Yellowish green slime covered Sophocles' white, fluffy body. He shook his wings and used his tiny hands to rub off some of mucus. Yellowish green splashes fell on the red tile floor. "The next time you run late for work, don't think about using a spell. Just don't. Did you hear me, Morgana?" Sophocles gestured wildly. "No more travel spells."

"How could I have known we'd end up there? Besides," Morgana said as she placed her hands on her hips. "It wasn't me who pointed out the exact location of that creature's stomach when the spell was calibrating our destination. You could have just shut your trap, Sophocles, instead of ruining a decent spell and blaming it on me."

Sophocles glared at Morgana."If you hadn't done that initial spell, then none of it would have happened."
He rubbed the slime out off his ears. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a long hot shower to wash away the trauma you've given me."

Sophocles opened his mouth and emitted a high pitched sound. When the sound bounced back, he flew up and headed to the bathroom.

Morgana crossed her arms and hmpfed. She tried to blow a tarnished, pastel lock out of her face, but ended up inhaling the acid stench of the mucus instead. Her face turned a yellowish green, a few shades paler than the stomach lining she was covered in.

*

A few showers and a long soak in tomato paste later, the acid stench was finally replaced by a delicate, sweet, candy-like scent.

Sophocles sighed relieved as he lay, all soft and fluffy, snoozing in the afternoon sun on his pillow surrounded by a variety of crystals.

The crystals emitted a rainbow of colours on the altar and the ground surrounding it.

Morgana had cleaned up the mucus, thrown everything that smelled out off her window and taken an extra shower.

She walked into the room, wearing her favourite pastel pj's. Her white, fluffy slippers matched the white, fluffy towel in which she had skillfully wrapped her hair.
She sat on her bed and applied some bubblegum scented moisturizer.

Sophocles broke the silence. "Did you call into work?"

Morgana looked up.

"You said you used the spell because you were running late for work. Did you call in to let them know you won't be showing up today?"

"I totally forgot. What should I say?"

"Tell them the truth."

"Yeah, great idea. Sorry boss, I can't come in today. I got stuck in a Seitana-like creature and have been scrubbing off its mucus ever since.
I can't do that!"

"Not like that! Tell them you ran into something stinky and have trouble getting the smell out."

Morgana contemplated Sophocles' words. "That might work. I'll say it was a skunk."

"Do that."

Morgana grabbed her phone and called the supermarket.
She apologized profusely for not having shown up yet and told the whole story of her having had a stand-off with a skunk that morning and the skunk having won.
"I've been scrubbing and scrubbing ever since, but I still smell horribly," Morgana lied. "And I thought to myself I can't help customers like this. What would they say? That's why I'm calling to let you know I'm doing my best, but I doubt I'll be able to show up today...
You want prove?"
Morgana's eyes shifted towards the window. She saw the pile of clothes she had worn that morning and all the cloth she had used to clean up the mucus.
"Do you want me to send you my shirt or the more diluted cloth I used to wipe off my skin?
My shirt? Got it." A malicious smile played on her lips. "I'll mail it immediately."

Morgana grabbed a box, labeled it with the supermarket's address, added a note and bagged her mucus covered shirt. "That will do the trick."

When she taped it shut, Morgana received a text.

Your package has been delivered at 666 Dahlia Street, 6500 Bryork.

She checked the attached shipping mail. "My tarot deck has arrived!"

With the cardboard box full of proof of her olfactorious disaster, Morgana swung her front door wide open.

She searched high and low, but her tarot deck was nowhere to be found. Morgana checked the text. "It said it was delivered today... Maybe it's still at the post office?"

She put on a coat and with the cardboard box of hell under her arm, she made her way to the local post office. Her boss had insisted on her mailing the proof after all...