“A shot of bourbon and a shot of gin, shot in the dark and we start again.” Carl hummed his favorite tune as he crossed the railroad tracks into the dark forest. “A shot of whiskey and shot of rum and shot in the mouth and the evening’s done!”
A snapping of twigs brought Carl to a halt.
“Who s’there?” A voice answered. Carl chuckled at his echo, and began to relieve himself.
“WOOSTHERE!” The voice shouted. Carl jumped, and accidentally dropped his trousers.
“Carl.” He whispered. “Carl is here.”
He heard footsteps, and felt someone breathing on the back of his neck. When he turned around, he saw only blackness. Carl realized he should have listened to that old Gypsy woman:
“Never ye pee in the Witch’s Woods, or your fate is sealed for good!”
But it was too late. It was far too late for that.