A high-pitched cackle pierced the fog. Floating above the now-empty crate was a three-foot-tall, impish figure dressed in tattered green velvet, with a twisted gold buckle hat, glowing green eyes, and a beard that looked like it was woven from moss and mischief. The air shimmered with residual magic.
“Well well well,” the figure drawled in a syrupy, mocking brogue, his tiny hands glowing with emerald energy. “Look what the smugglers dragged in. A brawler in baby oil and a walking flannel commercial.”
Blue Boxer blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t blink too hard, golden boy,” the creature sneered. “Wouldn’t want to miss the show!”
He snapped his fingers.
A dazzling POOF of green magic exploded around the two heroes. Their uniforms were gone in an instant—tactical gear, gloves, flannel, utility belts, boots—everything evaporated in a sparkle of mischief dust.
And in their place, tight, snug shamrock-patterned briefs clung to their hips like a joke from a bad sitcom. Blue Boxer’s were a glossy satin with glittering clovers across the front; Lumberjack’s had a waistband that read LUCKY CHARM in curly gold lettering.
Blue Boxer looked down. “...I hate magic.”
Lumberjack looked down. Then at Blue Boxer. Then back at himself. “If you ever tell anyone about this—”
The Lecherous Leprechaun howled with laughter, tumbling end over end in the air like a manic gymnast. “Oh ho HO! Ain’t ye two a sight! Grit City’s finest in their unmentionables!”
Blue Boxer tried to lunge forward, but the Leprechaun zipped out of reach with a flick of his crooked cane.
“Aw, don’t get your briefs in a bunch!” the little gremlin chortled. “I’m just warmin’ up! I’ve got plenty more embarrassment where that came from!”
Lumberjack cracked his knuckles. “You want to see embarrassing? Try what happens next if I catch you.”
“Oooh, the big man’s gettin’ feisty!” The Leprechaun spun in midair, then cast another spell—this time, tiny four-leaf clovers burst into life around their feet, tangling them in magical vines that smelled suspiciously of mint and humiliation.
Blue Boxer struggled, muttering, “Remind me to add ‘tiny pants-stealing fairies’ to the list of things I hate about this city.”
Lumberjack grunted as he yanked a vine from his ankle. “You want the left or the right when we finally catch him?”
“Whichever side punches harder.”
The Leprechaun stuck out his tongue, wagging his fingers at them mockingly. “Catch me if ye can, boys! But careful—next spell might shrink your muscles!”
Blue Boxer’s eye twitched. “Oh, now it’s personal.”
With a synchronized yell, both heroes broke free of the clover vines, muscles flexing beneath the ridiculous briefs, and charged after the laughing menace—barefoot, underdressed, and absolutely out for revenge.