Do you ever have one of those days you just wish that you didn't wake up? Heh, wish, get it?" Jareth slurred, snickering at his own joke and waving a hand drunkenly once he looked over blearily at the bartender and realized the man hadn't even heard a word he said, busy cleaning up the bar for last call.

"Nevermind. Anyways, I was saying….there's this girl I like and...well, I messed up. Like, MESSED UP, man. Toooootally blew it." Jareth looked down at the contents of his glass and almost started sobbing, biting back the action with another swallow of the gin he was drinking.

Finally, the bartender glanced his way, giving him a "Why the fuck won't this dude leave?" look that everyone in retail gets when that one last customer just won't shut the hell up already and get the hell out so they can go home.

"Hey, man, it's five 'til closing time and I think you should finish…"

"YOU SEE..." Jareth started again, perhaps yelling a little too loud and nearly falling out of his stool as he stared down the bartender, trying to look regal but ending up looking more like a person one stage away from ending up as either a serial killer or an owner of a moderately successful strip club, having the bartender back up and reach for his phone.

"Yo, I'm going to call the cops…" The man began.

"YOU SEE, IT ALL STARTED OUT SO NICELY, AND THEN...CROTCH HAMSTERS." Jareth said overly loud, making the security guard stare from his post across the empty bar.

He gave the bartender a questioning look and twirled his fingers around his temple and the bartender simply shrugged, then blinked, looking back at Jareth. "Say what?"

"CROTCH. FUCKING. HAMSTERS. Or...goblins, really." Jareth hung his head sadly and when the man moved to really dial 9-1-1, he threw down a crystal and the phone went dead.

"The day started out normally enough…" He began to tell his tale of what had happened earlier that morning, oblivious to the panic that etched into the two men's faces.

"I woke in my luxurious bed. Really, it's got these silk sheets and down pillows..." he waved a hand ambiguously through the air, drunkenly swaying in his seat with the effort.

"I'm a king, it's only right that I have the best bed. I commissioned four dwarves for the headboard alone. Where was I?"

He turned a bleary eye to the bouncer, who for all his training, looked entirely as confused as the bartender. "Crotch Hamsters." He replied, his panic subsiding.

This was just another drunken storyteller, he told himself

A strange, magical, ambiguously attractive, drunken storyteller. Yeah, I'll go with that.

Jareth hiccuped, trying to focus on what the bouncer had said. "Right! Crutch humpsters. I woke in my luxurious bed, with a plan in mind. I was going to go after her, WOO HER. How could she resist this?"

His arms swung wildly again, gesturing to his whole body. He threw back the rest of his gin before continuing. "I dressed, then headed towards the gardens. That's where I was going to begin my preparations..." He began at the beginning, where are good stories should start.

Earlier that Day...

"HOGHEAD!" Thundered Jareth, looking around the flowers near the fountain entrance to the castle gardens, not spotting the small little pest of a man that he'd forced into servitude at the castle, to keep an eye on him.

Nothing replied. Jareth's temper flared as he stood there, looking about sharply.

Rolling his eyes, he stepped forward, scanning the garden with a growing frown.

Idly, he tried adjusting himself - what the hell kind of pants were these?

The tailor swore it was a new concept all the nobles were raging over, inspired by something they called a 'Facebook video' - which immediately made him decide to investigate it later.

Books with faces were usually powerful spell tomes and how did that manage to get up there?

An odd throat clearing came from his side and Jareth turned, still trying to get used to the pants.

"Do that on your own time!" Hoggle hastily pleaded, trying to avert his eyes.

"Higgle..."

"Hoggle!"

"Whatever," the King rolled his eyes. "I have a task for you."

"This can't be good..." Hoggle muttered.

"You're still...friends...with Sarah, yes?" He asked impatiently, annoyed at the dwarf's attitude. Where was the respect? The subservience?

"Why you asking?" Hoggle replied, narrowing his eyes as he tried to stare up at Jareth's face, but considering what was at eye level, found it difficult to do so with a straight face. "And what's with the duds? You fairy boys into some new fashion stuff? Looks a little funny..."

He really didn't understand Jareth's sense of style, but then again he was old as dirt so he figured it had to be a young person thing.

"When I want to talk about my personal choices, it won't be you I choose to discuss it with. Now do you still visit the Champion or not? Or do you care for a dip in the bog? Your attitude is most grating, Hogwash..."

Hoggle grit his teeth and tried to look contrite and failed. Since he'd moved to the Goblin Castle, they'd grown in their bitter banter and he'd learned that Jareth was mostly bark and no bite.

"Sorry, Sire. Yes, I do. Why? You're not going to talk to her...in that?"

Hoggle gestured at his pants, his eyebrows raising.

"FORGET THE DAMN PANTS!" Jareth shouted, his fingers twitching to dump the dwarf head first into the bog. "Summon her!"

Hoggle took a few steps back, blinking in surprise at Jareth's snappy tone. "Fine, gods. I ain't deaf, you know..."

Muttering under his breath, he turned and moved over to a fountain, peering down into the cool water's reflective surface. Watching as Jareth studied him, he cleared his throat and called out. "Sarah? You there?"

The fountain's surface rippled and there she was - former Champion, dressed in a leotard and short shorts. She looked out of breath. Hoggle frowned as Jareth tried and failed to not stare, staying out of her view.

"Don't tell me you're doin' that Zumba stuff again, Sarah..."

"What? It's good exercise."

Hoggle grunted and rolled his eyes. "You look as ridiculous as..." he trailed off, catching Jareth's death glare. "...nevermind. What're you doing tonight?"

Sarah laughed and shrugged, wiping a towel over her face. "Nothing. Eating pizza, drinking wine, watching a movie. Why, you and the boys wanna come by?"

"Uh..." Hoggle looked over at Jareth and he motioned rapidly, nodding his head.

"Um, yeah. You mind..." Hoggle frowned, trying to make out what hand signs Jareth was giving him and then rolled his eyes, thinking fast. "Listen, I got a friend who wants to come. He's fairly decent, if a bit of a weirdo. You mind if he tags along?"

If looks could kill, Jareth's would eviscerate him. He snorted, knowing the King couldn't interrupt their chat without making his presence known.

"Sure, that's fine. The house is kind of a mess, does he care about that?"

Jareth nodded yes, making Hoggle instantly smile. "No..."

Jareth glared. Hoggle gave him a 'What? You wanna come or not?' look. Finally, Jareth rolled his eyes and gestured for Hoggle to continue.

"What time is good for you?"

Sarah consulted her phone. "How's eight?"

"Sure, see you then." Sarah's reflection dissolved and Hoggle glared at Jareth.

Jareth practically preened until he noticed Hoggle's stare. "What?"

Hoggle rolled his eyes, deciding not to bother with the fatherly 'treat the girl you like with respect' speech.

He'd need no help in screwing up the night with Sarah and he was relieved, as he never liked Jareth and Sarah together. "Nothin. What else you want or can I get back to work now?"

"No, no, that will do Hogbrain. I have other preparations to attend to."

With one last firm tug of his pants, Jareth strolled from the gardens. Hoggle watched as he left, making sure he was out of earshot before making a move. As the last footsteps faded away, he swiftly turned back to the fountain.

"Didymus? Didymus? Can you hear me over there?"

After a few moments, Didymus's face swam into view, framed by the bulrushes of his beloved Bog. Gentle plops and other... interesting sounds... faded in and out of Hoggle's hearing.

"Sir Hoggle, my brother! What troublest thou? Didst His Royal Highness forget thy name again? Art thou in need of some small distraction? Perhaps a game of Scrabble wouldst suffice?"

"Tha's not it! Stop bloody suggestin' yer wordy game. You knows I'm not that good at spellin'. No, We're ta go visit Sarah, Eight o' clock. And His Ratness is joinin' our group."

Didymus nose wrinkled, his jaw going slack. "Well... I..." He seemed to stumble in his words, which was something that rarely happened. Cocking his head to the side, he furrowed his brow. "What dost thou suggest, brother Hoggle?"

Hoggle muttered a curse under his breath, removing his cap and ruffling his hair. "S'not much we can do. Doubt he'll need help ruinin' himself anyway. Shoulda seen the pants he was wearin'," and at the memory, Hoggle suddered, "they were too tight and kept... wigglin'. Gave me the willies. Well, tell Ludo the plans fer tonight. I'll meet ya at the gate ta the city."

Didymus nodded swiftly and faded from view. Hoggle wrung his cap a bit, biting his lower lip. A few moments passed before he grunted and slammed his cap back onto his head.

"Well, nothin' fer it now. Best get ta work 'till it's time. I'll figure it out better while my hands are busy." With that, he turned back to gather his shears and prune the roses.

Jareth made his way back to the castle to continue with his other preparations.

He was going to woo her like she had never been wooed before!

He could already see it now: the moment he walked in wearing these new pants, she would fall all over him, and consent to whatever he suggested.

Including getting rid of the grumbling dwarf.

But what would they talk about?

"What is this Zumba that Sarah and Hogwash mentioned? Perhaps I should research this a bit more."

And so he went to his private chambers to investigate.

After thirty minutes of attempting Zumba, Jareth was pretty sure he was dying.

Literally crawling across the floor as his thighs trembled more than a loose sheet left hanging in a swift breeze, he grasped for the pitcher of water and half-swallowed, half-poured it down his face.

Rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, he blinked, realizing Sarah was clearly training to be one of those Amazons he encountered a few millennia ago.

No WONDER she'd beaten his Labyrinth so easily, if THIS was the type of training she'd been undergoing! He considered, and a smile spread across his face as an idea occurred.

He'd been thinking lately that his Goblin Army could use some military discipline. They were slovenly, lazy ... a royal disgrace to the goblin cause, if he was willing to be honest (which wasn't so often). But a few days (months) of hardnosed, boot camp Zumba training ought to whip the whole lot of them right into shape, surely!

Still, with his current plan to woo his Sarah (which he FULLY intended to get back to after a long soak in a tub of ice water), how would he manage to implement such a venture? He'd need someone who could give orders. Someone who wasn't afraid to get down and dirty. Someone with courage and spunk. And who did as he was told without asking a lot of ridiculous questions.

Jareth managed to lift his head from the floor long enough to draw in a deep lungful of air, let it loose in a bellow that reached the far corners of the Labyrinth. "DIDYMUS! FRONT AND CENTER, IF YOU PLEASE!"

As swift as a greased feline in a tuna factory, Didymus stood before Jareth. He swept off his high-feathered hat and bowed low.

"My Liege! What needest thou on such a fine morn? Thou look most weary! What activity has thou so prostrate? Thou shouldst engage in a more calming game. Scrabble, perhaps?" He got no immediate response from his King, who was staring at the ceiling bleary eyed, so spoke again.

"You bellowed, Sire? It is I- Sir Did...uh, are you in good health? Can I be of service?"

Jareth rolled over and dragged himself up using a bedpost. " I'm fine- just checking under the bed for chickens,"he lied.

Sir Didymus' eyes grew large- " Are you positive, your Royalness? There seems to be something, uh, twitching.. " , pointing at a particularly rumbling area in the King's groin.

At this point is when Sir Did launches himself, growling with bared teeth and swinging his swagger stick, repeatedly slamming his wiggling jewels and screaming "I'll save you!"

"BLOODY HELL YOU CRAZED TERRIER!" Jareth screamed as he felt his royal manhood become well-tenderized under Sir Didymus's less-than-loving beating. Jareth's groin was decidedly still.

Didymus froze, mid-swing, eyes wide and tail bushy. "I apologize, Sire. 'Tis only, I thought I saw... well I was most assuredly afraid for your personage!"

"My pants are of no-one's concern! Now, to the topic at hand." At this, Jareth peeled himself back off of the floor, groaning with the effort. "It has come to my attention that the Champion has been training far better than our own army has. It is a disgrace! I have learned that she has become a Master of the Zumba technique, and it will be your job," he pointed at Didymus for emphasis, "to learn this technique and train our soldiers in it as well. You begin tomorrow!"

Didymus smiled, his toothy grin shining with pride. "I am most honored, Sire! I shall conquer this slovenly army! They shall be the most feared Zumba Knights in all of the Underground!" He bowed low once more and turned to leave.

Jareth took a deep breath, gently adjusted himself, and decided on a nap. He was going to need it.

Elsewhere*

The tailor stared, trembling, gagged and bound to a bed as a tiny green witch stood over him, pointing a very fearsome match (WAND, by her standards) at his face. "Did you do as I instructed, Shaun? Does he wear the pants?"

"Yes, I convinced him they were next season and he took them, just like you said! Please don't, you promised!"

The small witch cackled evilly and rubbed her hands together. "Good, good. My plans will come to fruition soon. That man will learn the wrath of Ebenezera of Little Hill Kingdom soon enough! When my army of little goblin assassins are properly disturbed...my revenge will be complete!"

The witch began to cackle and rolled off the tailor, curling a fake mustache in the process.

"Isn't this a little extreme for His Highness simply not liking your fashion like?" The tailor asked, cowering when the little witch screamed in outrage.

"How DARE you! Orange and fuchsia would have been all the rage if it weren't for that man and his damn...pants!"

Pointing a finger at the tailor, she snapped her fingers and he was instantly untied. The man scrambled towards the door.

"And Shaun? If you tell him about the pants...I'll explain it was YOUR idea."

Truly frightened, Shaun ran out the door.

Jareth woke from his nap feeling oddly disoriented and still sore from the assault on his manhood. His new pants seemed to have withstood the barrage and he noted there was no strange vibrations in the bread basket, yet still- he needed to put out the fire that raged below.

"Fizzgig- I need you", he called out.

The goblin appeared at his bedside in a glittery POOF. "Yes, yer Kingness?"

"I need a bag of frozen peas", Jareth requested. "Now!"

The goblin zapped out and back in. "This is all's I could scrounge", he frowned, holding up a bag of frozen peach slices.

The Goblin King grabbed it and slapped onto his bratwurst. "Aaaaaaaahhh!"

Elsewhere in Jareth's pants*

"Aaaaaaaaahhh!" The beaten army of crotch assassins let out a collective sigh.

After a considerable soak in Epsom salts and a firm applied pressure of blessedly cold peaches to his Crown Jewels, Jareth rose and dressed once more, growing more steadily excited at the idea of seeing Sarah this evening.

Looking over into his floor length mirror, he practiced a few faces to make when Shaun came barreling into his private chambers unannounced, mid duck face.

"Um, Your Highness?" Shaun's voice was unusually high pitched as he turned, his expression melting into a frown.

"What is it, Sanders?" Jareth glared, narrowing his eyes.

"N-Nothing...did...you like the pants?" Shaun's eyes lowered and he stared, wide-eyed in panic, paling visibly. Jareth noticed and smirked, sashaying across the floor and looking over said pants in the mirror, taking Shaun's look of horror as admiration.

"Yes, indeed I do. These are very...distracting. You think a woman would like them? Would I successfully navigate the battlefield of her timid rejections and have her in my arms by night's end in this, you think?" He turned and looked at Shaun, who's expression had shifted to resembling a drowning fish.

"Um, well, uh...sure?" He really didn't know, as he hadn't dated a woman in centuries. Besides, they were definitely something...else. Not sure if attractive is the proper adjective he would have used but he didn't dare tell Jareth that for fear of the witch.

"Excellent. Now, I need something..noticeable to go with them. What do you have in mind?"

This was a subject Shaun was much more comfortable with, giving his King the first real smile of the day.

"Let me see what I can do..."

Jareth strolled into his throne room a few hours later, ready to tackle the day now that he'd finally recovered from his experimentation with the legendary Zumba.

He was in good spirits and it showed: his hair poofed extra high, his boots extra shiny and his tunic extra loose, exuding sexual prowess and Goblin Kingery with his plunging frilly neckline and ornamental riding crop (with some extra glitter because why not?).

Plopping down into his seat atop the dais, he motioned for the goblins to wander inside and begin their antics, not even bothered by their smell as his mind was elsewhere, still plotting out his OBVIOUS upcoming victory in wooing the Champion with his quite ample charms.

From what Shaun said, these pants would be the item to seal the deal. Looking down, he had to admit they *were* fetching. Everyone had commented on them all day - that was good, right?

As if on queue, they came in, singing and dancing and carrying on until they all stopped and stared wide-eyed at Jareth's new pants. "What?"

"It's moving!" Shouted one goblin.

"We'z must savs kingy!" Declared another.

The mob rushed to save their King, grabbing any weapons they could find.

In all his reign, had the goblins moved so fast. They descended on him like a smelly, absurd mob. Some were wielding pans, some staves, and some even swung chickens by the legs, their wings flapping and eyes bulging.

Just as the first few goblins arrived at his feet, Jareth regained his senses. "QUIET! BE STILL YOU BUFFOONS!"

However, though he had shouted loud enough to shake grit from the rafters, he was one second too late. A particularly bloodthirsty chicken had already left the hands of the goblin who launched her. His aim was true, and the black feathered chicken landed on Jareth's nethers claws-first.

A scream as had never been heard before reverberated throughout the kingdom. All those who heard it would one day recount the sound around campfires, at bedtimes, and at wedding ceremonies.

They would tell the tale of how the wail of a thousand banshees could never compare to the wounded yelp of the King Whose Bulge Had Been Mauled By a Fowl.

Once more, Jareth was barricaded in his personal quarters, yet another pack icing his increasingly damaged male appendage.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into everyone?!" He grumbled, wincing as he shifted the bag of ice.

Hoggle chose that moment to walk in, blinking at the sight of Jareth gingerly dabbing a bag of ice on his manly bits. "Damn, again? I heard about it at lunch but thought it was just rumors..."

He trailed off when Jareth once more glared over at him, doing his best to look contrite and as before, failing miserably. He was practically giddy - did this mean he'd be staying home for the evening?

"Well, seeing how your Crown Jewels are...er...under maintenance repairs...guess that means I'll have to cancel plans with Sarah..." He turned swiftly, intending to bolt, when he heard Jareth's dangerous tone behind him.

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING, HEDGEWART! I am determined to see Sarah this evening and if you let any of these morning mishaps be known to her, perhaps this time I really will send you swimming in the bog!"

Something about his tone made Hoggle hesitate, staring at Jareth. Still, he could see the man was in pain. Inwardly smirking, he knew even if Jareth did come tonight, his "wooing" would have limits with his dick most likely feeling like it had been shoved through a meat grinder. That allowed him to breathe slightly in relief.

"Fine, whatever you say. How about you stay in here and we'll come get you? I think Didymus can control the goblins for a few hours. Those...pants...seem to put people on edge. You sure you won't consider changing?"

Hoggle frowned and tipped his head to the side, giving Jareth a distasteful once-over, doing his best to avoid gazing too long at said pants.

"No, absolutely not. I have a feeling they'll have the desired effect I want. But perhaps you're correct and I shall rest til we leave. Go, make sure Didymus is up to speed..."

Hoggle nodded, moving to leave, when he heard the King hastily mutter for more ice. Biting back laughter, he left to do his King's bidding.

Sarah was waiting in her apartment for her friends to arrive. She was curious about the newcomer.

In all these years the boys had never brought or even mentioned anyone else to her.

Must be a good friend of theirs to bring him Above. She didn't want to embarrass them. In a sudden bout of self consciousness she spent 7:50-8:00 frantically cleaning the worst of the mess.

She had just finished shoving all the dirty pots and pans into the oven when she heard Hoggle's voice from the bedroom mirror.

"Sarah? Are ye here?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm here!" She vaulted over the couch to go and meet them.

Stopping dead in her tracks as she beheld Hoggle, Sir Didymus clutching lovingly to a Scabble board, Ludo trying to stand comfortably, and Jareth the Goblin King stepping through her mirror and awkwardly climbing off her desk.

Jareth's eyes raised to look upon Sarah.

Finally. It had been so long. She was so lovely now. Hair tossed up in a bun with a devil-may-care messiness that he found delicious. And more scandalously dressed than even he was in a night white top and shorts. He noted with satisfaction how she froze upon seeing him. Her eyes widening hugely at the sight of his brand new pants.

He puffed his chest out in his usual haughty air and waited for her to send the others away. An alarming choking sound crocked out of her throat and she tried to cover it up with her hand.

But it was no good. Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth and the object of his obsessions. She collapsed onto the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter.

Jareth's confidence briefly waivered as Sarah stumbled to the ground, wiping tears from her eyes.

Sir Didymus and Ludo looked at one another then bolted for the living room, determined to get away from the inevitable awkwardness that would follow once she recovered. Hoggle just simply looked pleased as hell, giving Jareth a shit-eating grin.

Jareth frowned but pulled himself up to full height once more. "Good evening, precious..." he drawled in his sexiest 'come-hither' voice.

That seemed to get her attention as she immediately stopped laughing, turning a faint shade of pink as she stared at him.

Still, her eyes lowered and she started to giggle again only for the sound to peter off as she frowned, tipping her head to the side. "Wait, is it...wiggling?"

Hoggle finally let out a cry of victory. "Thank gods it ain't just me!"

"What're you talking about?" Jareth frowned, looking between the two, highly offended.

"I promise you, precious, if doesn't -wiggle- at all. Well, perhaps it does -something- when properly stimulated but not that. Why, volunteering for the job?"

He smirked, sure that she'd come to her senses at that smooth offer.

Sarah wasn't listening, a look of horror overcoming her face. Hoggle also seemed to back up a few steps.

"What...?" He started to ask, when suddenly, tiny voices of doom spoke...from his pants.

"We found you, so we have to kill you..."

Before Jareth could react, he doubled over in pain as tiny teeth sunk into the senstive flesh of his thighs and the lower part of his stomach.

"What is it?" Sarah asked as she jumped to her feet.

"Whateva it is, its in his pants." Hoggle shook his head. "Told him those pants were bad."

Jareth was now writhing on the floor in pain. "We have to help him. What ever is attacking him is in those pants. We have to get them off of him."

As Sarah reached for his pants, Hoggle stopped her. "Sarah are you sure about this?" He asked as he grabbed her hand.

"Whatever it is could be dangerous to you. Look what its doing to 'im." They both looked at Jareth. "Besides, I don't think the rat wears underwear."

Sarah looked at Hoggle, determination shining in her jade eyes. "We have to get in his pants." She dropped to the floor, frantically trying to grab at Jareth's pants while he rolled and screamed, clutching his tenders.

Hoggle's jaw dropped. He stood transfixed as the scene played out before him. He didn't know whether he should run, help, or record the entire thing for posterity.

His gaze flicked from Sarah, her fingers clawing at His Majesty's rump, and Jareth, who was now doing a fine impression of a fish flopping on the deck of a trawler.

She was his friend and, well, Jareth was his liege, regardless of how ratlike he behaved. Suddenly, he knew the answer to his dilemma.

"Flip 'em over! You grab one leg an' I'll grab the oth'r. On the count o' three, YANK!"

With great difficulty, they managed to flip Jareth and each grasped one hem of the now screeching pants. Jareth wailed mournfully.

"Ready?" Hoggle yelled.

"Let's do this!" Sarah steeled herself, ready for anything.

"One. Two. THREE!"

A horrible combination of tearing cloth, elaborate curses, screeches, and thumps filled the air. With the effort of their pulling, Sarah and Hoggle had ripped the pants straight off Jareth.

Three pairs of eyes widened in horror as they saw the creatures falling from a hidden pouch sewn into the crotch of the pants.

Just as Hoggle was about to speak, the creatures launched themselves at his face.

Sarah didn't dare look over at Jareth who had curled up against her, his poor abused nether regions nestled against her posterior, the shredded remnants of his pants still in her grip.

She stared in horror at the small army of...was that goblins? Hamsters? Crotch demons?...poured out by the hundreds and took aim at Hoggle.

A scream that would rival that of Hollywood horror films burst from Hoggle's lips as they swarmed him, sending him sprawling.

Sarah was torn - leave Jareth pantless and most likely nude for all to see or rescue her friend from sudden death at the hands of tiny crotch hamsters?

Decisions, decisions...

Luckily, she didn't have to make that choice as Sir Didymus and Ludo chose that moment to return, wondering what all the ruckus was about.

As Didymus and Ludo rushed to aid Hoggle, Sarah took pity on their monarch and grabbed a blanket from her couch and covered him. She then hurried to help the others save Hoggle.

The crotch hamsters covered his entire body and were nipping and biting like angry fleas. "What are they and where did they come from?" Sarah asked as she tried to swat them off with a fly swatter.

"They appear to be some sort of rodent, my lady." Didymus stated as he fought them off of Hoggle's leg.

"Come on, let's get him to the other room. Hopefully these things hate water or one of the rodent repellents I have." They helped her drag Hoggle to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and turned on the water, filling the tub. "Put him in the water."

She had turned it to freezing, hoping to at least shock them into releasing Hoggle. He cried out from the cold but it was working, they let go long enough for one of them to pull them away from their friend.

Sarah grabbed a large trash bag and they started throwing them in it. As they squirmed in the bag, Sarah closed it and smacked it against the floor or wall a few times, knocking a lot of them out and stunning the others. "That'll teach you to mess with my friend."

After fighting them for a good 20 minutes, they managed to gather all of them into the bag, which was now tripled because they tried to chew their way out of it.

Sarah tied the bag shut and smacked it against things a few more times.

"What shall we do with them, my lady?"

Sarah stared at the bag, which still moved a little. She shrugged. "Drop it in the bog?"

Almost as soon as she had spoken the words, the group heard one weary word spoken from the other room.

"Bog."

The only sound to follow was the trickling of water running in the shower.

After about fifteen minutes, Jareth roused himself from the fetal position he had maintained on the floor. He clawed his way up the side of Sarah's sofa, and as he did so, he realized that something wasn't quite right.

"Sarah? Hogbot?" Jareth called, craning his neck to look in the direction of the bathroom.

Standing, he slowly approached the door. "Sir Didymus? Ludo?"

He turned the knob and the door swung open to reveal... Nothing. No one was there. Through his crotch-pain induced delirium, Jareth had forgotten to focus his banishment spell.

He had managed to send every living being in Sarah's apartment to the Bog, including her cat, Duke Fluffington.

"Shit. Oh shit! OH SHIT!" He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to puzzle out what to do next.

"I need a drink to think properly," He concluded, turning off the water in the shower and closing the bathroom door.

Jareth turned toward the door nearest to the bathroom, which happened to lead to Sarah's bedroom. "I need something to wear in absence of my crotch hamster pants," he muttered to himself, stumbling toward the nearest dresser.

He opened the first drawer, finding Sarah's intimates. Jareth's eyes widened as he gazed upon several lacy numbers. Holding up one particular silken, navy-blue thong, he whispered "We'll have to visit this little piece later."

Setting it back into the drawer, he closed it and opened the next, and the next, until he found bottoms of various kinds. Selecting one that he thought matched his personality and might also fit, albeit a little snugly, Jareth shimmied his way into the garment. He then found his way to the apartment entrance. Closing the door behind him, he left in search of the nearest pub.