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This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 93

By: Rich Cromwell
10 min read

Belle came in, yawning, and sat down at the table. She was curious what the evening held in store.

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Rich Cromwell
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Beast stood in the kitchen, towering over the countertop and a large bowl of brownie batter. With his spatula, Guillaume, he scraped the sides of the bowl, catching and stirring in every last bit of magic he’d added to this batch.

Belle came in, yawning, and sat down at the table. She was curious what the evening held in store. Guillaume attempted to speak up, but Beast buried him in the batter. All that escaped was a muffled cry, and Belle was none the wiser.

The bell on the oven dinged and signaled the preheating phase was complete. Beast spooned the batter into a pan and smoothed it before sliding the pan into the oven. He wiped his hands on the towel dangling from the handle of the oven door, noticing it smelled a little funky.

He held the towel to his nose and inhaled. He knew he had no choice; it was time to clean the washing machine with some vinegar and bleach. Maybe baking soda. He couldn’t remember the precise measurements, but thankfully he had Google. That would come later. The present moment was for baking.

He and Belle sat at the table, discussing their day. For the most part they wrangled enchanted flatware and candelabras, although the armoires sometimes got a bit raucous. Then the bell, the same other one from a minute ago, dinged again. The brownies were done.

Beast set them to cool then sliced them, bringing one to Belle while it was still warm and gooey. They were delicious, and not just because of the magic. As she chewed her last bite, Belle stared off into space. Beast was about to suggest they retire to the den, but before he could, their idiot Chihuahua Simone ran through the room and out the doggy door.

Belle hopped onto Beast’s back and yelled, “Regulators, regulate!” And off they went into the evening.


As they tore through the yard, Belle pulled on Beast’s back hair and proclaimed.


They were on a mission, mostly to find Simone, but maybe some other excitement, too. The evening demanded vigilance.


Speaking of “Young Guns,” let’s get this guy involved. I think he’s pretty available and affordable these days.


Unless his demands are too ridiculous, then forget it.


Beast, ever the optimist, gritted his teeth and muttered:


Alexa dove from the path of an oncoming bus only to see Beast and Belle galloping toward her. Having just cheated death, she made a pledge to herself.


Belle spotted a cop and thought about enlisting his help, but then her better judgment took over.


It was just as well, the officer was lost in thought. He hadn’t even noticed Alexa diving from in front of the bus or Beast galloping along. Trotting? Gallivanting? Whatever it is that cursed princes (kings?) do when giving chase.


The Chihuahua ran through a parking lot and into a neighborhood. It was there she crossed paths with Annie, who had a proclamation to make.


So did her neighbor Zach, one who was always about not just keeping up with the Joneses, or Hatfields in this case, but surpassing them. No, his last name was not McCoy.


Beast called out to Simone.


Simone yelled back. (For purposes of our tale, she’s also now enchanted, because why not.)


Then she realized she was about to cross into another yard. Gandalf was there, saying, “You shall not pass,” but Simone had a wild card up her sleeve. Figuratively.


Not that it really mattered. Gandalf was actually rather distracted.


Regardless, Simone had a thought.


Beast also had a thought. It was really the time or place, though.


Fortunately, on this night, she’d have ample help in the startling, mainly in the form of a high-speed foot chase between a Chihuahua and a Beast and a Belle.


Then, an obstacle! Or a pitfall. Yeah, probably the latter.


Then Belle had an idea.


Some would say it had too many flaws. Others, not enough.


But there was no choice but for Belle to live her truth.


Meanwhile, as she ran, Simone observed the stuff of legend.


While she paused to watch a miracle in traffic flow, Beast and Belle found themselves confronted by another denizen of the cul de sac. She had ideas.


Many ideas.


Belle and Beast were gaining on Simone. As they closed the gap, the trio ran past a local watering hole where one of the regulars was pontificating.


The topic was Olympic sports. There were many opinions.


Another denizen shook her head, wondering why people were concerned with such trivial matters when there were serious issues at hand.


Beast yelled at the dog, trying to get her to slow her roll. He wondered if maybe he should slow his own roll.


Belle contemplated just letting the dog go off and seek her own adventures.


In the distance, there was a light. They all ran toward it. It was a decision they would regret.


That one dude who takes neighborhood watch really seriously decided the scene required him to change his costume.


But then he got distracted by the sweet muscle car sitting in Taffy’s driveway. They decided to take it for a spin.


The spin quickly turned into a hot pursuit, or it would’ve if the perp was putting any effort into escaping. It didn’t help that she tripped over a dog.


With Simone on the ground, Belle and Beast caught up to the dog. Belle chastised Beast for being slow.


It was then that Simone looked up at him and made a promise.


Though it wasn’t a promise without a little bit of wistfulness.


Bob and Taffy dove out of the Camaro, Bob smacking a flashlight trying to get it to come on. Taffy reached into the glove compartment and threw him a pair of AA batteries. He loaded them into the cylinder and turned the torch on.

At his feet, having crossed over the edge of another enchanted zone, lay Simone. No longer a Chihuahua, she was now a She-Beast. Beast looked her over, tossed Belle off his back, and gave chase. Everyone else went home.

Beast and Simone circled the globe seven times before Beast gave up and went home. It had been a long evening and he was ready for another brownie, but he was greeted with a surprise when he arrived back at the palace. In his kitchen was a chair and whoever was in it had her back to Beast.

Slowly the chair turned and revealed Simone, slightly perturbed that Beast had given up, though she was coy about it. She twirled her pigtails and asked a question. Guillaume tried to answer, but Beast threw him in the dishwasher before he could get a word out.

Richard Cromwell is a writer and senior contributor at The Federalist. He lives in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, three daughters, and two crazy dogs. Co-host of the podcast Coffee & Cochon, you can find him on Facebook and Twitter, though you should probably avoid using social media.

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