Meanwhile, in another, darker part of Fairyland, Hilda and Boris came home from a night on the town. Crazytown.

"Well, Boris? Wasn't that the best night out we ever had?"

"Whyja give that hypnotist guy - Mr. Mental - all that money just t' put me in his show? I coulda used that money fer beer."

"Ya bought yerself plenty of beer. Do ya remember what he toldja after the show?"

"Big waste o' money; I don't 'member nothin'."

Hilda was delighted, everything was going according to plan. She hurried to the bedroom, lighted candles and smooshed herself into a nightgown that hadn't seen use since – well, she couldn't remember when. Tonight there were gonna be fireworks for sure. Finally. She gave Boris her best come-hither look as he staggered in.

Boris hung his pants and jacket on the floor, as usual, and said, "Whatcha wearin' that thingy fer? Ya cain't stuff 50-pounds o' mud in a 40-pound sack!" Boris guffawed and burped at the same time. Quite a trick.

"Well, I'm on a diet," Hilda whined. "I'm exercising and losing weight."

"All the exercise you get, is shovelin' food into yer face. Ya think I don't know ya eat everything in the kitchen after I go t' sleep?"

Boris crawled into the bed and fell fast asleep.

Defeated, Hilda blew out the candles and crawled in after him.

Hilda woke alone, but heard noises in the kitchen. She wondered if Boris had snuck downstairs for a midnight snack. He was the one who sneaked food – not her! She determined to catch him in the act.

Hilda whisked into the kitchen, then stopped short at the gory sight before her. Boris had been snacking after all, but not on food from the cabinets.

"Dang-it-all!" Hilda spat. "Not only did I waste all that money on the darned hypnotist, but now I have to get Mrs. McGillicutty a new cat!."