Charlie pushed through the door and stumbled into his apartment, his clothes disheveled and what remained of his eyebrows burnt and smoking. “YOU!” he screamed as he found Matt sitting in his favorite lounger sipping his best brandy. Matt first held up one finger, quieting the smaller man and then held up a large glass filled to the brim with the same brandy.
“One hundred horrible dates,” Matt said as Charlie accepted the glass and drained it. “Your curse is broken.”
“You also got cursed,” Charlie complained. “What did you have to do?”
“Find you 100 horrible women to date.”