Chapter Six

Wagons, mushrooms, and kisses, the basics of gob-foolery.

6: Churpo Hurpo…Redooka Hoog (Chapter Six…Raid Night)

Dulp waited in nervous anticipation for any kind of a carriage or wagon to come down this nasty little stretch of highway. The dirt path before them was just wide enough for a trader or merchant to squeeze a cart through with a decent-sized load of goodies, and it was those goodies that his little crack team of gobs was after.

They were all lying in wait around the heart of dunkle Wälder, a short spurt of woods that the humans were afraid of for some reason, but cutting through this dim little forest was the shortest route to the villages south of here. Goods came from Hafenstadt from the wests, traveled east through dunkle Wälder, and then turned south right at this bend. It was the perfect point for ambush.

The Chief had sent Dulp with a few others to pull off a wagon heist. Dulp suspected that the crusty old gob was still punishing him, as the old bastage had put Dulp in charge of this dangerous little mission.

Even though this was technically a raid night, they were raiding during the day. Oddly enough, the Chief wanted them to hit the road early, long before nightfall, which made Dulp question as to whether the Chief actually wanted him to come back alive. It was much easier to spot their gobbiness during the day, and Skippy was going to play the top part of their little duo. Skippy, being a White Skulls gob, was extra ugly, so this…wasn’t looking good.

Right now, Dulp was holding up Skippy, his hands around Skippy’s legs, the ugly little gob balanced upon his shoulders. They had a nice thick human cloak wrapped around them both in order to hide their gobbiness, though to be fair, Skippy was far uglier than Dulp could ever be, not that he would ever tell Skippy that.

He’d briefed Skippy on what to do anyway. Skippy was armed with the B.F.C., the Big Fra’kicken Crossbow, though it only had one shot. Loading that beast was easy, but actually arming it was a real pain in the bum. It took two gobs working in tandem to get the bolt kicked back in order for this thing to shoot, though they rarely ever shot it. They didn’t have that many bolts.


Skippy’s Field Notes #28:

The B.F.C. the gobs of Pingo use in their field raids is actually an Ursula die Jägerin Mark II Limited Edition with a massive two-hundred-pound draw weight. Where they got it, I have no idea, but I suspect it was probably nicked from some unfortunate soul at some point, more than likely stolen during transit to someone of actual wealth. In fact, I’ve only ever seen drawings of these in Crossbows and Ammo booklets.

According to Dulp’s plan, we have no intention of firing this beast of a weapon. No, Dulp and I have been designated as the “undies” because we are underneath the cloak. Our job is to hold up the wagon or cart and stall for time. While we stall, the rest of the team, Burto, Murt, Gimmie, Grendo, Wappa, and Jeans, will all steal items off of the wagon or cart in question. Their team has been designated the “nickers” because they’ll be stealing.

The role I am to play is quite simple: I just stand there with a menacing look on my face while I aim the B.F.C. in the general direction of the wagon driver. In fact, I’m wearing a large fake moustache made of squirrel fur even as I write this entry. This is to further enhance the terrifying scowl I have practiced in the reflection of the small hand mirror I brought with me, and I have practiced and perfected this scowl over the long and grueling course of twenty minutes, thereby making me a master in the art of intimidation.

No one will actually get shot, of course, and nothing will actually be stolen, though the gobs don’t know that. No, everything is going according to plan. The wagon or cart will slow to a halt due to the brush that I and my fellow gob conspirators have laid across the road, and then I will take it from there.

Oh, isn’t this fun!

S.P.W.


The brush was laid out across the road, and Jeans had already signaled that a wagon was on the way. This wasn’t a carriage, no, but a wagon, an honest to goodness merchant vehicle for transporting goods.

Of course, Dulp didn’t care what it was carrying. He only needed to bring back some stuff in order to satisfy the Chief. As long as that stuff was reasonably useful, he was in the clear.

Dulp peered through an opening in his cloak and viewed the wagon coming forward down the road, that wagon pulled by four strong horses. The merchant vehicle bounced and clattered forward on wooden wheels, and even from here, even from underneath the heavy human cloak he was wearing, Dulp could tell that the wagon was loaded full with human goodies. He could also hear the clucking of chickens, always a sign of the greatest fortune.

This was going to be good. They, at the very least, needed to score one of those succulent fowl, and they were going to. The other gobs would make sure of that.

“We’re on!” hissed Dulp, and he could feel Skippy tense up above him.


Skippy’s Field Notes #29:

The balancing act we are performing is precarious for humans and takes training for them, but for my kind and goblins, such a feat is commonplace. Both halflings and goblins are a diminutive lot, and as such, this seems a disadvantage, but what we lack in size, we more than make up for in agility.

Every year in Poppy Seed, my home village as you know, we have the Spring Ale Festival, a time of fun and fancy free when every able adult gets drunk on shared ales and beers, and then we all engage in various contests of luck and skill. We have pie eating, sausage eating, cards, the horseshoe toss, the three-legged race, stacking, and my personal favorite, the wet undershirt contest, but this entry is about the stacking contest.

In the stacking contest, all of us head down to the nearby lake and line up in several rows before the lake, the groups determined by random draw through our mayor. At the lake, we have several watchtowers with tall ladders. Every group lines up at a ladder and then determines which position its members will be in, and then they all climb the ladder and stack, feet to shoulders, one after the next, with two of the most able bodies on the ground next to the foundation stacker for additional support. After stacking, we let go, and every group turns in unison toward the lake. Whichever group stays standing the longest before collapsing or plunging into the lake wins.

This is why standing upon Dulp’s shoulders is no difficult task for me, and the gobs have been performing such feats for many years now. Such a thing is easy for us.

However—and I must be frank—I would much rather be the carrier than the balancer, and I would much rather be holding up a bogo, preferably a bogo with a shapely bottom, one with very pleasing curves, as this would provide an overall ergonomic and efficient balance to the trick with no wasted energy. I’m certain a lack of undergarments for her would further reduce weight and provide increased stability.

S.P.W.


The wagon pulled onto the ambush stretch as the horses came trotting around the bend. Dulp was not exactly fond of horses; they were too large for their own good, and they tended to trample creatures of his size, not such a good thing when planning a raid, but this was a highway raid, so such a thing was expected, though definitely not wanted.

The wagon slowed to a halt as the horses were ordered to stop before the collapsed trees and brush strewn out across this dirt road.

There were two drivers guiding the wagon, big human men wearing their oversized human clothes. Each of them wore brown, indistinct tunics, hoods, and trousers, each big burly men with big moustaches and short beards, and they looked like hardened guard types, two peoples that were ones to watch.

Of course, if any trouble went down, Dulp was bolting. In that event, Skippy would more than likely tumble off of Dulp’s shoulders, but that was Skippy’s problem, not his. Besides, Skippy was a White Skulls gob, so he could take care of himself. It was every gob for himself when it came to danger anyway. That was the Way of the Gob.

But that was something Dulp always planned for. Right now, it was time for action.

“Now!” hissed Dulp.

He walked out into the center of the road while carefully balancing Skippy on his shoulders. Skippy had been thoroughly briefed on what to do, but there was always doubt, something Dulp had never seemed to rid himself of.

One of the big wagon drivers, the one on Dulp’s left, the drivers’ right, stared at them for a moment before reaching into his belt pouch and pulling forth a sheet of paper. This human male unfolded the paper, squinted, and read whatever was written upon it.

Dulp had no idea what this was about, but he knew Skippy was already brandishing the B.F.C. and shining forth that “menacing scowl” he was so proud of.

Dulp had the unfortunate intelligence of understanding the strange and guttural language that humans spoke. He was actually a savant when it came to languages, though there were some he simply could not stand to hear or speak, such as elven. This was one of the many reasons the Chief always sent him out to lead raids; that, and the old bastage hated him, but that was neither here nor there.

Besides that talent, it wasn’t like human speak was that difficult. Human speak was very close to orc when it came to pronunciation; there really wasn’t that much of a difference. Now the gob language? He could talk that all day long. That was a bop.

“Oh…no…” said the first wagon driver in a focused, staggered, and monotoned voice. “We…are…being…robbed…Please…don’t…”

The first wagon driver turned and whispered something into the other driver’s right ear, they both looked down at the paper in question, and then the second driver whispered something back to the first driver.

“Hurt…hurt us,” stammered the first driver. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He nodded at the other driver, and the second driver grinned in approval.

“That’s good, that’s good,” said the second driver. “I told you you could do it.”

He smacked the first driver on the back and gave him another wide grin.

“You’ll be reading like the king’s scribe soon,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” nodded the first driver. “It’s not so tough once you get used to the way a word is spelled.”

Dulp still had no idea what this was about, but that didn’t matter, because his crack team of idio…gobs was already on the move.

Wappa was normally responsible for building hutches, but the broad-shouldered gob easily dismantled the latches on the back end of the wagon, and the rest of the team quickly went to work. The back end of the wagon came down in a large wooden ramp with the flick of a lever, a handy little and fortuitous feature Dulp did not regularly see on wagons.

Large, easily-movable pallets loaded with goods slid down the ramp as the gobs pulled them off and dragged them out toward the tree line, the pallets already set up with wheels and ropes for easy pulling.

This was hands down the easiest job Dulp had ever had, insanely easy, in fact. There was nothing to it. The wagon drivers were big sissies that did that reading stuff, the wagon was designed for easy loading and unloading, and they even had wheeled pallets for moving the goods. It was like this particular merchant’s venture was just begging to be robbed.

The only difference between this one and other highway raids was that Skippy was with them, and when it came to raids, Skippy was proving to be very good luck…up until he wasn’t.

One of the wagon drivers, the second driver, pulled forth a scroll case from somewhere on his person and hopped down off the wagon. He trudged up to the pair without a shred of fear on his bearded face, and Dulp felt his knees knock as the big human male walked right up to them, scroll case in hand.

Dulp wanted to run, but he could feel no tension from above him…Skippy was not afraid at all. Dulp could only stare straight ahead at this big man’s belt, so whatever Skippy was going to do, shoot the driver, signal Dulp to run, or hold, the ugly little gob was going to have to do it fast.

The second wagon driver popped open the scroll case and pulled forth some rolled up papers. Dulp could feel the weight of the B.F.C. hanging off to one side as Skippy looped the huge weapon over his right arm and shoulder via the leather strap it came with.

Skippy took the papers as the big man pulled forth a quill and ink bottle from his belt pouch. The big man popped open the ink bottle, dipped in the quill, and handed the feathered writing instrument to Skippy.

“Oh, uhhhh, yeah Mr. Highwayman, Sir,” nodded the second driver. “Sign here, here, and here.”

He turned and offered his back to them as Skippy placed the papers on the man’s back and scrawled out a signature in three different places.

This was all very unorthodox. Apparently, the humans were being robbed so much that they now had to authenticate a robbery for insurance purposes.

Dulp imagined it had to be a very depressing life as a human. He was suddenly glad he was a gob, tough as being a gob was at times…but he’d still rather be a gob than a human…He was definitely glad he was a gob and not a bogo. What an unending nightmare that would be.

After that quick little nervousness, the second wagon driver took his papers, quill, and ink and returned to his wagon seat. This was definitely the signal for Dulp to make tracks with Skippy. They could separate once they were in the trees.

Dulp trotted to the tree line and disappeared within the thick brush there. They had their haul anyway, and it was quite a haul at that, just as Skippy had foreseen.


Skippy’s Field Notes #30:

Requisitioned from the Academy:

6 Bolts of Cloth (Various Colors)

2 Sets of Sewing Needles and Assorted Spools of Thread

3 Boxes of Wooden String Ties

4 Hammers with 16 Boxes of Nails

30 lbs. of Sausage

24 lbs. of Salted Beef

30 Live Chickens (Hens)

 6 Bags of Edible Mushrooms

1 Bag of Medicinal Mushrooms (Handle with Care)

2 Boxes of Bandages

Various Herbs and Spices

3 Boxes of Tea

3 Pots of Honey

12 Bushels of Carrots

6 Bags of Onions

4 Sacks of Potatoes

8 Sacks of Turnips

2 Sacks of Salt

2 Boxes of Black Pepper

4 Large Wheel Pallets

1 Box of Linen Hand Towels (Very Useful)

1 Booklet: “The Stableboy’s Surprise: Miranda Bogo Bares It All, Lewd Stories of Hafenstadt, Volume VI, Issue V” (For Research Purposes)

1 Bottle of Ludvig Mainard’s Lubricating Love Lotion (Also for Research Purposes)

Other Goods and Sundries of Which I Lost the Receipts For

S.P.W.


**********

Dulp sighed as he laid back and patted his belly.

It was getting late, he was in his own hutch with Skippy, and most importantly, he was now full of fried chicken and sausage. Life was good.

“Ahh, what a day,” he grinned. “We’ve never had a haul like that.”

Skippy was busy with some booklet he’d taken as his cut, something he refused to show to Dulp, and the ugly little gob was busy using that booklet as a reference for drawing in his sketchbook.

“Yep, yep,” nodded Skippy. “Quite a haul…Quite…a…haul…Let’s see…A little more shading on Jenny’s right nipple…”

“Excuse me, what?” asked Dulp in alarm.

He sat up and stared at Skippy with wide eyes. Skippy simply looked up at him and smiled.

“I said, do you have anything to snack on?” asked Skippy.

“You just ate,” said Dulp. “Even I can’t eat that much, and trust me…I can eat a lot.”

Skippy simply continued to scribble in his sketchpad as a response to Dulp’s verbal judgement. It was kind of annoying.

“Let’s just fill out the curves of the bottom…” said Skippy in a hushed voice. “Oh, I’d love to squeeze those apples for some juice…”

“What?” asked Dulp in even more alarm.

Skippy looked up at him again and gave him that infuriating smile.

“I said, I didn’t eat that much because I was so excited over the haul,” replied the ugly little gob.

Dulp wriggled his right index finger in his right ear. Maybe he was going deaf.

“Oh, uhhh…you gotta eat when you can around here,” he replied. “If you don’t, you don’t eat…It’s a good thing you snagged some stuff before coming in here…”

But Skippy was yet again drawing in his sketchbook.

“Mmm, hmm…” whispered Skippy. “I’d love to kiss those lips…all four of them…Peaches and cream, baby…Peaches…and…cream…”

Dulp coughed a couple of times in response to…whatever was going on. Something was definitely wrong with his hearing right now…It was probably too much chicken. He’d heard that too much chicken juice could make you wonky…maybe even give you selective deafness.

“I…uhhh…Could you repeat that?” he asked.

Skippy gave him another smile and nodded toward the bag he’d taken in from the haul.

“I said, just grab something out of there,” he said happily. “There’s got to be something in there to munch on.”

Dulp’s eyes widened as he shook his head. He really hoped he wasn’t going selectively deaf. Selective deafness was a real problem at times. When he was but a gobling, Murpho Cheesesniffer, a very old gob at the time, ended up having selective deafness. The old gob had thought everyone was saying “The Walrus is Dead.” Dulp had never had any idea as to what a walrus was at the time. Still didn’t.

“Oh…uhhh…okay,” he replied.

He reached over, untied Skippy’s sack, and searched through it. There were small brown sacks of mushrooms in there, including one red sack of mushrooms, dried fungus chips ready for easy snacking, so he just pulled out the colorful sack and flipped it at Skippy.

The ugly little gob caught the red bag without looking, snatching it out of the air with his left hand. He studied his booklet with an intense stare as he undid the string on the bag, pulled forth several mushroom chips, and munched on them without thinking.

“What exactly are you doing over there?” asked Dulp.

Normally, he didn’t care what Skippy did with his sketchbook, but he was terrified of having selective deafness, and he needed to know if he was okay.

Skippy looked up at him, popped some more mushrooms in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then gave him an answer, albeit not the answer Dulp was expecting.

“I’m drawing more sketches of Jenny,” said the ugly little gob. “I have a tea date with her tomorrow, and I want to get in some practice before sketching her again…That reminds me…There should be a little bottle of lotion in that bag, along with some linen hand towels. Could you get those for me?”

Dulp searched through the bag as he looked for Skippy’s requested items, but he did so without thinking about it, because his brain was still trying to process the idea of a “tea date” with Jenny Crazy Eyes. It was clear, though, that he didn’t have selective deafness. Skippy was just being all weird again. It was that strange obsession the ugly little gob had with the bogos, an obsession with death, really, like being obsessed with trying to kiss a bear.

“It’s your funeral, Skippy,” he shrugged. “Don’t do anything to make her mad. She’ll turn you into a toad or explodied you, or she’ll just turn you into a toad and explodied you…I’m not stupid, you know. I thought I had selective deafness, but now I know you’re sketching those nudie drawings of her again…If she finds out…”

“She won’t find out,” said Skippy confidently. “I just got overeager last time. These sketches are for my own personal…collection. I want to see how they match up to the real thing when I get her to pose nude for me.”

Dulp’s eyes widened as he coughed again and shook his head. He could not fathom the thought of Jenny Crazy Eyes in her birthday suit. That would probably instantly kill any normal gob. He suspected, though, that Skippy was far from normal.

He opened up a brown bag of dried mushrooms and popped them into his mouth. They were both crunchy and good. He could see now why Skippy liked them.

“These are good,” he nodded. “I’m glad you snagged them.”

It was best to change the subject anyway.

“Yeah, I really like the after…” began Skippy, but his voice trailed off as he stared down at the red bag he had been pulling mushroom chips from.

“You…You gave me this bag?” he asked in a strange, stammering voice. “The…The red bag?”

Dulp studied the little gob for a moment. Skippy’s face was pale and sweating, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Yeah…Why?” asked Dulp cautiously.


Skippy’s Field Notes #31:

It appears Dulp has mistakenly given me my bag of medicinal mushrooms instead of a normal bag of dried mushroom chips. I am writing this to ensure that I do not lose focus and that I maintain my rationality, as I have never had medicinal mushrooms before, and I have no idea what their effect shall be on me. In fact, those mushrooms were for the Chief because he had personally requested them. It appears I’ll have to requisition more.

Thankfully, and with great praise, I must honor my mother and father for the inheritance of their wonderful resistance to all things sordid in the herb and fungal world, as they partake in herbs, fungus, and spirits quite often, and they have done so since long before I was ever born. I know now that the hardy stock the Willowfluff family brings to the hairless gerbil is popping fresh with mackerel.

Grapes harb flurbenstock with mazel tov gleam shustprior vlurg narpsprag dinzle ishtlegleizen. Purn porble purble murf mocken freeble glubenstein oxsldorzle torglehenge.

Kad;j; adh aiye hd; jk ,mc‘aoe me ’ad,lm dkjiveipie fat Moroccan lovelies jiejafjdjd kdjnb’.xcja ejqiec ,cs ;I mnekki dhnvkn jiej;aid Incans’ magic jewels mkjapi enm ddcemls dakj;djienm;a Skippy and the Bogos World Tour ddjoidd.cjls’ ckja;kd dkcl.

Deska desu nothparlon hazollen burfess jimmajam lurboil swigndoffel morgen frabuble.

Foxes with stethoscopes often verbalize monkey wheels on roller skates.

Insert tab A into slot B. I humbly accept the award for sexiest man alive for twelve hundred and twelve. I’ll take that to go, along with some sanitary wipes.

Hooters.

S.P.W.


“Skippy?” asked Dulp. “Hey…Hey, Skippy…You okay?”

The little gob had opened his field journal and had been furiously scribbling in it for the last ten minutes, dipping and dotting quill and ink like there was no tomorrow. It was weird.

Skippy looked around, swiveling his head with a wide-eyed stare, his blue eyes a million miles away, a look of slight panic on his ugly face.

“You okay there, bud?” asked Dulp.

The ugly little gob grinned, jumped up, and hopped a couple of times.

“I’m back!” he cried, and this made Dulp jump a little from his rested position.

“B…Back from where?” asked Dulp.

“I…I got hit with a beam of light…” stammered Skippy. “I got hit with a beam of light, and…and suddenly I was on another world…I lived out my entire life there…I…I was married…I had kids, and I learned to play the flute…I warned them about the drought, but they didn’t listen, and then the world burned up because of the sun…It was kind of sad…”

Whaaaat are you going on about?” asked Dulp.

This craziness was new. He had no idea what this one was about.

Skippy looked down at the red bag of mushrooms he’d been snacking on and shook his head, a slight smile on his face. He screwed up his lips and gave Dulp a strange look.

“How long was I out?” he asked, a slight panic in his lilting voice. “By the gods! I was supposed to have tea with Jenny…”

“It’s only been a few minutes since you started scribbling in that book of yours,” said Dulp in pure confusion. “You were having a snack and sketching, and then you dropped that and started writing like you were on your deathbed. I didn’t want to bother you, but the look on your face…”

Skippy visibly relaxed and breathed out a long sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he grinned. “It appears I inherited my parents’ resistance to herbal and fungal madness. Thank the gods!”

“What?” asked Dulp. “What in the Great Gob are you talking about?…You’re not making any sense at all.”

“You handed me the red bag,” said Skippy with a knowing nod.

“Yeah, so…” said Dulp.

“Those were medicinal mushrooms,” frowned Skippy.

Dulp’s eyes widened as they flitted from side to side. He really hoped Skippy wasn’t upset about this, because…

He was going to have to play this one off, be nonchalant.

“My bad,” he shrugged. “I didn’t know.”

“Nah, it’s okay, it’s okay,” said Skippy as he waved off Dulp. “That little venture into the unknown gave me some perspective anyway. Of course, the memory of my other life is quickly fading…Doggonit…I wanted to write some of that down…”

“Whatever you say, pal,” said Dulp. “You were writing something…”

“Of course!” said Skippy in excitement. “Let me just check what I’ve got…”

He picked up his field journal and peered down at it, but his sudden enthusiasm quickly turned into disappointment.

Nooooo…” he whined. “It’s just nonsense. Doggonit…”

“Them’s the breaks, I guess,” shrugged Dulp.

**********

Dulp drank from his waterskin at the well. It was well into the afternoon, but there was nothing to do right now, specifically because the Chief had not ordered him to do anything, and as long as the Chief hadn’t ordered him to do anything, he wasn’t doin’ nothin’. That was the Way of the Gob.

He turned and watched as Skippy came walking up to him, a huge grin on the little gob’s ugly face. Skippy had been gone all morning, off to have tea with Jenny Crazy Eyes, and honestly, Dulp hadn’t expected him to return at all, at least, not in one piece.

“You’re back,” said Dulp in surprise. “And you’re alive…”

“I’m more than alive!” said Skippy in excitement. “I had the most amazing time!”

Dulp rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to hear about this horror show.


Skippy’s Field Notes #32:

I have had the most wonderful time with Jenny Crazy Eyes! Oh, she is so beautiful in that black dress of hers. We made some fine Poppy Black Tea and talked, mainly about Pingo. I made some sketches of her, made them for her, that is—sadly none of them are of her in the buff…yet—and then I kissed her! I kissed her!

I feel like I have wings on my feet, like I’m floating, and not because of any residual effects from the mushrooms I consumed…Yes, I had an incredible time. As a first date, I think it went awesomely well.

Jenny even gave me a gift in return for the sketches and company. It’s a small ball of crystal about the size of a king’s piece, a beautiful little violet crystal that acts as a one-way form of communication to Jenny in case I’m ever in any danger. If I’m ever in dire need of her assistance, all I have to do is speak in a code she enchanted upon the crystal, and she’ll come to my aid. She had me speak the code of my choosing into the crystal in order to enchant it, so I chose my old locker number from the Academy, a simple string of numbers, those numbers being 8675309. I’ve ensured her that I’ll only use the crystal if my life is actually in danger.

Other than that…let’s see…we talked about Pingo, and I got some more information on the bogos of Pingo, mainly about who they liked and didn’t like. Apparently, Maria Consuela Alejandra De León-Hernández likes Grendo, although such a pairing is suspect, considering M.C.A.D.L.H. is the bogos’ main cook and Grendo is the village rat catcher.

Curly Shirley likes Murt, but I already knew that. Akira the Blade has a thing for Jeans, every bogo likes Yappa for some reason, and all the bogos like Fancy as a friend, but as to why, I do not know. I think Olga the Grip likes Fancy a little more than normal, but Fancy isn’t interested in her for some reason.

Hmmm…Bok is liked by Fat Mary, but considering he’s the gob fryer of chickens and she’s…uhhh…a lover of food, that makes sense. Tall Sally likes Gimmie, Plain Jane likes Wappa—he’s the hutch builder—Lyga likes Dulp, obviously, and Xenon like Burto. Apparently, Sexy Allie Jenkins likes every gob—Jenny says Allie is “flexible” when it comes to love—and Jamie P. McGillicuddy doesn’t like any of the gobs. Jenny says Jamie likes a boxed lunch, but I don’t see why anyone would choose food over love. I’ve always considered them going hand in hand.

Here’s the best part, though…Jenny likes me. Meeeeee! I asked her if I could catch her during the next rush, and she said, and I quote, “You’ve already caught me, Skippy.” I didn’t even need a trinket.

It was a little daring on my part to kiss her, and she was a little surprised at my brazenness, but she didn’t pull away…Oh, were her lips soft!…I think…I think she might be my girlfriend…I’m not really sure…but wouldn’t that be awesome!

Oh, my first kiss with my first girlfriend…

I’m so happy!

S.P.W.


“Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary?” asked Dulp.

“Because our date was wonderful!” said Skippy in excitement.

Dulp cringed at the word “date.” That was something only humans did. Any self-respecting gob would use the words “torture session” instead.

“We had tea, we talked about the bogos, and then I kissed her!” said Skippy with an enormous grin.

Dulp’s skin immediately blanched as his heart leapt about in his chest.

“You did what?” he asked in a deadly serious tone.

“I kissed her!” said Skippy again, this time with even more gusto.

Dulp immediately grabbed Skippy by his shirt and pushed him back against the bricks of the well. He knew Skippy was a White Skulls, but if Dulp’s time was up anyway, then it didn’t matter if he threatened Skippy or not, did it?

“You did what!” yelled Dulp. “Are you out of your mind!”

Skippy seemed genuinely surprised and definitely a little startled.

“What! What!” asked Skippy in equal alarm. “What did I do wrong!”

“It’s said that anyone who kisses Jenny Crazy Eyes will bring doom upon the entire village!” yelled Dulp. “What in the Heckens were you thinking!”

Yeah…things were about to get bad.

Goblins in the Mist: Chapter Six Copyright © 2022 Matthew L. Marlott


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