G’narsh
The Troll, The Myth, The Legend
by
Kevin Stillwater
chapter 3
# # # And Here Now Our Story - G’narsh’s Ray’s # # #
page 12
In her place a short bipedal walking alligator type creature (((one of the cobalts -- just in case I haven’t described them before)))
picks up the conversation. “You must have droppy dis,” he says as
he tosses the coin onto G’narsh’s desk where it lands amid the stacks
containing hundreds more of its kind. “Ohh, I sees why it so
difficult to keep track of dis little one. You’se got da so many
of dem. What da one more matter?” And having said what he
wished to say, the cobalt (((the Charlie as they all are called, but I think you probably got that by now))) stands at attention (((sort of, kind of, OK, not really, not really at attention at all)))
as he waits for G’narsh’s reply. But there is none forth
coming. G’narsh is thinking about the cobalt’s words and looking
at the stack of gold before him. “You’se supposed to say
something, boss man,” the cobalt reminds him; and then, after a moment
more adds, “Like tankees,” or after thinking on it even more
adds, “In da old days you’d maybe probablies turn it around and makee
eet da Charlie’s fault. You’d yell and scream, maybe eben rip da
Charlie or two in da half.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Eh, eet OK,” Charlie assures him as he leans against G’narsh’s leg and
waves it off. “Does good times. Betides, Charlie gotta dat
tricky blood,” regenerative powers and all that. “We more
resiliency den you’d tink.”
“Is that a fact?”
G’narsh asks as he raises the waist high (or in G’narsh’s case, knee
high) creature up so that they are eye to eye.
“We’se toughies,” the cobalt responds undeterred.
“Then I’ve got a mission for you.”
“Yippies,” the cobalt responds excitedly as his arms and legs dance about in the air.
“It’s dangerous.”
“Dat be da Charlie’s middle name.”
“And in all likelihood no one will ever thank you.”
“Eh,” the cobalt says dismissing the thought with his hand, “no’b one
eber tanks da Charlie. We wait for da tanks, we die of da old
age.”
“OK then, just so you understand the risks involved.”
“Dis da real mission?” Charlie asks suddenly very serious and interested.
G’narsh nods his head in agreement as he sets the creature down
on his desk. “We’ve waited long enough.” But not liking the
sound of that, “I’ve waited long enough. I need you to do a quick
sweep of the perimeter and if you find anyone hiding face down in the
snow...”
“Da enemy infilb-trators?”
“Yeah, but pretend you’re friends.”
“We be nice-nice. We’se invite dem back. Maybe feed them da
pizza. Den dey be ours,” the cobalt concludes as he hops down
onto the floor.
“Oh, and put an extra log in
the oven, as well,” G’narsh says in relay of Flicker’s request after he
senses that he and the cobalt have come to an understanding.
“Yeppers,” the cobalt nods as he starts off on his quest.
“Charlie gettee dem all comfee. Den when’d dey wake up, dey tink
dey be ones of us.” And then, thinking this through, the little
guy scratches his head as he pauses to add, “Dat be too much for’d some
ob’d dem. Dat be when dey pukies.”
“It
is what it is,” G’narsh agrees before suggesting hopefully, “If you are
up to it, before we go to sleep tonight, I’d like to sing some of the
old songs.”
“We’d hab’d da party?”
“Yeah. You think you can keep from killing anyone if we sing the real words?”
“Dose da only’d words we know’d. Does ober words just be da
camoflage for da big guy.” And then, scurrying off he adds
excitedly, “I goes tell da guys.”