Without henchmen, Huido’s hands were tied.
He went to close the blinds when his eye fell on the Rent-A-Friend building. The Halfia boss may not have been blessed with smarts, but he had cunning. A smile formed on his face as a plan began to form in his brain. Slowly, yes, but it was indeed forming.
§ § §
“Hey,” the counter guy at Rent-A-Friend said as Huido strolled in, “we’ve already paid. Get out.”
“Not here for that,” Huido replied, fighting himself from lashing out at his fellow Dark Halfling.
The counter guy eyed him suspiciously “What do you want, then?”
“Looking for some henchmen.”
“Henchmen?”
“Yeah,” Huido said. “I wanna rent some.”
“This is Rent-A-Friend, pal,” the counter guy said, “not Rent-A-Henchman.”
Huido nodded and looked around the shop, thinking of all the ways he could damage it once his boys were on the mend. He needed this counter guy to cooperate, though, and there was only one of him at the moment. Again, inspiration struck.
“I’ll forgive next month’s payment if you treat me right,” he said.
“Rent-A-Henchman it is,” the counter guy replied with a surprised look. “How many do you need?”
“Five ought to do it.”
“Want to interview them?”
“I’ll have a quick chat,” Huido answered. “Got any Dwarfs?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Make three of them Dwarfs.”
The counter guy shrugged and pointed at Room A. “Go in there and I’ll send them in.”
Huido took a seat and waited with his feet up on another chair. It was a nice joint, actually. Cozy. Not a lot of noise. There was always a lot of noise in his office. Maybe he’d have to do something about that.
His TalkyThingy vibrated, interrupting his peace. It was Fingernails texting him.
What are you doin’, boss?
Huido sighed, but typed, Finding some temporary henchmen. Shouldn’t you be sleeping, or is your toe feeling better already?
You’re replacing us that fast?
I said it was temporary, ya goon.
Oh, Fingernails texted back. Had me worried, boss.
Yeah, yeah. Well, if you pansies don’t heal up fast, I will find permanent replacements. Still amazes me that you’re lying in bed due to a stubbed toe.
But it hurts, boss!
Huido shook his head. A stubbed toe? Seriously? He needed to start hitting them in the head with bricks to toughen them up.
Maybe we should start calling you Toenails instead of Fingernails.
Don’t do that, boss. The guys’ll make fun.
The door opened and three Dwarfs, an Elf, and an Ogre poured in behind the counter guy. Huido gave them the once over. They looked stupid enough for the job, which was good because Huido wasn’t a fan of smarties.
Gotta go.
Okay, boss.
“Listen up,” the counter guy said. “This guy is your friend for the day. What he says goes, yeah?”
Everyone nodded. The counter guy grunted at them and then walked out. All in all, Huido approved of the way his fellow Dark Halfling handled business. He’d still squeeze him for coins after his month’s reprieve was up, but at least he’d show him some respect while doing it.
“All right,” Huido said, looking from face to face. “I need one of you to step up and lead this group. I don’t want to spend my time talking to five guys, see? So who wants to be in charge?” They all raised their hands at the same time. “You,” Huido said, pointing at the Elf. “What’s your name?”
“Eloquen,” the Elf replied. “Blue is the picture that the soul portrays for the Dark Halfling, yet red is the true soul’s measure when—”
“Okay, shut up,” Huido said gruffly. “I ain’t talking to you about things if you keep using that kind of speak.” He pointed next at the Ogre. “You?”
“Bizz are Bizz’s name,” said the Ogre with a wide grin. “Bizz don’t like little people.”
“Oh yeah? All types of little people or specific ones?”
“Bizz don’t like none of dem, but Bizz mostly just kick da Gnomes.”
“Good,” Huido said, seeing promise in this one. “You got any brains?”
Bizz began checking his pockets. “Bizz don’t fink so.”
“Damn.”
One of the Dwarfs pushed the Ogre out of the way. He was stout with pale green eyes, ruddy cheeks, a wide nose, and a red beard so thick that he could hide a small safe in it. He had the kind of face that was perpetually angry. Huido liked him immediately.
“I’ll be in charge of the damn troop,” the Dwarf said grumpily. “The name’s Irondust, Webner Irondust.” Then he looked back at Bizz and added, “And if ye even think about kicking me, I’ll tan yer hide like yer ma used to.” Bizz backed away slowly, looking rather frightened by the threat. “Now,” Webner said, “what’s it yer after wantin’ us to do, mister?”
Huido nodded. This one definitely had promise.
“Barn fire,” he said.
“We’re party people, ye daft bastard,” Webner shouted, “not henchmen.”
So much for promise.
If they’d been his normal henchmen, he’d get up, yell at them, and tell them that if they didn’t cooperate, he’d fire each and every one of them. That might work here, too, he mused. Then again, he’d had a fair amount of luck with going the cunning route since coming up with this idea.
“No, no, no,” he said more gently than he was accustomed to. “It’s a good thing, yeah? We do it all the time as a way to, uh, welcome a guy to town.”
Webner grimaced. “Lived here twenty years and ain’t never heard of that.”
“It’s a new tradition,” Huido stated as if it were fact. “Starting today.”
“Oh, that makes sense, then,” Webner replied thoughtfully. “How’s it work?”
“It’s simple,” Huido explained. “You pour a bunch of gasoline in a circle around the guy’s barn and then you light it on fire and yell, ‘Surprise!’ when the guy comes out. See?”
“That’s it?”
Huido nodded.
“Hmmm.”
“He’ll love it,” added Huido. “It’ll make him feel welcomed to our community.”
“If you say so. And after that we just hang out and have drinks and food?”
“What?” Huido replied, and then caught himself. “Oh, right, yeah. Just what you said.”
“All right,” Webner said, wiping his nose, “we’ll be after doin’ it.”
“Good,” Huido said. “And you guys will follow instructions, yeah?”
“O’course we will, ye rangy pilgrim,” Webner said, looking affronted. “Mostly, anyway. When’s the party?”
“Tonight.”
BUSTED
Since the lower level of the barn had yet to be completely transformed, Shrit was still sleeping inside the tiny house. Well, partially anyway. The barn would give the Orc plenty of room, but until then, Shrit’s feet would continue hanging out the door.
“Congratulations on your flight, Gappy,” Shrit said from the floor. Gappy looked over the ledge of his loft. “I’m not much into that sort of thing, but you’ve done something nobody else ever has, and that’s impressive.”
“Actually,” Gappy replied, “there was this Gnome in Hubintegler named Burdles who created something he called a GnomeWhirlie. I’ve never seen it, but I heard that it was similar to what I’ve done.”
“Whatever happened to that guy?”
“Let’s find out.” Gappy snagged his GnomePad and Gnoogled Burdles. “Here he is.”
“Where?”
“On my GnomePad.”
“What?”
“I’ve found information about him on Gnoogle.”
“Oh, right,” Shrit said, clearly in the throes of dozing off.
“Says that he created a bunch of flying apparatuses, but never got any of them
to market. Seems like a pretty private guy.”
Shrit responded with a snore and a whistle. Gappy shook his head and started looking over the images that had been posted about Burdle’s flying contraptions. One of them was long with two wings and a tail that went up. It looked kind of like a metal bird. Under it was the name GnomeJet.
Bing-bing-bing!
“What?” Shrit sat straight up, smacking his head above the door again. “Ouch! Why does that keep happening?”
The outside lit up as bright as day as Gappy jumped down from his loft and squeezed past Shrit and out the door. He had his pebble gun at the ready. He knew it wasn’t going to do much against a Dark Halfling, except maybe sting a little, but sting it would.
He raised it, squinted his left eye and took aim with his right, and then slowly lowered the weapon as he found that it wasn’t a member of the Halfia who was standing outside of his barn.
“Scrumptious?” Shrit said, catching up to Gappy.
“Looks like it,” Gappy said, sounding lost. “Scrumptious, what are you doing here?”
“Sorry to have woken you,” Scrumptious said with a wave. “I’m here to steal the blueprints for the Whirligig.”
“I’ll tell you why he’s here,” Shrit said menacingly. “He’s here to … oh, wait, did you really just own up to that?” Scrumptious nodded dumbly. “See?” Shrit said to Gappy. “I told you that that Tootz lady couldn’t be trusted, Gappy.”
“I’m sure she had nothing to do with this,” Gappy said, though he didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself.
“Let’s find out,” Shrit replied, putting his hands on his hips. “Who put you up to this, Scrumptious?”
“Ms. Gibdawdle, sir.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Told you, Gappy.”
“Bolts and washers!” It wasn’t like Gappy to curse in Gnome fashion, but he was shocked and starting to feel quite angry. “I’m completely stunned.”
“I should point out, sir, that it was me doing the stealing and not Contraptions, LLC.”
“Sorry?”
“Ms. Gibdawdle made that very clear when she told me I had to steal the blueprints, sir.”
“Wow,” Shrit said. “She’s a complete bi…”
“Businessperson?” finished Scrumptious, proudly. “Yes, sir. She is, at that.”
“No, I was …” Shrit paused and thought for a second. “Actually, businessperson is about right.”
“I’m speechless,” Gappy said.
“You’re not used to the big city, Gappy,” Shrit pointed out. “Things are different here.”
“Shrit, Hubintegler is ten times the size of Planoontik.”
“That may be, but you’re all Gnomes, and Gnomes aren’t exactly ‘big city’ types, except for Tootz, obviously.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Gappy said with a downcast look. “I thought she actually liked me.”
“She does,” Scrumptious said.
Gappy scoffed. “Sure knows how to show it.”
“You think so? I would have thought you would see it differently.”
“I was being sarcastic, Scrumptious.”
“Ah, Ms. Gibdawdle says I don’t understand sarcasm.” He shrugged. “So, are you going to have me arrested?”
Gappy pressed the button on his remote to dim the lights. He didn’t want them fully off, but he was also not interested in getting a tan. He started walking to the barn with Shrit and Scrumptious in tow.
“No,” he said to Scrumptious. “I know you’re only doing what you were tricked into doing.”
“I was tricked?”
“Unless your name is actually Scrumptious, I would say you’ve been tricked.”
“I see,” Scrumptious said thoughtfully. “My real name is Merton Myron Wambles.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said Shrit.
STRANDED
The TalkyThingy had provided freedom of communications to the inhabitants of the Underworld, and to the extent of reaching out to those in the Upperworld who had the rights to hold such technology, though there were few who did.
TalkyThingy owners were free of wires, as their voices traveled through digital means across a vast network of towers that were all interconnected for the sole purpose of making ridiculous amounts of money for companies like Jog, Orcrizon, Everything Expensively Ltd. (EE), and G-Mobile. The corporate monstrosities fought over who had the best coverage, the best TalkyThingies, and the best plans. Consumers mostly got robbed as they were trapped into multi-year contracts that gouged their bank accounts so that they could have the privilege of being incessantly disconnected during important conversations, find themselves without any service at all due to tower distances or outages, and give them the ability to call into the customer service departments of one of the big four to be talked down to, patronized, or told that the issue is only temporary. On the plus side, they weren’t as bad as the cable companies.
Typically, Tootz was one to believe that the issues that came along with the TalkyThingy were well worth it. She understood that a mere 20 years ago people were stuck on their wired phones and that this was a massive step up. The fact was that people had gotten so used to the more freeing form of communication that they’d forgotten how bad it used to be.
At the moment, though, she was cursing Orcrizon because Scrumptious was not answering his TalkyThingy. This either meant that he was in the midst of picking up the blueprints, was out of cellular range, or had been captured. Of the three options, and of her experience with Orcrizon over the last two years, she’d assumed her assistant had lost his signal. The problem with that theory was that his phone was ringing all the way through, until it reached his voicemail:
You have reached the voicemail of Merton Myron Wambles, unless this is Ms. Gibdawdle calling, then you have reached the voicemail of Scrumptious. I’m not available right now because Ms. Gibdawdle sent me out to steal some blueprints from Gappy’s Gadgets. Leave me a message, though, and I will call you back as quickly as possible.
“Idiot,” Tootz said with a groan.
She grabbed her keys and headed down to the main garage, picking up her Trollcedes CL-1, and sped out of town. It was already dark out so the roads were clear as she hit the accelerator.
“I hate it when he doesn’t pick up,” she said through gritted teeth. “I pay damn good money to that Human.”
It was only a matter of minutes before she got near to Gappy’s barn. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any patrol vehicles around or she would have been pulled over for reckless driving. Not that it would have mattered. Most of the police were in her hip pocket since her company was the only one who could machine their crossbows and guns. Of course, they could order from other parts of Ononokin, but since she’d made it a policy of Contraptions, LLC to only provide maintenance for products manufactured by Contraptions, LLC, it was the rare individual who had ventured out.
She pulled into an area just beside Gappy’s driveway, jumped out of the CL-1, and headed into the woods. Her plan was to get to the perimeter and see what exactly Scrumptious was up to.
“He’d better have gotten those blueprints, I can tell you that,” she said to the trees as she walked deeper into the forest. “If he hasn’t, that’ll be his job, it will!”
Crack.
Tootz froze and looked over her shoulder. Walking about 20 feet behind her was a coyote. Fortunately, it hadn’t seen her, because she would have made a nice snack for a dog that large, and it wouldn’t care if she was the president of a high-profile mechanical engineering firm or not. Suddenly, Tootz felt very small as the coyote padded off in the opposite direction.
She spun around and started running as fast as her tiny legs could manage. Fueled by adrenaline and the desire to not be eaten, she covered quite a fair amount of ground before finding a suitable tree to climb. Gnomes were considered quite adept at climbing, but when ignited by fear, they could scale smooth granite that was covered with grease.
“Calm down, T
ootz,” she said aloud as she worked to slow her breathing.
That’s when she realized that the combination of her arrogance and her fear-induced sprint had gotten her deeper into the woods than she’d expected. She looked left and right but couldn’t see anything except the dull light from the city in the distance. She shimmied around to the other side of the tree and noticed a very dim glow coming from a few hundred feet out. That, she hoped, was Gappy’s barn.
If she could just get there, she’d be safe.
But she couldn’t go there. Gappy would be on to her immediately, and even if she could use her wiles on him, that damnable Orc would see right through her. Plus, what if they had captured Scrumptious?
She grabbed for her TalkyThingy and prayed to The Twelve that there’d be a signal. Data was out, as expected, but there was just enough connectivity to allow her to send a text.
“You’d better get this damn text, Scrumptious,” she said as she typed with one hand while hanging on to the tree with her other one. “If you don’t, I’ll have your hide hanging on my wall.”
SURPRISE!
Gappy, Shrit, and Scrumptious had gone into the barn and back to the little common area that Shrit had worked on. It was unfinished, but it was better than standing outside.
“I guess it’s true what they say about people who are in business,” Gappy said sadly.
“You talking about ethics?” Shrit asked.
“Or lack thereof, yes.”
“Not everyone is like her, Gappy,” Shrit pointed out. “Just the successful ones.”
“That makes me feel better. Thanks, Shrit.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Scrumptious said, “but do you smell something?”
“Probably the taco I had earlier,” Shrit admitted. “Sorry.”
“No, it smells like gas.”
Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin) Page 66
