PROUD PARENTS
Hedger and Pitliwin stepped away from the edge of their balcony and shut down the Duringlife view screen, which was a device used to watch people who were still alive. It was a favorite pasttime of most people in the Afterlife since the Afterlife was kind of dull, unless you were Agnostic.
“I think our boy is going to be just fine,” Hedger said, beaming with pride.
“He’s all grown up,” Pitliwin agreed. She then said, “He was right, too, you know?”
“About what?”
“He was ready to tinker well before his years.”
Hedger nodded. “I still can’t say that I approve of it. The Age of Tinkering was set to fifty for a reason, dear.”
“Yes, to mark the time when it was okay for a Gnome to explode by his or her own merits.”
“Precisely,” Hedger replied. “However, I am impressed with that boy. He has made me proud with his engineering skills.”
“And his ability to care,” Pitliwin added.
“Of course, that, too.”
Hedger flipped open the Duringlife viewer once more and rewound the feed to see his son sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Whirligig.
“Industrious, indeed.”
TOGETHERNESS
One year had passed since the invention of the Whirligig, and the world had changed drastically for Gappy, Shrit, Tootz, and Merton.
Merton had found that he had a talent for singing, something that had been pointed out to him, surprisingly, by Tootz. Because of this discovery, he had gone back to the name “Scrumptious” for stage reasons, and while he had found a great deal of success, he refused to give up working for Contraptions, LLC. For a while he had even taken to calling himself “The assistant formerly known as Scrumptious,” but that only lasted a couple of weeks before just settling on Scrumptious as standalone.
Shrit had become the lead-inventor for Gappy’s Gadgets, which was now a division of Contraptions, LLC, and the ownership of the company had been divvied up with 51% belonging to Gappy and Tootz. They had given both Shrit and Scrumptious nice percentages of ownership as well, and split the rest among the employees.
And it was a sunny Saturday afternoon when Gappy and Tootz walked into the government building to tie the marital knot. Shrit was acting as Gappy’s best Orc, and Scrumptious was providing song for the private event.
They walked up to Mr. Xorg to get the process under way.
“You got a number?”
§ § §
Three hours later they exited the building wearing their wedding bands. They walked to the top of the Contraptions, LLC building where the latest model of the Whirligig was sitting.
Shrit had taken all of Gappy’s latest technical designs and his own inventiveness and put together a luxury Whirligig that was going to be on the wish list of every wealthy person in all of the Underworld.
“I’ve gotten everything set,” Scrumptious said. “If you have any problems with the rooms or anything at all, be sure to call me and I’ll get it squared away.”
“Thanks, Merton,” Gappy said. “Sorry … I mean, Scrumptious.”
“My pleasure.”
“You know, you turned into a fantastic secretary,” Tootz said proudly.
“Thank you, ma’am, and it’s Administrative Assistant.”
“Ah, right.”
“Okay, love birds,” said Shrit with a wink and a smile, “it’s time for you to go. I’ve got the Whirligig all gassed up. Also added in the features to this model that we talked about. Auto-pilot, a little wine cooler, and even a TV set. You should be able to watch shows all the way to Gakoonk.”
“You are the most inventive person I’ve ever met, Shrit. I’m surprised you’re not a Gnome.”
“Thanks, Gappy,” Shrit said. “Nice to have finally found my calling.”
Tootz had turned on the TV in the back of the Whirligig and the show that came up was Convicts in the Wild. It was the “Where are they now?” episode. Everyone crowded around to watch.
...and it seems that the Halfia people had decided to stay in the woods, the show’s host was saying. Their leader is no longer among them. Actually, according to numerous sources, nobody knows where he ended up. There are many rumors, though. I guess the whereabouts of Huido Hoffa will go down as a mystery in history.
The camera pulled back and showed a town of tiny wooden homes.
The little town, known as Leftfoot Valley, is now a farming community. They no longer dabble in organized crime and they no longer look for trouble wherever they can find it. Now they live the quiet life, seeking peace and prosperity through honest work. This turnaround is mostly thanks to their mayor, and town namesake, Mr. Grumbles Leftfoot. Mr. Leftfoot is a complicated man who speaks incoherently, grunts often, and carries a baseball bat around to exact local law as needed. Though the people of Leftfoot Valley speak highly of Mr. Leftfoot, he considers them, and I quote, “Mummin’ fummin’ melroons.”
§ § §
Shrit and Scrumptious stood on the roof of the Contraptions, LLC building as the Whirligig slowly lifted off.
“I’m going to miss them,” said Scrumptious.
“They’ll be back,” Shrit said consolingly.
“I know, but I’m not used to making decisions on my own.”
“Don’t you make all your singing career decisions?”
“My agent handles that. I just show up and sing.”
“So just focus on that for a while,” suggested Shrit. “They’ll only be gone for a couple of weeks, Merton … erm, Scrumptious.”
“I suppose.”
Webner, Eloquen, and Bizz came out onto the roof a moment later.
“Is that after being them, then?” Webner said, pointing up at the sky.
Shrit nodded.
“Theirs is like a field of daisies flowing in melancholy waves as the breeze of joy cascades across the land with warmth and tenderness.”
Everyone nodded.
“Wait a second,” Eloquen said. “You guys understood that?”
“Not even slightly,” Shrit admitted.
“But it was after sounding fitting for the moment,” Webner agreed.
“Bizz understood it,” Bizz said. “You was talkin’ about love stuff.”
They all looked at the Ogre with surprise and then back up as the Whirligig began pushing forward, off towards Gakook.
“I miss them already,” Scrumptious said solemnly.
“Here’s something that’ll cheer you up.”
Shrit pressed a button on his remote and a streamer came out the back of the Whirligig with a message on it.
“That’s lovely,” Scrumptious said.
“That’s after being a nice touch,” Webner noted.
“Bizz finks dats purdy.”
“Isn’t that spelled wrong?” asked Eloquen, pointing.
Shrit looked up again and read it. Sure enough, instead of saying "Just Married" as he'd intended, it read, "Just Marred."
He groaned and said, “Crap.”
GETTING HIS
Welcome to the Afterlife,” a not-so-cheery Dark Halfling said to Huido.
Huido was dizzy and he had a distinct feeling that he should be in the middle of a fierce headache, but there was no pain.
“Where am I?”
“You didn’t make it,” the host said.
“Didn’t make what?”
“Think about it, pal,” the host said, “it’ll come back to you.”
Huido looked away for a few moments while trying to get his bearings.
The last thing he remembered was standing at the edge of a hill looking out at the road below. Fingernails and Grumbles were with him and he was saying that his plan was to get them back into the world so that they could resume the status quo. Then he remembered hearing Grumbles say, “Mummin’ fummin’ had enough of this fummin’ crap,” and then he saw a shadow. He’d spun around to find both Fingernails and Grumbles swinging a couple of makeshift bats at his head.
“Oh,” he said as the realization of what had happened hit him, literally. “I guess they was tougher than I’d thought.”
“Yep,” the host replied. “So what’s it gonna be?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which of The Twelve do you believe in?”
“You mean that’s real?” Huido asked seriously.
“You’re in the Afterlife, wise guy. What do you think?”
“Right. I guess the Halfling one, then.”
The host pointed him to the entrance to the Halfling god and he stepped up to the counter.
“That’ll be twenty-five bucks,” the counter guy said.
Huido patted his pockets and frowned. “I ain’t got no money.”
“That’s a double-negative …”
“Don’t go there, pal,” Huido warned. “It’s been a rough day.”
“I swear,” the counter guy said with a grunt, “this is the stupidest business venture I’ve ever been conned into. Not a single person has paid since I started working at this joint. It used to be that people would drop some money on the coffin of the deceased to pay for passage when they got here, but we didn’t have a counter back then. Now, nobody pays!”
“Well, you know what they say about how you can’t take it with ya,” Huido replied with a shrug. “So what happens now?”
“I guess I’ll declare bankruptcy …”
“I mean me,” Huido interrupted. “What happens with me?”
“Oh, right,” the guy said with a grunt. “Let me check your records.” He said, “hmmm” and “huh” a few times before saying, “You can’t come in here anyway.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you have to find a job and the only jobs left are in the Agnostic area, unless you want to buy this booth?”
“A job?” Huido yelled. “But I’m in the Afterlife! What the hell do I need a job for? I thought it was supposed to be all golden streets, cigars, and daiquiris.”
“And for those who were good in life, it is,” the counter guy said. “For the rest of us, we’re forced to live an eternity of working in jobs that we hate.”
“But, wait,” Huido said, “I thought that the place you went when you were bad was called Hell? I mean, I wasn’t sure that any of this even existed, to be honest. Just went to church to be safe, ya know? But I definitely remember the preacher saying that you either went up or you went down. I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Yeah, well, that was wrong, pal,” the counter guy pointed out, “but I can assure you, having been working in the Afterlife for more than fifty years, it’s most definitely Hell.”
A LETTER FROM
OOGA
Dear Reader,
I never thought that I would be able to attain my dream of working on my own HTTV show, but because you have become a part of the world of Ononokin, you’ve allowed me to reach my summit!
My new show, Designing with Ooga, is premiering in two weeks on HTTV and I’ve already landed multiple contracts to redesign hotels in both Dakmenhem and Gakoonk.
Because of you, I’ve become not only wealthy, but also famous!
In order to express my gratitude, I’m offering you a 50% off deal on any one design need that you may have. That’s right, regardless of where you are in the Underworld, I will come to your place and work with my team to design your dream layout.
Also, if your design is picked by my crew as being one of the top-10 for the year, you’ll be featured on Designing with Ooga.
Well, I have to run now, I’m being interviewed on Oompah shortly and you all know how self-important Ogres get when you’re late!
~Ooga
Thanks for Reading!
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Tales from the Land of Ononokin
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THE LAND OF ONONOKIN
The land of Ononokin is much like other lands, though quite different at the same time. There is land, air, trees, clouds, storms, rivers, oceans, mountains, and so on, but there is also a divide that separates two distinct realities.
One of these realities is known as the Upperworld. It’s quite medieval in nature. The people travel by horse, live in brick and wooden homes, and spend the majority of their time either farming, taverning, or both. Other than your standard fare professions of metalsmith, bricklayer, and the like, the Upperworld is the home of knights and wizards. Many races share this Upperworld, including Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, Halflings, Giants, Gorgans, and Dragons. Most of the time they live harmoniously.
The second reality is called the Underworld. This is not because it is some den of evil. Rather, it’s because when the two halves were being named the Upperworlders got to the naming table first and, thinking themselves more important than their neighbors, they convinced The Twelve to grant them the loftier title.
Who are The Twelve? We’ll get to that in a moment.
The Underworld acts as home to many races, including all of those from the Upperworld. The additional ones are Dark Elves, Dark Dwarfs, Dark Halflings (are you catching a theme here?), Vampires, Trolls, Orcs, Ogres, Werewolves, and Gnomes. Just like their Upperworld relations, Underworlders work in various jobs that keep the economy going. The primary difference is that they don’t churn out knights and wizards. Actually, they find magic a tad unsettling. Instead, their society relies on electricity, TalkyThingies, computers, and various other digital wonders.
Back to The Twelve. These are essentially the gods that watch over Ononokin. Not very many people believe that they actually exist, but many pay homage to them anyway, just in case. There are twelve to represent all of the races. Now, of course they didn’t bother to duplicate any of The Twelve to cover the doubled races like elves and dark elves. And before you ask, the reason there aren’t thirteen is because the dragons denied involvement, believing that they were god-like enough all on their own.
The Upperworld and Underworld are separated by a thin layer of reality. Underworlders are well aware of their Upperworld cousins, having created a portal system that allows travel between the two realities, but only an elite class of Upperworlders know about the other side. For the common Upperworlder, though, Vampires, Werewolves, and so on are merely fictional tales and folklore.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
John P. Logsdon
John was raised in the MD/VA/DC area. Growing up, John had a steady interest in writing stories, playing music, and tinkering with computers. He spent over 20 yea
rs working in the video games industry where he acted as designer and producer on many online games. He’s written science fiction, fantasy, humor, and even books on game development. While he enjoys writing lighthearted adventures and wacky comedies most, he can’t seem to turn down writing darker fiction. John lives with his wife, son, and Chihuahua.
On the web: www.JohnPLogsdon.com
Christopher P. Young
Chris grew up in the Maryland suburbs. He spent the majority of his childhood reading and writing science fiction and learning the craft of storytelling. He worked as a designer and producer in the video games industry for a number of years as well as working in technology and admin services. He enjoys writing both serious and comedic science fiction and fantasy. Chris lives with his wife and an ever-growing population of critters.
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by John P. Logsdon & Christopher P. Young
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
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