Should I go back? No, don’t go back. Start fresh.
“Where are you going to begin?” Diomedes asks.
“If only I knew,” Writer Lady says.
“I’m sure your story will be flawless wherever you begin.”
“Thank you Diomedes, that’s always nice to hear.”
Writer Lady looks out the window. Spring arrived in its own good time this year. In early May the weather was still too cool and dry to plant much of anything. It makes keeping the yard mowed less challenging but leaves her planters looking bare and empty.
“You’re not writing, are you unwell Milady?”
“What? No, I’m fine. I was just thinking about how empty the flower beds look at the moment.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Tinkletoes says.
The self-proclaimed mercenary stands in the entrance to High Command.
“You usually just roll with things and when the weather’s good you pick up a few supplies and go for it.”
Writer Lady turns the Big Writing Chair to face him. “I do. For some reason the empty planters are more of a thing this year.” She says, cocking her head to one side like she’s listening to something before releasing a sigh.
Tinkletoes turns to leave High Command, stopping after taking a couple of steps, “Not having flowers in the yard can be inhospitable. It takes away from our fellow residents’ enjoyment of the neighborhood. A lady wouldn’t deny others enjoyment of nature.”
The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes his head like a dog drying off after a thorough soaking before leaving the room. Heading into the kitchen, he pulls a mug out of the cabinet that reads, Starter Fluid, and pours his first cup of the day. Noticing something moving in his peripheral vision he looks down to find a ginger tabby drinking some water.
“Hey Dobby.”
“Hey,” Dobby Cat says before returning to his Ninja-Zombie Slayer bowl.
“Your mom, has she been acting a little bit different lately?”
Turning away from his bowl, Dobby Cat jumps onto the kitchen counter and sits down in front of his brother-in-arms.
“Different how?”
“Not writing much.”
“She’s been trying to find a job for a while now. She’s worried about paying the bills and feeding all of us.”
“So things that don’t usually bother her are bothering her. It’s almost like she thinks things she has no control over are her responsibility.”
“Ye-ah,” Ray says as he backs out of the pantry. “Of course things she can’t control aren’t her problems to solve. Just like it’s really not her problem we’re out of cheese puffs. She barely eats any of that stuff.”
Dobby Cat’s mouth drops open in shock. A grin crosses Tinkletoes’ lips, he waits.
“A guy has to take responsibility for his own cheese puff supply eventually. It wouldn’t kill me to buy my own snacks.”
“It’s about time,” Aunt Purdy says as she walks into the kitchen. The cheerfully optimistic woman who is always ready for anything enters the room in her pj's and a ratty robe wearing her bed slippers on the wrong feet.
“There’s our favorite lady,” Tinkletoes says with his most charming grin.
Aunt Purdy stops. She turns and looks at the self-proclaimed mercenary, her eyes narrowed.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Waffles would be good.”
“The ingredients and the waffle iron are right there,” she says, pointing to the pantry.
“Knock yourself out.”
“I’m heading to the store for my snacks,” Ray announces.
“Pick me up a pack of cigarettes, I’m almost out,” Aunt Purdy orders.
“Cigarettes? She’s the World’s Greatest Auntie. She doesn’t smoke.” Dobby whispers.
“She does now,” Aunt Purdy calls back. “Some beer would be nice too.”
“O …. kay.”
“What did I come in here for? Hell if I know,” Aunt Purdy turns and leaves the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.
“Something isn’t right,” Dobby says.
Faint crying can be heard coming from the attic.
“I don’t think it’s only Mom.”
The door to House’s attic is pulled down. The ladder attached to it extended as light enters from the bedroom below. Heavy steps grow louder as the top and then all of Tinkletoes’ head, neck, shoulders and the rest of his body enter House’s most private domain.
The sound of crying is much louder in the uppermost reaches of the building. The sobbing is accompanied by complaining. “This is just so EUUUUU!!!”
The self-proclaimed mercenary reaches for the pull chain and turns on the light, finding his nose millimeters away from touching a slimy, black goo. Removing an everyday carry light…he turns it on.
“Let’s get a better look around, see what’s going on.”
Stepping over to the area opposite the attic door Tinkletoes stops short of stepping into a thick mess of black goo.
“There’s a whole lot of black slime over here,” he comments. “Everything is completely covered.”
“It’s their nest,” House says between sobs.
“Whatever it is won’t want to stay if their nest is gone. Let’s get it cleaned up.”
“With what?”
“Can’t you use some magic and hose it down?”
“I already tried that,” House says, with a long suffering sigh. “That black slimy goo is a residue that's charged with magic. Ancient magic. My magic doesn’t do anything but move it around. Most of it ended up in one spot.”
“So you ...”
“Built their stupid nest for them.”
“That is gonna make it difficult to send them packing.”
“It’s dark up here, like Faerie's underground. It feels comfortable to them. They get to lounge around in their little nest and do what they do best.”
“What is it they do best?”
“They’re goblins. What do you think they do best? They’re mean.”