The Shadow Plagiarising, Part 12

“Horble?”

“Look, for the last time, I don’t speak your stupid language.”

Chucky was at his wits’ end. After walking around Rhuiden for half an hour being bored, he’d gotten sick of looking at the Aiel trophy collection, and had stepped into the redstone doorway for some answers. Or for some wish-granting, preferably. But these fox-people didn’t seem to have an interpreter like the snake guys had.

“Schlorble.”

“Yes.”

Chucky sighed. The fox-guys on the pedestals leaned forward and looked at the air above his head, and made weird gaspy noises under their breaths.

“Look, just don’t tell me about the Daughter of the Nine Moons.”

“Jorble.”

“Because I don’t want to know.”

“Norble.”

“So don’t tell me.”

“Orble.”

Chucky sighed again, and wandered in a little circle around the shadowy interview room. The fox-guys looked down on him from their pillars. One of them scratched his ear with his foot, examined his toenails carefully, and then nibbled them. This deteriorated into a protracted bout of gonad-licking.

“Look, would it help if I just told you what my wishes are?” Chucky held up his ruined pipes, and ticked things off on his fingers. “I want you to fix the holes in my bagpipes. I want to be back in Rhuidean without being hanged,” he nodded in satisfaction. That last bit had been his own idea, because he knew Mat had been killed – or almost killed – by these guys because he’d asked for the wrong things in the wrong way. He made a final point on his fingers. “And I want to be able to understand what the Ghul you idiots are saying. Think you can manage that? Remember: not hanged. Not.”

The fox-people exchanged a look.

“Done,” the selected spokesfox said. The others grinned widely, tongues hanging out in nasty doggy laughs. Darkness gathered around Chucky, and he felt something smothering him.

Or suffoca-“

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy. https://hatboy.blog/2013/12/17/metalude-who-are-creepy-and-hatboy/
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2 Responses to The Shadow Plagiarising, Part 12

  1. “not harmed in any way” come on man, haven’t you seen enough of this kind of shit? Noob.

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