Roger tossed back
a trio of ibuprofen and gulped the glass of tap water, then closed his eyes and
groaned as he pressed palms against his eyelids. He tapped his phone’s voice
control. “Call Banes at work…
“Joe, I’m not
gonna make it in today. My head is trying to explode. Yeah, I’ve never had a
migraine, but it feels like what people describe. Okay, thanks, man. Yeah, I’ll
check on email after I get a few more hours’ sleep. Thanks. Bye.”
Bed? Or couch?
Couch was closer. Roger fell asleep with a pillow shielding his eyes from the
morning sun.
He jerked awake
to a series of pops and soft scuffling noises. Was someone in his apartment? He
lay still on the couch and listened closely, but didn’t hear anything more.
Slowly ducking his head from under the pillow, he pried his eyes open and
looked around the living room and into the kitchen. No sign of movement.
Sitting slowly,
he considered his aching head. The ibuprofen must have kicked in, because the
pain had receded to a memory. He reached over the arm of the couch and picked
up his grandfather’s bat, signed by Jimmie Foxx and handed down as a great
family heirloom. Hefting the bat, he stood quietly and walked across the room
to the hall leading to the bathroom and two bedrooms.
As he neared the bathroom
door, he heard another muffled sound. A metallic clank and a thud, maybe a smack
on skin? Roger inhaled and squared his shoulders, then pushed the door open.
The bat dropped in his suddenly nerveless fingers, and he snatched it before it
fell. A green, wart-covered giant—a troll?—crowded next to a—a—a gnome? The
short guy wore a blue tunic, and honest-to-god, a red cap exactly like the
garden gnome in those goofy travel commercials a few years ago.
They stared at
him with equally shocked expressions. The—troll—smacked the gnome on the back. “I
told you I heard something,” he grumbled in a voice that sounded like rocks
tumbling.
The gnome looked
Roger up and down. With raised eyebrows, he asked, “You got plans for that bat,
there? Cause he,” gesturing to his companion, “doesn’t like being threatened.”
The bat clattered
to the floor.
“Crap!” The gnome
snapped. “The old lady in 16E will hear that for sure!”
|
Dogs
in house:
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Houdini
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Music
|
Pippin soundtrack
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|
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Time
writing
|
About 35 minutes
|
|
|
|
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July
word count
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395
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