Monday, October 1, 2012

My Little Hobgoblin

I don't know when it happened. I would like to start with a dark and stormy night, the wind howling in my ear, as if to warn me of the impending doom. But the truth of the matter is that it just happened. One day, I was a master of my realm, the world spread out before me as kingdoms for the conquering. I traveled the breadth of the realm, had many adventures, smote down many a terrible beast. And then there it was; a small, pathetic creature cast down by so many others, not worthy to be recognized. And yet I could not bring myself to cast it aside. It must have been no more than five years, and it sat upon its stony perch with a toothy smile. Even when it smiled, it let out a low pitiful whine, having been abandoned by its own father at such a young age. Perhaps it was the baleful eyes, the slight whimpering when I drew near, but I wrapped the small hobgoblin in my coat and carried it away with me. Her ears switched, her face was marred and smiled that toothy smile and whined... and then she fucking bit me.

I sneaked her into my home in the dead of night. Feeding her and attempting to bond with creature. My wife took to her like any mother to an abandoned child; I found myself scolded for not providing for my little Turdlewhine. Hobgoblins are normally a nasty, dirty species, abhorrent to water. Turdlewhine was no different, she hated bathing and fought against it tooth and nail. Her cunning was readily apparent, pretending to bath by wetting her greasy hair and ignoring the earthen filth she had managed to attract. Getting her to brush her teeth was no easy task either. She had, what I call shingletooth, where one tooth overlapped another in a row. Only her tusks straight and all of teeth were coated with visible yellow film that I had an urge to scratch off. That is, if I knew it wouldn't get me deathly ill. Hobgoblins have a hearty kind of constitution that allowed them to eat anything off the ground without fear of getting ill. I tried to teach her that it wasn't proper to eat of the ground and would slap things out of her hand. Turdlewhine would kick the shit out of my ankle, or bite me behind the thigh until I cursed so loud, we had to leave for fear of the authorities hunting us down.

And thus began my downward spiral into the hobgoblin world. Some say there is still hope for me, but I have searched on-line, I have texted my friends and family, I have sought wizened sages that have traveled before me, and they have all told me the same answer...

 Never, ever let a fucking hobgoblin into your life.

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