Bad Things

The Power Trio

A world percolated in front of Sid. He stood back and looked at it.

Small judgments were being made in corners of the world. Things that disagreed rubbed against each other. Things that agreed also rubbed against each other, but in different ways. A couple thousand words for friction popped on the surface.

Thought balloons.

Organisms.

Sid whispered encouragement to the clay place he had imagined. Things grew wings and greenery flourished like growing hair.

There was a knock at the door.

“Telephone, Sid!”

Sid picked up the phone. It was Bryan from down the street, who lived in Bryan’s world.

“What up, fool?”

“Hey Bryan.”

Bryan had been sharpening his sword all morning and wanted to go hunt ogres in the hills.

“Sounds cool,” said Sid. “Let me just polish my magic wand. I’ll meet you at the Citgo.”

And meet they did. From the Citgo, it was a short drive in Bryan’s Volvo out to the trailhead to Big Ogre Gorge.

Big Steve-O just happened to be at the trailhead, too.

“What’s the haps, fools?” said Big Steve-O.

“Ogre huntin’.”

“Awesome.”

Steve-O opened a can of PBR with one swift jab of his house key. The beer shot out into his mouth in a sputtering stream. Sid glanced at a scroll. Bryan, having sufficiently sharpened his sword earlier in the day, now sharpened his fingernails. By the time Steve-O had finished the beer, they were talons.

The Ogres

Nuthuk was thinking. She contemplated the morning horizon.

The world was stirring. The breeze pushed against her skin, giving goose bumps. She smiled as she heard goats bleating in the distance. The breeze picked up to become wind and made the trees speak. Evergreens shook in whispers like rushing water. The ground was wet with dew.

Nuthuk drank from a giant gourd, preserved with a hard lacquer made mostly from honey. The water was sweet and fresh.

Moro came out from under the rocks. Below the rocks was an expansive house. It was kept very clean and had wood floors. Moro had just swept and made breakfast.

“Breakfast is ready. Oatmeal, sausage, and coffee.”

“Yum.” Nuthuk turned to join him and they both returned under the rocks. In the subterranean coolness, they feasted and broke their fast.

The Incident

“Fuckin’ ogre hole!”

“Where?”

“Dude, I see it!” Big Steve-O pointed to the hinges on the side of a boulder.

All three boys made war-whoop noises.

Inside the hole, Nuthuk and Moro looked alarmed.

“Oh, here we go.”

“Dammit.”

Moro slammed the hinged boulder wide open as Big Steve-O stooped over it, pulling and grunting. Big Steve-O flew across the horizon, his scream trailing off as his body went the distance.

The ogres emerged slowly, each some three stories tall.

As they did so, Bryan charged with his sharp sword and talons. He hurled epithets and threats as his sword repeatedly gashed at Moro’s emerging torso. Meanwhile, Sid unleashed a surge of pestilence at Nuthuk. Pox and flies leaked from his wand and swarmed her.

Moro fought back by flinging Bryan after Big Steve-O. Bryan’s screams of rage and protest also faded over the horizon. These were punctuated by a distant thunk.

Alarmed, Sid directed a stream of pestilence at Moro as well. Then he ran.

The ogres coughed under the influence of the pestilence. After the clouds of ill intent had infected their bodies, it entered the underground bungalow and rotted it. The structure collapsed, and the failing bodies of the ogres fell into this ruin.

That Wasn’t Fun

Sid paused in the woods. He considered his wand, his dead friends, the dead ogres, and the ruins. He sat d