Welcome to the Great Goblin Road Trip, in which traveling goblins Lurgis Forks, Khorlax the Florginator, and Charles are on the road in search of a canary the size of a ruby melon. When we last saw them, our heroes main characters had just stopped for the night in a hotel, the Hummingbird Haven. We rejoin them as morning dawns. Well, morning -ish…
The thing about goblins is, when they sleep, they sleep hard. Charles, being the most responsible of the three, had set his alarm and even requested a wake-up call. What he didn’t know was that Khorlax the Florginator had gone down behind him and threatened the human desk clerk with all manner of violent death and dismemberment if she dared wake him, Khorlax, before he damn well pleased. Naturally she didn’t dare try waking up any of them at all, fearing that she might accidentally disturb the wrong one.
Meanwhile, Lurgis Forks didn’t bother about an alarm because he assumed Charles would do it. What he didn’t know was that Charles had been kept up to an ungodly hour by Lurgis’ snoring. If one has never had the unfortunate experience of listening to a goblin snore, one simply has to imagine the sound of a rock giant with an upset stomach visiting the restroom and, after finishing its business, giving the toilet a mighty flush, and then deciding to send in a jackhammer after it to undo anything that might have clogged up. It was loud, and rumbly, and snarly, and it upset Charles in a very visceral way. When he finally did get to sleep, he was so upset that he slept right through the alarm, which after a few rounds of beeping gave up on him and turned itself off.
What all of this meant was that when the three goblins finally came staggering downstairs expecting to have breakfast and coffee and then check out, they were to a goblin dismayed to find no breakfast, no coffee, and worst of all that they were now obliged to pay for another night. Lurgis Forks was especially upset about that. “What do you mean, another night? We’re not staying here a second time!”
“I’m sorry,” the human desk clerk explained, eyeing Khorlax nervously. “Hotel policy states that checkout time is at 11 A.M., and as you can see, well…”
“I c’n see the bloody clock,” Khorlax growled, “and yeah, maybe you say it’s past your checkout time, but Florg here says it isn’t.” He swung his beloved axe around and thumped it down in front of him, very nearly striking the desk. “What’d you say to that? Mind you, Florg don’t like bein’ contradicted.”
The desk clerk froze, emitting a small squeak of fright. Charles sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but we overslept, and it’s not my fault, but anyway, could you make an exception this one time? We didn’t leave the room in a mess I promise, and I really am sorry about the trouble.”
He wasn’t lying about the room being a mess, but only because he had taken the trouble to scrabble about and clean it up while Khorlax and Lurgis had laughed at him.
The desk clerk squeaked again, and might’ve agreed, but then the manager emerged. He was very tall, so that his black hair almost brushed against the light fixtures against the ceiling, and he had to duck coming out of his office. Charles had a funny feeling when he saw him: the man had a decided air of solidity. “Hi,” the man said, “Name’s Bernard. There a problem here?”
The desk clerk explained the situation, although Lurgis Forks interrupted several times to object that they hadn’t been told or properly notified and they shouldn’t have to pay anything at all really because the bed had been horribly lumpy and not what they’d been guaranteed at all. Bernard took everything in quietly, including Khorlax and his axe. Then he folded his arms, looked Khorlax right in the eye, and said, “Yeah, she’s right, that’s the policy.”
Lurgis felt a cold shiver run down his back. He wasn’t the fighter, Khorlax was, and something about this bothered him suddenly. “Actually, on second thought, we’ll be happy to pay for the extra night, and everything,” the sea goblin said, coughing and reaching into his pockets.
“What’d you mean, we?” Khorlax roared. “I’m not payin’-”
“Yeah,” Bernard cut in, “You are.”
Even Florg the axe looked as if it were surprised by that. Khorlax was positively outraged. “Hey!” he bellowed. “You can’t do that! I’m Khorlax the-”
“Yeah, Khorlax the Florginator, son of Ghorlax the Snarkalor, son of Wharlax the Flog, I know, I know,” Bernard said. “I read some in my off hours, when I’m not managing this place. You I’ve heard of. You other two I haven’t, don’t really care to. Here’s the thing. You’re still paying for the extra night.” There was the slightest hint of an edge in his voice.
Charles and Lurgis Forks held their breaths. Khorlax and Bernard looked at each other. The goblin was not, under normal circumstances, the sort of goblin to be unnerved by a human. This one, however, had something in his eyes that Khorlax did not like. Worse, it was something he didn’t understand.
“Ah, Lurgy, pay him and let’s go!” Khorlax roared at last, wheeling about and storming out of the hotel, taking Florg with him. Lurgis hurriedly paid Bernard and scurried after him, and Charles followed, after whispering a last quick apology to Bernard and the desk clerk. Within seconds they had piled into the van and were tearing out onto the interstate again.
“I appreciate it, sir, I really do, I’m just glad they’re gone,” said the desk clerk in profound relief.
“Mm,” said Bernard. “Yeah. Got half a mind to go after ‘em.”
The next day, he did.
This story inspired by Scoot’s prompt: write about being late.
BARNARD, HOTEL MANAGER AND GOBLIN HUNTER?!?!!!
The manager is a sword and sorcery fan.