Exit, Pursued
Exit, Pursued
The Great Goblin Road Trip
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 checked out of a hotel and were continuing on down the road…
They had gotten off to a late start that day due to oversleeping, and they were all worried that they’d fallen behind in their search for the ruby the size of a canary melon. Khorlax the Florginator wouldn’t admit he was worried, of course, and neither would Lurgis Forks, but both goblins grumbled more so than usual as Charles drove down the long highway westwards. They grumbled about the air conditioning, the windows, the rest stop, the price of fuel, the price of snacks, the sky, the sun, the weather, the heat, and somehow Charles managed to put up with it all.
It was when Lurgis Forks began making snide insinuations about his driving skills and whether he might have inherited them from a human ancestor that Charles finally lost it. “Fine,” he shouted, “You want to drive? Then drive!” With that, he pulled over, slammed open his door, and stormed out of the car.
“Think y’ made him mad,” Khorlax the Florginator observed.
“Oh, really, do you think so?” Lurgis Forks shot back.
“Yeah, and so does Florg,” Khorlax said, taking the question literally. “Now, I ain’t driving, and Florg sure ain’t driving.” He patted his battle-axe fondly. “So it’s down to you, and-”
“And I don’t know where the ruby is, I know,” Lurgis hissed in frustration. “Fine. I’ll go apologize to Charles, you wait here.”
“Nah,” Khorlax said. “Just spotted a bar over there, little ways down the road. Think I’ll wander over there, get a drink for myself and Florg here.”
“Fine,” said Lurgis and stalked off after Charles.
Khorlax shrugged and went off to the bar. The name was in Elven script, and he muttered the word to himself. “Silmarilly’s,” he said, “Huh. Sounds like a silly name. Well, so long as they’re open!”
The goblin barged in, axe and all, plonked himself down in the first open seat he saw, and roared for service. An Elven waitress approached him in fear and trembling and said something in flowing syllables. “I don’t speak pointy-ears,” Khorlax growled.
She took a breath and repeated her quest, slower and a touch louder. “We request you leave axe outside. Not allowed. Not…” she hesitated, searching for the appropriate word to convey the precise degree to which Khorlax’s behavior had shocked and dismayed herself and the other customers of a normally peaceful and comfortable place like Silmarilly’s.
“What’d you mean not allowed?” the goblin said, rising and lifting up the axe. “Where I go, Florg goes!”
A sudden thud resounded from behind him. “Then go,” a deep voice boomed.
Khorlax turned. It was Bernard, the manager of the hotel they’d stayed at the night before. Except suddenly Bernard was taller, and bigger, and he had claws, and-
Lurgis having reluctantly apologized to Charles, they were making their way back to the car when they heard the roar. “What in the world-” Charles said.
The other goblin didn’t have time to say anything, for suddenly Florg came flying through the air and landed blade first in the ground. Khorlax came hurtling after it, very nearly landing right on top of it. He scrambled to his feet, gasping out one word. “Bear!”
“What?” said Charles again. Then he looked at Silmarilly’s and saw the largest bear he had ever seen tearing up the ground towards him. He shrieked incoherently and nearly ripped the car door off its hinges climbing inside. Lurgis Forks whipped open the side door and leaped in himself, with Khorlax barreling in after him, having paused only the second it took to wrench Florg from the ground. Charles hit the gas and they sped away.
It was a full hour before they stopped again, and then only to pull over long enough to sort themselves into their proper seats, get buckled, and refuel before taking off yet again. They didn’t stop driving until that night. No one said a word about the bear then or ever afterwards, and they all slept uneasily that night, Khorlax in particular. Even then, his dreams were filled with disturbed rumbles, and he kept one hand constantly on Florg.
This story inspired by the below prompt from Scoot, which was to write about waitstaff:
