Road Trip!
“Okay,” bellowed Khorlax the Florginator, “Everyone in the van!”
“You don’t need to shout,” said Charles tiredly, “There’s only the three of us.”
“Four, countin’ the axe,” Khorlax said proudly. “Florg’s got the whole back seat all to ‘erself.”
Charles shrugged and decided not to press the point. He didn’t want to get into an argument with his fellow goblin; for one thing, Khorlax was a lot bigger than he was. Secondly, there was Florg. Third, he needed the guy. Khorlax needed him, come to that. Someone had to be the brains of the outfit, and it wasn’t Khorlax; it wasn’t Florg either, but Charles wasn’t about to say so.
“Scuse me,” mumbled Lurgis Forks, the third member of their little group, pushing past Charles and clambering into the passenger seat. Charles didn’t like Lurgis very much (not that he particularly liked Khorlax either); Lurgis was a sea-goblin and smelled consistently of seaweed and sewer water. On the other hand, he somehow possessed more treasure to his name than a good many respectable Dwarven families Charles could think of, and he had agreed to fund their expedition, which the Dwarves wouldn’t. So there they were, stuck with him.
Charles plodded around to the other side and climbed into the driver’s side. He’d seen an Elf earlier with a GPS unit; lucky sods. He would have to do with a scrawly old map clutched in one hand. He searched for the mark he’d made earlier that indicated where they were, checked their position against the nearby road signs, and made an estimate, as best he could, where they should go. Fortunately, the interstate was nearby and they wouldn’t have far to drive that day. He stuffed the map into the cupholder next to him and looked around.
“All right,” he said as Khorlax thudded into his place in the middle seat and slammed the door, “We’re all in. Seatbelts on, everyone.”
Both Khorlax and Lurgis laughed, Khorlax in a booming roar and Lurgis in wheezing bursts that left spit droplets all over the dashboard. “What in ‘eck do we need them for?” Khorlax shouted. “Yer the smart driver, if you see a car comin’ towards us, just dodge out their way!”
“Or you could tell Khorlax to smash it with the axe!” Lurgis wheezed.
“Hey!,” Khorlax said, “Don’t make fun of Florg.”
Charles sighed and wondered why he was doing all this in the first place. Did he really need a ruby the size of a canary melon?
Then, as he usually did when he found himself asking these questions, he brought again to his mind all the wonderful and interesting things he could do with a third share of the profits from the sale of a ruby the size of a canary melon. As usual that settled the argument with himself, or at least pushed it out of mind so he didn’t have to think about it again for a long while. Instead Charles took a breath, buckled himself in, threw the van into gear, and drove out onto the interstate as Khorlax the Florginator started up a drinking song and Lurgis Forks began whining at him to stop as it was making his head hurt. It was going to be a long drive.
Note: credit for the names of the goblins in this story go to , inspired by a post by . and a response by , the thread of which is posted below. Why all this came together in my mind and produced three goblins on a road trip, I don’t know. The imagination is funny that way.
I love that you've made use of all the names. Brilliant 😂
This is everything i hoped it would be and more, well done 😂😂😂