horseboykarl

Chilly morning and I’m sitting at the coffee house, enjoying my morning brew and skimming the paper. I don’t subscribe to the piece of shit rag, cause I know how much of it is lies and distortions, but sometimes it’s fun to read.

I’m shocked to see Orlando mentioned in it again . . . spider bite? Fuck, hope he’s okay. And then I remember . . . Thousands of clicking chittering legs and fangs. Spiders.

That fucking bowl. But I shake my head, it’s got to be a coincidence. Fuck, Éomer said some of them got away. Hell, I saw some of them head for the street. They weren’t Shelob size, but Tolkien never used spiders as anything other than agents of evil so odds are they’re pretty poisonous. Is it a coincidence that a man with an Elf-shift gets bitten by one of Tolkien’s nightmares?

I pull out my phone and scroll through my numbers, looking for Viggo’s. The only entry I have says “Vig/Orli” so I don’t know who’s phone it is or if it’s somebody’s house. Probably not answering the phones today anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I punch the number and get voice mail.

“Vig, hey it’s Karl. I just read about Orli. Fuck mate, I’m sorry about that.” I pause, not sure if Viggo knows about the whole bowl ordeal and not wanting to have to explain it on voice mail. “Listen, that bowl spit out some spiders a few months ago, some of them got loose. Paper didn’t say what kind of spider it was, but I’m really hoping it was one of our normal Zid beasties. But if not . . . fuck . . . I’m sorry, I was more concerned with the goblins that day. But if you need anything, ring me. I’ll help you any way I can.”

I hang up, hoping that whatever powers of good there exist in this world will help Orli.