“This one’s a snapper!” Big Joe hollered.
Indeed, the specimen presented, with his pale, ungainly skin, was chattering away. He’d gnawed through his lips, and the white teeth snapped and snapped and snapped as he pressed his face into the bars crossing the open hatch in the door.
“Feisty one.”
“I see,” I nodded. “And, what good is he to me, though?”
“You wanted to set a guard about your castle? Well, you don’t want languid zombies, now? You want some with some fight in them. This ghoul here will kill anyone who wanders into your forest, and,” his voice grew hushed as he dropped into the confidential whisper of a salesman, “he’ll leave the gnawed bones around. That there will scare off most before they even get close. Free advertising!” his voice suddenly boomed as he slapped my shoulder.
“Well, yes, but, if I ever want to have guests, I’ll have to chain him up. Listen, I just want some zombies that will thin the herd, you know? Like, I expect one or two adventurers to come rescue their beloved. That’s part of the game, but I had girl-scouts at my door last month.”
“Girl scouts!”
“Girl scouts. Tasted fine with milk, but really, I have a big scary, ruined castle, I’ve got the permits to have the lightning strike the tower at least three times a day, there was a whole graveyard they had to walk through, and they tried to sell me cookies.”
“I see,” said Big Joe. “You’re the fashionable type, traditional. You don’t go in for the gore,” he said, slamming the hatch shut on the snapper. “Of course, I’m the same way. But you know, modern tastes. What you want,” he continued, “is something with class? Well, they’re not in demand much, but I have an undead butler and coachman. They were part of a big family curse, you see, got all the servants and the whole countryside trapped in the limbo of undeath until the Marquis made amends for some slight or other. When the curse was finally lifted, these two were still hanging around, and a few others. Apparently, they got a heads up about where their souls would be heading if they were released from this mortal coil and decided they’d stick around for the time being. I have to warn you, though,” he sighed, “they’re terribly dishonest.”
“Dishonest?”
“Nothing really to worry about, but you see, I’d count my spoons if you let them inside the house.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding.
“Really,” he went on, “they’re too craven to be any real threat, but give them an inch!”
“Well, would they make good spooks? That’s what I need. Scare off the flightier heroes who are usually too fatty or gamy for me anyway.”
“I think they could, if motivated, but you’d have to take a firm hand.”
“Excellent. Shall we see them?”
“Of course, right this way. I have, in the same manner, a few murdered children, specters, you know, who you can only see in the corner of your eye. If you’re going for a more artsy style, they have lovely voices. Actually formed a choir. Great for that eerie vibe of the more thoughtful horror. They do come at a premium. You’ll have to take the whole lot, you know?”
“Sure,” I nod. “I’ll see them. Can they be trained to call for help and then lead people off of the main road?”
“Can they be trained?” laughed Big Joe. “They know that trick and a hundred others.”
“Good, good.”
Related:
A Note: I’m feeling sick. Actually, feeling pretty bad. But, I’m so happy about the release of the hostages. Right now, though, I’m too physically miserable to do much of anything. Here’s something I wrote that has nothing to do with today’s wonderful news. Praise God for the little things, like a turn of a head; The Kingdom of Heaven is like leaven.
Tale Told 