Post by rothome on Aug 16, 2015 12:37:00 GMT
Randy the Rotbrain rested on one knee, struggling to fasten the tie around the "neck" of Mini-Ick, his little golem friend. He spoke to the automaton as if he was his child. "Now, Mini-Ick," he said, "be respectful and such, and don't mention nothin' 'bout fun-bags 'cause that makes ladies sore. Their feelings get sore, I mean, not their fun bags." Mini-Ick warbled affirmatively. "Anyhow, I dunno what golems do on dates - I meant to ask your Uncle Ick and I forgot." He rose to his feet and surveyed his handiwork. The green and paisley tie had been just a copper piece at the market, and Randy couldn't understand why such a pretty thing would be so cheap. He'd fastened it to his little buddy with an absolutely perfect Windsor knot. "Bye, little pal! Have fun!"
Mini-Ick trundled away, deftly maneuvering under the feet of the Sin'dorei that thronged the busy Silvermoon City market. Randy watched the golem leave, the tie trailing behind his back like a cape since Randy had put it on backwards.
"They grow up so fast." Randy sighed. "I wonder if he shoulda brought a corsage..." Then he blinked. He and a troll on the other side of the crowd briefly made eye contact with each other and the latter immediately dropped down and out of sight.
"GRIFTAH!" Randy yelled, his hands balled up and ready to knock the troll out of his boots. He'd paid the swindler a lot of gold to teach him how to become a druid, telling Randy that he could change into a bird by jumping off a big rock and flapping his arms. A talking cow had told him that deaders couldn't become druids, and since Randy knew that a talking cow was a pretty nifty thing, it must have been telling the truth.
Randy waded into the crowd.
Griftah spotted the daft undead because of the bright red headband he wore. He never thought he'd ever see him again, but it was clear that the jig was up. He dropped down, briefly hidden in the crowd, and began tearing through his bag of tricks. He'd never get out of the crowd in time, so he was going to have to improvise.
Randy saw the troll rise again, with his back to him. "GOTCHA, Griftah, you darn cheatin' swindler -" He threw back his left arm to deliver a blow while he spun the troll around with his right hand, but his dessicated first hung in the air. The troll before him looked at him wide-eyed and carefully stroked his outrageously long, slightly crooked handlebar mustache.
"Hallo dere, Mistah Forsaken! Who you be?"
Randy immediately removed his hands from the troll. "Oh golly, mister. I sure am sorry! I saw you from across the way and thought sure as nickels that you were a mean, scammin' ol' troll named Griftah." He gritted his teeth. "I sure do wanna punch that guy right in the nose!"
"Oh ho! No, mon! If Griftah's a troll, then I can't be him."
Randy eyed him suspiciously. "You sure look like a troll."
"No, mon. Ya ever see a troll with a mustache? No such thing."
"Ohhhhh," Randy said. "I didn't know that. I sure am sorry, mister."
The not-troll waved off his apology. "Aww, t'aint nothin' mon. Whatchoo in da elfie city for?"
"Well, I'm here 'cause my other golem pal, Mini-Ick, he's sweet on a gal-golem and he wanted to go out for... whatever it is golems do when they're datin' and I came here and put him in a really spiffy tie and sent him on his way."
"Ah... right, mon. Whatever yoo say. You gotta little friend? Say, I gotta present that your lil' buddy would love." Griftah removed the fake mustache. "See? It clip on under your nose. Da little ones, dey love dis stuff."
"Wait a second," Randy exclaimed. "That's a fake mustache? Then you are Griftah!" Randy got ready to deck the con-man but Griftah cooly responded. "Mon, I just said that trolls don't have mustaches. Of course it be fake!"
"Ohhhh." Randy calmed down again. "That makes sense."
"Now," Griftah smiled, "I'm fresh outta dese and dis be my last one. But, since you such a nice guy, I can letchoo have it for just a few coins..."