Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin)

by John P. Logsdon

  Gappy was stepping from foot to foot, trying to keep his own tears from falling.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, finally. “It’s nice to have at least one person in this town who believes that what I’m doing is the right thing.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe I said that, son,” Mr. Cloogate said strongly. “In fact, I think you’re making a serious step into a bad situation. I’m merely voicing that your parents—may The Twelve put them in Tinkerer’s Paradise—would understand and be proud.”

  “I see,” Gappy said with a heavy sigh.

  Mr. Cloogate looked up and studied the house for a moment. There was an instant shift in his demeanor. It was as though he moved from the role of an understanding father-figure to the position of someone who wanted a sweet deal. He said, “hmmm” a few times while scratching at his bare chin. He even squinted at a couple of the knots that surfaced on the siding around the dark red house.

  “As for this house of yours,” he said after a time while waving at the crowd of would-be purchasers, “what say we just cut out all of these vultures and make a deal that’s beneficial to us both?”

  Gappy’s eyes widened. “Really?” he said a little too quickly, but recovered with, “I mean, sure, we can discuss it. What would you have in mind?”

  “I’m just thinking that maybe it’s time for me to settle on a property for once. I’m getting into my seventies now and while I still have many years to go—Twelve allowing—I feel that it’s time for some stability. Besides, I’ve always loved this property.”

  “That sounds like a wise decision, sir,” Gappy said supportively.

  “As you know, Gappy, my house is one that travels by wheely engine.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s a tiny house.”

  “Precisely,” Mr. Cloogate said as he tapped on another knot on the siding. “What say we do a straight up swap? I give you my tiny house and the wheely engine and you sign over your home here, including all of its property, of course.”

  Gappy had seen his father play the negotiation game before, so he knew that Mr. Cloogate was trying to pull together a deal that mostly benefited him. Gappy had learned that the best deals were win-win, but that was only for folks who were interested in all parties being happy. Mr. Cloogate was a nice Gnome, to be certain, but everyone knew he was a miser who held his money very tightly. Gappy even recalled once hearing his mother say that if Mr. Cloogate had inadvertently swallowed a piece of coal, it would come out the other side as a diamond.

  “It’s a kind offer, Mr. Cloogate,” Gappy said, carefully choosing his words, “but I feel as though I would be receiving the short end of that deal. Don’t get me wrong, sir, I find your tiny house to be quite the perfect fit for my current plans, but my property is easily worth five-times its value, including your wheely engine.”

  “I know that,” Mr. Cloogate said as if he’d been slapped, “but you’d also get my property.”

  “But, sir, don’t you rent a piece of land from Mr. Preding?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You can’t trade me a piece of Mr. Preding’s land, sir. That’s not binding.”

  “No, no, no,” Mr. Cloogate said as if he were shooing away a fly, “I’m talking about the property that’s under the house at any given time.”

  Gappy nodded for a moment and then scrunched up his face. “How’s that again?”

  “You know,” Mr. Cloogate said matter-of-factly, “the land that’s under the house and wheely engine as you’re moseying on down the road.”

  “So you’re saying that I can have the piece of land that’s under me as I drive?”

  “That’s the right of it.”

  “I don’t think it works that way, sir,” said Gappy. “Property is not owned by someone simply because they happen to be over it. For example, the land you’re standing on right now is still mine, you’re just occupying a small piece of it.”

  “Industrious indeed,” Mr. Cloogate said with pursed lips. “Well, I’ve not got the five-times amount you’re looking for, young Gappy, but I’ve an idea that may suffice.” He pulled his backpack off and reached inside, pulling forth a few books. “What I have here are a few ancient engineering tomes, including the famous Spinbolt Schematics.”

  Gappy’s pulse raced as he looked over the books that Mr. Cloogate had brought out.

  “I already have a copy of The Spinbolt Schematics, sir, but some of these look pretty interesting.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you already have The Spinbolt Schematics. Who doesn’t? But this one is different, Gappy. This one is signed.”

  Mr. Cloogate reverently handed the book over to Gappy. Signed? That was unfathomable. This was a genuine treasure.

  “This is amazing, sir,” Gappy said in hushed tones as he cracked open the book and looked at the text handwritten on the first page. “Hey, wait a second. This is your signature.”

  “What’s that?” asked Mr. Cloogate innocently.

  “This signature says, ‘To me, with love, Tinkheimer Cloogate.’ You signed this book yourself.”

  “People do that,” Mr. Cloogate replied defensively.

  “They do?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I guess because only the author of the book should actually sign the book,” Gappy explained.

  “To each his own, I suppose.”

  “Right. Well, I’m sorry, sir, but having your signature on Boltby Gizmogadget’s book won’t command very much money on the open market, I’m afraid, and I have to keep the option open should it come to that.”

  “Oh, fine,” Mr. Cloogate said as he again shoved his hand into his pack. He pulled out another copy of The Spinbolt Schematics. This one looked much dustier than the other. “I’ll give you the actual signed copy, but only because I’m an honorable Gnome.”

  Gappy gingerly cracked open the book and noted that it was indeed signed by Mr. Gizmogadget himself. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” replied Mr. Cloogate, seemingly miffed. “You know that my name is pretty well respected in the Gnome community, I hope? My signature is certainly worth something to someone!”

  “You, apparently,” Gappy said under his breath, unable to pull his eyes away from the signature of the most respected Gnome engineer in history.

  “What was that?” questioned Mr. Cloogate with a squint.

  “Hmmm?” Gappy replied, looking up. “Oh, nothing, sir! I was just … this is incredible is all.”

  Mr. Cloogate grunted. “Do we have a deal or not?”

  “I just have to do the numbers, sir. Doing this trade will leave me pretty tight on cash.”

  “Fine, I’ll also add ten thousand dollars to the trade, but that’s my final offer.”

  Gappy blinked a few times at that. He then stepped away from the side of the house and gazed out at the sea of would-be purchasers. He was certain that he could land a stronger deal than what Mr. Cloogate was offering, probably even enough to buy his own tiny house and wheely engine. But the fact was that he didn’t much like anyone in his little town, at least not those past the Age of Tinkering, and none of them had a signed copy of The Spinbolt Schematics to offer. Besides, Mr. Cloogate was the only Gnome who hadn’t directly called him out on going his own way. The man hadn’t approved, no, but he didn’t try to stop him either.

  “Mr. Cloogate,” he said as he walked back, “I think you have a nice offer, here, and I do appreciate it, but may I have a couple of hours to think it through?”

  “I’ll add twenty thousand. Final offer.”

  Gappy suddenly felt the urge to negotiate. He could not explain where the feeling came from, but the moment he’d heard Mr. Cloogate put $20,000 on the table, his haggling mind switched on.

  “Make it thirty thousand and we have a deal,” Gappy said strongly.

  “Done,” said Mr. Cloogate, reaching his hand out for the ceremonial shake that was as ironclad in Hubintegler as a written contract was in the land of the Orcs. “Just so you know,” he added sm
ugly, “I would have gone to thirty-five thousand.”

  “Just so you know,” Gappy replied, “I probably would have taken ten thousand.”

  “Industrious indeed,” Mr. Cloogate stated in a raspy voice.

  LEAVING TOWN

  It had taken a while for Mr. Cloogate to teach Gappy everything he needed to know about the wheely engine and the tiny house.

  The house was drab, making it clear that Mr. Cloogate was not gifted with a discernible eye for decoration. The outside was painted a flat beige color with the shutters offsetting in a light brown. The shingles were black and the little chimney that sat off the back edge was the standard brown brick. It wasn’t ugly or anything, but Gappy planned to add some reds, blues, and greens at his first opportunity. The inside wasn’t much different, decoratively speaking, but once Mr. Cloogate had removed the majority of his belongings, Gappy could see promise in the place. Even though it was considered “tiny” by the standards of non-Gnomes, it was pretty sizable for actual Gnomes.

  Most of the holdup came from the fact that there was an oil leak in the wheely engine. While Mr. Cloogate was obviously well-versed at being a mechanic, it seemed that he had a tendency to neglect his own machinery. Gappy considered this exciting, being that he’d always wanted to learn the ins and outs of becoming a wheely engine mechanic. One thing was for certain, Gappy was going to update the color of the vehicle at the same time he redid the house. Visions of racing stripes and flames began to fill his head.

  By the time they had gotten everything squared away and Gappy had packed up his belongings, the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon. His first thought was to stay until morning, but he was too antsy. His life was waiting for him down the road and he had already delayed it enough.

  “Now you make sure you check that oil at least twice a day,” commanded Mr. Cloogate. “I’ll not have you coming back and yelling at me, if you don’t.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, sir.”

  “Good.” Mr. Cloogate seemed to be uncomfortable. “You have a jacket and such? Don’t want you to catch cold.”

  “I do. Everything is packed in the house. It’s been pretty warm, but if it gets to be too much, I’ll just pull over and take a rest until morning.”

  “Smart thinking. Do you have enough food?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gappy said, holding up a bag.

  “Can I have some?” said Mr. Cloogate. “I’ve not eaten all day.”

  Gappy grimaced, but reached into his bag and handed one of the meat sandwiches over to the older Gnome.

  “What, no crackers?” Mr. Cloogate said seriously.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Bah.” He took a bite and started to chew. “Well, where are you heading off to anyway?”

  “I looked on the UnderNet and found a nice place to the southwest of here,” Gappy said, showing his GnomePad to Mr. Cloogate. “It’s called Planoontik.”

  “Ah, yeah, that’s the renaissance town. Not many Gnomes there.”

  “According to Gnomepedia, it’s a hodgepodge of many races, sir, all working together in a world of diversified knowledge and creativity.”

  “Yeah?” Mr. Cloogate said dubiously. “Seems to me you should pick up a crossbow. Cities like that ain’t the kind of place where a simple pebble gun or a paint-pellet pistol will do you much good.” He took another bite. “Can’t be too careful around other kinds, you know.”

  Gappy wanted to argue with him, but he saw little point. People like Mr. Cloogate tended to be stuck in their ways. It wasn’t completely their fault. The ideas that they held were ingrained in them during their youth. Fortunately, Gappy’s parents had been open-minded and encouraged Gappy to study up and meet new people with different values and cultural norms.

  “Well, I should probably be going now, sir. It’ll be getting dark soon and I’d like to have a decent headstart in the hopes that I can get there by morning.”

  “Fine, fine,” Mr. Cloogate said uncomfortably. “If you have the inkling to write, you know my postal address.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good luck to you, young Gappy. You’ve got a future ahead of you. Probably not a very long one, but one nonetheless.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cloogate,” Gappy replied.

  “Sure you’ve got no crackers in there?” Mr. Cloogate said with another hopeful peek at the bag of food.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Kids these days.”

  THE PUPPY

  It had taken Gappy a little time to get used to the feel of driving. His parents had never owned a wheely engine. They felt that it was better for the body to walk wherever one needed to go. Fortunately, their house had only been a few blocks from town so walking wasn’t too much of a trial.

  His first couple of tries at lifting the clutch pedal had caused the vehicle to lurch and stall. To his credit, Mr. Cloogate had remained patient while helping Gappy to get going. After a handful of attempts, the gear slipped in place and Gappy was humming down the road.

  He’d first feared not being able to drive at all, but he found that it wasn’t much different than the games he had played on the GnomeBox that his parents had awarded him on his twentieth birthday. His favorite game, Gnome Racer, had a big-rig option that had a similar feel to his current real-life situation.

  The wind striking his face was magical indeed, but he understood the importance of paying attention to what he was doing, especially since he was hauling a lot of weight behind him. One wrong move and the entirety of his meager fortune could end up in a ditch.

  Unfortunately, there was no radio or even a GD (GnomeDisc) player. Once again, Mr. Cloogate’s frugality had struck. Since there was nothing to entertain him, he took to singing a factory song that he’d heard his father sing on many a long day in the shop.

  We turn the wrench, we turn the bolts

  We touch the wires, we feel the jolts

  Our goggles cover up our eyes

  Our trinkets delight and do surprise

  Tinkerers, Tinkerers

  We’re Gnomes through and through

  Tinkerers, Oh Tinkerers

  Designs and blueprints ring us true

  Dum-dee-da-da-dum-dee-dah!

  We work all day, we work all night

  We don’t complain, we do not gripe

  Our fingers work the tiny wires

  Our metals forged in raging fires

  Tinkerers, Tinkerers

  We’re Gnomes through and through

  Tinkerers, Oh Tinkerers

  Designs and blueprints ring us true

  Dum-dee-da-da-dum-dee-dah!

  Now when we…whoa!

  A little puppy darted out in front of him, causing Gappy to slam on the brakes and veer off into a grassy area that was thankfully level.

  Once he’d come to a stop, he shut off the engine and jumped out and ran up to the road he’d just been on. His heart was racing, thinking that he may have injured the poor thing … or worse.

  It sat there in the middle of the road, scratching its ear as if nothing at all had happened. To say that the dog was small was understating the fact. It was tiny. Put it this way, Gappy reached down and picked it up as if he were picking up a Gnome handbag.

  “You seem to be okay,” Gappy said to the puppy as it licked his cheek. “Oh, now, you stop that.” Gappy giggled as he checked the dog over to make sure everything was in order. Its fur was dark gray through and through and it had brown eyes and pointed ears. There was no collar, though, so he wasn’t sure what to do with the little thing. “It seems you may be lost. I don’t see any houses around here. Honestly, I’m surprised that you have made it this far.”

  That’s when a massive head popped over the lip of the road on the other side. It was an Ogre. Gappy gulped.

  “Hey der,” the Ogre said in a friendly voice. “You found my puppy. I were looking for him.”

  “He ran out into the road here.”

  “Dat’s not good. I will have ter teach him not to do da
t.” The Ogre stepped up and very gently took the puppy away and lifted it up to his face, trying to sound disciplinary, yet caring. “Yer not supposed to get in da roads, puppy. Yer could get strucked by a car thing.” The puppy licked his nose. “Hehe … stop dat. I are being serious here.”

  “Neb gernan oon?”

  Gappy looked to see another person coming up the side of the hill. He was short, for a Human, and he wore a red robe that matched his red, pointy beard.

  “Nuffin,” answered the Ogre. “Der puppy just run into the road is all. Dis guy found him.”

  “Selly poopy,” the Human said. “Gerna gud etsef kooled.”

  “I already told him dat it were wrong. He know now.”

  “Hooer yar?” the Human said with a tilt of his head as he looked at Gappy.

  “He asking who you is,” the Ogre explained.

  “My name is Gappy Whirligig, sir. I was just driving down the road when the puppy ran out.”

  “Deet yer hoose?”

  “He asking if dat are yer house over der.”

  “Yes, sir. When I swerved to miss the dog, I ended up in the grass.” He glanced back. “I’m sorry, do you live around here?”

  “No, we’s traveling fer work stuff. I are Kone and dis is the Great Wizard Redler.”

  “Bah! Noot grat, jus purdy gud,” Redler said.

  “Him humble,” Kone said and then he held up the puppy. “Dis is Pooper. We calls him dat because he poops a lot.”

  “I assumed so, yes,” Gappy said with a smile. “Have you considered using a leash?”

  “Or woot?”

  “A leash,” Gappy answered, catching what Redler had asked. “It’s basically just a strong string that connects to a collar so that the puppy doesn’t get too far away from you.”

  “Weddle ye doh ef et roons?”