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

by John P. Logsdon

“Honestly?”

  “That’s the deal,” Suzie answered with a smile. “There are a few stipulations, of course.”

  “Always are,” Gappy said. “What are they?”

  Suzie cleared her throat and looked down at the document from HTTV headquarters. “You have to be willing to look at three different barns, even if you find the one you want on the first shot.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “You have to act like I’m crazy for showing you the one that is obviously way out of your budget.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “So far, so good,” Suzie said with a wink. “Finally, you have to have a friend along who will act like they know more about what you want than you do.”

  The wind fell out of Gappy’s sails.

  “I don’t have any friends, Ms. Tippylynn,” he said softly. “I’m new in town, remember?”

  “Not to worry,” she said pointing out the window. “Right across the street there is Planoontiks’ own Rent-A-Friend service.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said, standing up in his chair.

  “Dead serious. It’s one of the town’s longest running businesses.”

  “That’s odd, but also incredibly convenient.” Gappy sat back down. “So I just rent a friend for a day?”

  “Might be more than a day, but HTTV usually tries to finalize things within one day, if possible.”

  “Great. Should I come back tomorrow or …”

  “Oh, no, the camera crew and director will be here before noon. As the producer of the show just told me on the phone, they’re planning to launch at least a portion of the show tonight, if not the entire show.”

  “That fast?” Gappy said, shocked.

  “You know how big business is, Mr. Whirligig. They don’t wait around for anything.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Now,” Suzie said, pushing herself up and heading to the door, “why don’t you run over to Rent-A-Friend and find someone who suits your tastes before the camera crew arrives?”

  THE HALFIA

  Huido and two of his henchmen, Fingernails and Grumbles, walked down the main street like they owned it. In a way, they kind of did. They were the town Halfia—the name adopted by the Halfling Mafia—and that meant that when they went out, people showed them the proper respect. If they didn’t, they suffered the consequences, which often came in the form of having one’s knees pummeled. It was one of the few pieces of anatomy that Halflings could easily reach, after all.

  Today, though, they weren’t just out for a casual stroll. No, today they had business in mind. Today they were going to start upping their rates.

  Fingernails pulled open the door to Hegby’s Hairdos and Huido stepped inside. He caught the look of dread on the shop owner’s face instantly. That made him proud.

  “Mr. Huido?”

  “I told ya before, Hegby, it’s just Huido,” Huido said, taking a seat. “There ain’t no ‘mister’ in front of it.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Hegby said with a bow while moving to put his knees behind one of the chairs. “Are you here for a haircut today?”

  “Nah. We’s here to pick up a new payment.”

  “A new payment?” Hegby said as his eyes darted about, finally coming to settle on the calendar that he had hanging on his wall. “It’s only the 15th. We’re supposed to pay at the beginning of the month.”

  “Yeah, here’s the thing about that paying the beginning of the month gig,” Huido said, pulling out a half-smoked cigar and lighting it up, “we’re gonna want money then, too.”

  “What?” Hegby said with a shriek.

  “You heard me right,” Huido said casually. “We’s been cookin’ the books and it looks like we need to have more cash for our standard protection plan.”

  “But it’s already twenty-five percent of my income,” Hegby claimed.

  Huido tapped ashes onto the floor. “Don’t seem fair, does it?”

  “Honestly, no,” answered Hegby.

  “See?” Huido said, looking back at his henchmen, “that’s what we was thinking, too. We provide you with all of this top-of-the-line protection and you only pay us twenty-five percent of your income. That ain’t right at all. It’s like we’s gettin’ the short end of the stick.”

  Hegby ran his hand across the top of his shiny head. “I can’t afford to pay any more, Mr. Huido. I just can’t.”

  “It’s just Huido,” Huido amended. “Look, I know times is tough, and maybe I’m off my rocker, but I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do: I’m gonna just bump it up to thirty percent so as to be fair and all.”

  “But …”

  “Nah,” Huido said while waving his hand at the barber, “there ain’t no need to thank me. You’ve been a decent customer for a long time, so you deserve a break, yeah?”

  “That will bankrupt me.”

  “You’re being dramatic, pal,” Huido said, flicking more ash on the ground. “It might be tight for a little while, but you’ll figure things out. Better to have a couple extra coins missing than a couple of busted kneecaps. Am I right?”

  “I’m starting to wonder, truth be told,” Hegby replied with a sigh.

  “Is that right, wise guy?”

  “I meant no disrespect, Mr. Huido,” Hegby said hastily. “I just don’t know how I’m going to work this out.”

  Huido shrugged and looked around the place. “Why don’t you just sell combs or something?”

  “Sell combs?” Hegby chewed on the inside of his lip. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “Well, you should think about it,” Huido said. “People look good when they come out of this joint, yeah? But the next day their hair is nothing but a wreck again. If you sold them combs then they’d look good all the time. That’s like having a month of marketing from a single haircut, pal.”

  “It’s a novel idea, actually,” Hegby said enthusiastically.

  “Good, now back to the money. You got five days to get the cash together, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Still,” Huido said, motioning Fingernails and Grumbles forward, “I gotta send a message to everyone else, so I’m going to have my guys here shave your arms.”

  Hegby grimaced and shook his head. “Sorry, did you say they’re going to shave my arms?”

  “I know how much you Humans hate having bare arms.”

  “We do?” Hegby said and then caught himself. “Yes, I mean, we do! We absolutely do. It’s a horrible thing to have bare arms. Please, I’m begging of you, anything but that!”

  “Sorry, pal,” Huido said gently, “gotta be done. Let this be a lesson to ya that the next time I come in out of the blue looking for cash, you need to have some handy.”

  RENT-A-FRIEND

  There were a number of people milling about the Rent-A-Friend building, which was surprising since it was still early in the day. Everyone seemed rather friendly. Gappy supposed that made sense as he looked again at the sign on the door.

  He noticed a smell in the air that he’d never experienced. It was as though someone had made a potpourri of Orc, Ogre, Troll, Halfling, Gnome, Giant, Elf, Human, and sugary snacks. There may have even been a hint of vanilla in there somewhere, but his nose struggled to verify that.

  He climbed up a step stool that sat in front of the counter until he was standing eye-to-eye with a Dark Halfling.

  “Good morning,” Gappy said.

  “Looking for a friend or looking to be a friend?” the counter guy said gruffly.

  “Looking for one, I guess.”

  “You don’t know?”

  Gappy wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Look, pal, do you want a friend or not?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “There we go,” the counter guy said, pulling his keyboard over. “What type?”

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  The counter guy rolled his eyes, breathed heavily, and said, “Guy or gal?”

  “I’m male,” Gappy repli
ed, “thank you very much!”

  “I’m not talking about you, ya boob. Do you want your friend to be a guy or a gal?”

  “Oh! Sorry, I thought …” He trailed off and considered this for a moment. While Gappy tended to get along better with ladies than he did with men, it would look improper for him to pay for the company of a lady. It may be no big deal in Planoontik, but it certainly was in Hubintegler, and Gappy wasn’t quite ready to throw everything about his upbringing into the proverbial toilet. “Guy, I suppose.”

  “Race?”

  “Gnome.”

  The counter guy clicked a few times and typed something. “All out of Gnomes.”

  “Really?”

  “They go quick, but not that people use your type for actual friends or anything. Mostly they use them for parties.”

  “I see.” Gappy then frowned. “Actually, I don’t see. Why parties?”

  “For some reason the renters like sticking you guys on their front lawns. Something about it making their houses look posh.” The counter guy pointed at a flyer of a Gnome standing by a classy pool holding a daiquiri. “There is an up and coming trend where they take your type on vacations, too.”

  “Why?” asked Gappy.

  “You ain’t never seen commercials with them little guys in them?” the counter guy said and then shrugged. “For some reason marketing wonks think that having you guys show up in vacation advertisements boosts sales.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “We have a separate system for that, it’s called The Traveling Gnome service.”

  “Right,” Gappy said after mulling that one over for a moment. “What are my options, then?”

  “Whatever you want, pal.”

  “Except for Gnomes,” Gappy clarified.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “How about a Human?”

  The counter guy checked the system again. “All out of them, too, I guess. Unless you’re okay with a Zombie?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Figures. He’s worked here for five years and ain’t never once been picked up.” The counter guy looked around as if to make sure the coast was clear. “At first I thought it was ‘cause he stank, but it turned out that what smelled bad was his attitude. Grumpiest fellow I’ve ever met. Not that you can blame him. Tough being a Zombie, I should think.”

  “I couldn’t even imagine,” said Gappy, feeling bad about his personal prejudice, but recognizing that if a Dark Halfling thought somebody had a bad attitude, that was saying something. “Maybe just tell me what you have in stock?”

  “According to my records, we’ve got two Ogres, thirty-seven Dwarfs, one Elf, and it looks like an Orc was signed in this morning, too.”

  “That’s a lot of Dwarfs,” said Gappy.

  “Not very popular rentals.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Gappy had the sudden urge to leave and forget the entire thing. Everything about it rang wrong to him. Renting a friend went against his basic instincts. You made friends, you didn’t pay for them! But time was of the essence and he needed to get that 50% deal with the Barn Hunters show.

  “Can I interview some?”

  “Dwarfs?”

  “Just one, and also one Ogre, the Elf, and the Orc.”

  “Want to look over some of their records first?” asked the counter guy, turning the screen towards Gappy.

  “No, that’s okay,” Gappy answered. “I’m sure you’ve already done background checks and vetted them.”

  “We have?” The counter guy looked up and to the right for a moment. “I mean, right, yes, of course we have. Standard procedure, that. Wouldn’t be proper if we didn’t first check them out, now would it?”

  Gappy didn’t respond, but he didn’t exactly get the warm and fuzzies either.

  “Before we get started,” the counter guy said hurriedly, “do you have money?”

  “For interviewing?”

  “No, but a rental is two hundred dollars per day, and I want to make sure you’re capable of managing that before I waste everyone’s time with the interviewing process.”

  “I’ve got money,” Gappy affirmed, “but that sure is expensive.”

  “If you end up going with the Dwarf, it’s only fifty for the day.”

  “Why?”

  “‘Cause you’ll need the other hundred and fifty to pay for any damages they cause.”

  “Oh.”

  The counter guy stopped his typing for a moment. “You still want to interview the Dwarf?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Smart.”

  It had taken a few minutes for the counter guy to get everything set up, so Gappy started reading the plaque that hung over the main desk. It seemed that Rent-A-Friend had been in business for nearly 50 years. He had to squint to make out the actual story of the establishment, which read:

  During the Mediocre Scourge of King Krud that sat somewhere between the Great Scourge of Queen Azinka and the Minor-Yet-Particularly-Annoying-Scourge of Prince Huey, the town of Planoontik was thrown into the middle of war. The residents, though, refused to fight, stating that they were conscientious objectors. The soldiers of the major opposing forces rather liked this, since it turned out that conscientious objectors were rather easy to rough up. In order to protect itself, the Planoontikians decided to try a different angle. They set the town up to offer ladies of the night, and, in the event that Elves were in town, gentlemen of the night as well. For a time of nearly 7 years, Planoontik carried the nickname “Brotheltown.” Then the war ended and the people who remained decided that they would no longer tolerate being called by such a name, so they banned the establishment of prostitution and that was that … or so they thought. But the people became quickly depressed and started to leave the town in droves. In order to combat this mass exodus, the officials thought to bring back the debauchery, but soon learned that those who were leaving weren’t doing so in the pursuit of relations, but rather in the pursuit of relationships. In other words, they weren’t looking for one-night stands; they were looking for someone to talk to. That’s when the officials put their heads together and created the Find-A-Friend foundation. Unfortunately, joining the foundation meant that you had to put your name on the membership roster, which meant it was researchable by the public, and many people found that embarrassing. This opened the door to some enterprising folks who decided to set up a Rent-A-Friend business that would allow renters to keep their names under standard privacy rules, and the business has been thriving ever since.

  “Okay, pal,” the counter guy said, “go into Room A there and I’ll send your options in one at a time, yeah?”

  “Sounds good,” said Gappy.

  § § §

  It had taken a while for Gappy to get up into the chair that sat on the far side of the room. Even then he had to stand on it to see over the edge of the table.

  A gigantic Ogre shoved opened the door with enough force to cause it to slap the wall with a resounding smack. The knob went right through the paneling.

  “Oops,” the huge creature said. He then put his foot on the wall and began to tug the opposite handle until the stuck one popped free. Unfortunately, the effort required caused the Ogre’s foot to break through the paneling in response. “Oops,” he said again.

  A few grunts later, he’d gotten his foot loose.

  “Hmmm,” he said as he peered at the hole. Then he snapped his fingers and grabbed a piece of paper and some tape. Soon the gap was covered, albeit poorly. “Good as new.”

  After admiring his work for a few moments, he turned and looked around the room. Finally, his eyes fell on Gappy.

  “You is a Gnome fing, yeah?”

  “I am,” Gappy replied.

  “Is you that same Gnome dat dey say wants ter interview friends?”

  “That would be my guess, yes,” replied Gappy with a smile. “My name is Gappy.”

  The Ogre pointed at himself. “Bizz.” Then he frowned. “Bad news, though. Bizz don’t li
ke Gnome fings.”

  “Why not?” asked Gappy, finding it silly that anyone could dislike someone else simply because of their race.

  “Too little,” Bizz answered with a shrug. “Always get under Bizz’s feet when Bizz is walking. Makes Bizz mad. Makes Bizz wanna kick ‘em.”

  “I see,” Gappy said, more than a little concerned at being in such a small room with this particular Ogre. “Well, then, Bizz, it has been a pleasure talking with you.”

  “Yeah?” Bizz scratched his tooth. “Dat’s new. So do Bizz get da job?”

  “Uh … I still have to interview a few others,” Gappy said apologetically. “It’s in the…uh … contract. But you’re certainly in the running.”

  “Bizz don’t like running. Bad for knees. Plus, Bizz gets chaffed easy.”

  “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  § § §

  The next candidate to come in was an Elf. He stood tall and lean with long white hair, a flawless complexion, perfect teeth, and an outfit that had more glitter than anyone should rightfully wear. His movement was so smooth that he almost appeared to be floating.

  “How precious a gift of time honored lore you are, little Gnome,” the Elf said. “I am Eloquen. The light of the world beams like powdery cascades when there are Gnomes about.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “The sands of the flowing glen fill my heart to bustling when I dance among the wee folk,” the Elf named Eloquen attempted.

  “Not following you,” Gappy replied.

  “Rippling is the water that flows through crashing passages along the pebble-filled stream that makes up the heart of a Gnome.”

  “Honestly,” said Gappy with a shrug, “I’m not understanding any of this.”

  “Ice chills the fountain as coals set the flame of creation in the minds of tiny tinkerers,” Eloquen patiently said.

  “Do you always talk like that?”

  “Does the song of light push the boundaries of love during the rain?”

  “Is that a yes?” Gappy ventured.

  “Yep.”

  § § §