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

by John P. Logsdon

  Shrit stood in silent protest as the black car drove down the driveway. Gappy grunted. How could an Orc understand how Gnomes were with each other? Granted, some Gnomes were gruff and crumbly, just like any other race, but they rarely betrayed each other. Did Gappy go out of his way to judge how Orcs treated each other? No. Why not? Because he wasn’t an Orc!

  “I don’t trust her, Gappy,” Shrit said finally. “I know that she’s the one who got me fired from Stackowiak’s.”

  “She said she wasn’t.”

  “There’s only one other female Gnome in this town, Gappy, and she’s an actor. We’ve been friends for years.” He kicked some dirt around with his foot “It had to be that Tootz lady.”

  Gappy breathed heavily. Shrit was his friend, but he just didn’t understand.

  “She seemed nice enough to me,” he said with a faraway look.

  “Oh, no,” Shrit groaned. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for her.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gappy said, turning a shade of red.

  “Man,” Shrit scoffed. “You do, don’t you? That’s not good, Gappy.”

  Gappy stormed into the barn. “Maybe you should keep your mind on work, Shrit, and not on my personal interests.”

  “Not good at all,” Shrit said as he followed Gappy into the barn.

  GOVERNMENT DEALINGS

  Gappy dreaded going into town when there was so much work to be done, but Tootz had made it clear that he needed to take care of a few business items before going much further with his company.

  Most of the parking spaces were empty as Gappy searched for the government building. It was clear that Planoontik was a lazy little town. By this time in Hubintegler there would be hundreds of Gnomes bouncing about in the main city while hundreds more busily tinkered at their desks and workshops.

  He found the place easily since it was the only one with Government Building stenciled over the door. Plus, it looked old, just the way government buildings always look.

  Gappy had expected to be waiting for hours before even speaking with someone, but it appeared that today was his lucky day. It was completely empty of customers.

  There were multiple stations to choose from, but only one of them was currently manned. Or, more precisely, Orc’d. The worker looked a lot like Shrit, except that this guy had the traditional bald head. He also had a few facial scars and a war tattoo that Gappy could only describe as a black blotch with red specks. The suit he wore was dark gray, crisp, and offset with a white shirt and blue tie. On his lapel was a nametag that read, “Mr. Xorg.”

  “Take a number,” Mr. Xorg said in a gravelly voice that Gappy was used to hearing from Orcs.

  Gappy looked around again, verifying that he was still the only customer in the place.

  “There’s nobody else here,” he pointed out.

  “Take a number.”

  “Seriously? I just need to get some paperwork done.”

  “You got a number?” Mr. Xorg asked, looking up from his computer.

  “Well, no.”

  “Take a number.”

  So much for this being his lucky day, he thought as he looked up at the box that held the numbers. He then searched to see if there was a step stool that he could use to reach the box. There wasn’t. One would think that a government building would take into consideration all of the races in the land of Ononokin, but apparently they did not.

  “I can’t reach it,” Gappy said.

  “Reach what?”

  “The box to get my number.”

  Mr. Xorg grunted and leaned over the counter. He pointed at a red button that sat just over eye height to Gappy. Above it was a partially smudged sign that read, “Gnomes, Dwarfs, Halflings, and other vertically-challenged people, press here to get your number.”

  He pressed the button.

  The box up on the counter whirred out a ticket and then began beeping. Mr. Xorg reached out, pressed another button that shut off the beeping, tore the ticket free, and then handed it down to Gappy.

  “Thanks,” Gappy said, trying to contain himself from pointing out the idiocy of it all. “How long is this going to take?”

  “Depends,” Mr. Xorg said. “What number you got?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Might be a while,” Mr. Xorg replied. “We’re only at number three.”

  “But there’s nobody here,” Gappy whined.

  Mr. Xorg’s demeanor didn’t change at all. “Go sit down and someone will call your number when ready.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Yep.”

  Gappy sat down, trying to keep calm. He finally understood why his father had always complained when having to go to government facilities. It wasn’t necessary for most things in Hubintegler, but it happened from time to time.

  But he wasn’t in Hubintegler anymore.

  “When in Pren, do as the Prenians do,” as the saying went. That saying came from the fact that Pren was the land of Orcs and if you tried to do things in a way that Orcs didn’t like, you often ended up getting punched in the head. Fortunately, other lands forbade Orcs from punching people in the head, unless there was sufficient proof that the victim of said head-punching had it coming. Most cases never got to court because it was a rare victim who survived being punched in the head by an Orc.

  The only sound in the room over the next 45 minutes was that of the ventilation system. Every now and then there would be a “click” as Mr. Xorg reached out and updated the number on the display. It was insanity.

  Finally, the number 17 showed up and Gappy hopped down off the chair and walked back up to the Orc.

  “You got a number?” Gappy rolled his eyes and held the number up. “Okay,” Mr. Xorg said, “what do you need?”

  “I’m starting a new business in town, and—”

  “You in the wrong line,” Mr. Xorg said, pointing a few stations down. “New businesses is line three.”

  “You couldn’t have told me that before?” Gappy asked incredulously.

  “Didn’t know what you was doing before.”

  “I tried to tell you what I was doing before, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “That’s ‘cause you ain’t had a number,” Mr. Xorg replied calmly.

  Gappy bit his lip, trying to keep his cool. “What’s this line for, then?”

  “Information.”

  There were no rules in Ononokin against Gnomes punching anyone in the head, except, of course, for other Gnomes. This was mostly because Gnomes couldn’t quite reach high enough to punch anyone in the head, but it was also because their punches weren’t very impressive … again, unless you’re a Gnome who is on the receiving end of said punch.

  He squared his shoulders, padded down to line 3, and stood there for a few seconds before pressing the button next to the ticket button that said, “Call for help.”

  Mr. Xorg got off his chair and walked down to the New Business station.

  “You got a number?” he asked.

  Gappy guffawed. “Look, you. I just waited for forty-five minutes just to be told I was supposed to be in this line instead of the other line. You know that I don’t have a number.”

  “You need to take a number,” Mr. Xorg replied without even flinching.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gappy stated with much frustration. “There’s nobody here ... never mind. Just give me a damn number.”

  “You gotta press the button.”

  He slammed his hand on the button and Mr. Xorg again handed him a number.

  “How long is this going to take?” he said, this time showing him his number, which was 43.

  “It’s going to be a while.”

  “That’s it,” Gappy said. “I want to speak to a supervisor.”

  “That’s line seven.”

  “Good,” Gappy replied angrily and then briskly walked to line 7. “The nerve of this place.” He pressed the “speak to a supervisor” button.

  “Can I help you?” said the famil
iar voice of Mr. Xorg.

  “You’re the supervisor?” asked Gappy.

  “Yep.”

  “Do I need a number for this line?”

  “Nope.”

  “About time.” Gappy put his hands on his hips. “Can you explain to me why I have to take a number to wait for information on which line I have to stand in to start a business?”

  “We gotta keep things orderly.”

  “There’s nobody here,” Gappy pointed out yet again.

  “Sure there is,” Mr. Xorg replied with a frown. “You and me are here.”

  “There’s nobody else waiting for services here,” Gappy clarified. “It’s just me. Don’t you think that making me wait for no reason is preposterous?”

  “Please watch your language, sir.”

  “I didn’t say anything offensive!”

  “You said perpos … prepoos … something like that.”

  “Listen, I need to get the paperwork done to start a business. I see no point in sitting here for hours and hours, playing your little game. I’m a busy Gnome.”

  “You say you’re starting a business?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying! I’ve been saying that since I got here.”

  “That’s line three.”

  There were so many things that he wanted to say, most of which would solicit a “watch your language, please” response from the Orc, but Gappy decided to be smart about it. Obviously he had to play the game in order to get through this process. Thus, he would think a few steps ahead.

  He set about going around the room and finding all of the forms that were available that related to business. He then began filling all of them out, in detail, as he waited for his number to come up.

  “You got a number?” Mr. Xorg asked. Gappy handed it over. “Starting a business?”

  “Yes.”

  “Got the forms?”

  Gappy handed them up.

  “What kind of business?”

  “Mechanical engineering,” Gappy replied, keeping to as few words as possible.

  “Name of the business?”

  “Gappy’s Gadgets.”

  “You verify that name doesn’t already exist?” Mr. Xorg asked, looking over his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “It’s not taken in this town.”

  “Is it taken anywhere in the Underworld?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

  Mr. Xorg set the paper down. “You could get sued if it is.”

  “Fine,” Gappy said. “How do I find out for certain?”

  “Line four.”

  Gappy looked at him dully. “I’ve just remembered that Gappy’s Gadgets is not taken anywhere in the Underworld.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Good. What’s your name?”

  “Gappy Whirligig.”

  Mr. Xorg again looked up. “You got a middle name?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “Gloodiggity.”

  “How come you didn’t put that on the form?”

  “Because, Mr. Xorg, the form didn’t specify that I had to put my middle name.”

  Mr. Xorg turned the form around and said, “Says right here, ‘Full legal name.’”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope, that’s what the form says.”

  “Okay,” Gappy said as the feeling of helplessness settled in. “I’ll just write it in.”

  “Sorry, can’t allow that,” Mr. Xorg said. “These are government forms. Has to be done right. Your signature’s gotta match and everything. You’ll have to fill them out again.”

  Gappy’d had more than enough of this. Little or not, he was determined to find a way to punch this Orc in the head, even if it was just via a verbal onslaught.

  “This entire process is outrageous,” he said hotly. “I can’t believe how much time is being wasted with this.”

  “You want to speak to the supervisor?”

  “What would be the point? It’s just you anyway and you obviously don’t care at all!”

  “Nope.”

  Gappy took the forms back, ripped them up, jumped up and down on them and kicked them all around, and even yelled “Gah!” a couple of times. Then he picked it all up and threw it in the trash before he set about filling out the forms again, making sure to use his full name this time.

  He steadied himself and walked back to line number 3.

  Mr. Xorg again walked from station one and said, “You got a number?”

  Gappy looked up at the current number on the display and answered, “Fifty-three.”

  “Where’s your ticket?”

  “Lost it.”

  “Line five allows you to reclaim your ticket.”

  “Does line five require a number?” challenged Gappy.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s it, Mr. Xorg,” Gappy said with a fierceness that he’d not known he possessed, “you’re going to take these forms and register my business right now or I’m going to complain about you to the highest levels. I’ll go all the way to the mayor’s office. I’ll write letter after letter until I get you fired from this job. Do you understand me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Now, we’re getting somewhere. How long before those papers are filed?”

  “Depends on what number you got,” Mr. Xorg replied.

  “I just told you that my number is fifty-three.”

  Mr. Xorg looked at the counter and said, “You missed your turn. We are at fifty-four now.”

  Two hours later, Gappy left the government building feeling battered and beaten. The very fact that he’d finally secured the required documents was a testament to his determination and perseverance, but he swore that he would never go through this again. Running a business in Ononokin was supposed to be an honorable pursuit. The government always claimed that small business owners were the backbone of society, but it was clear that the government was doing everything it could to ensure that nobody in their right mind wanted to play the part of backbone in Ononokin.

  Just as he was about to pull himself into his wheely engine, a well-dressed Human man stopped him.

  “Mr. Whirligig, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said smartly. “I’m the mayor of Planoontik. The name is Yves St. Saint, but everyone just calls me The Mayor.”

  “Oh, okay,” Gappy said, feeling exhausted. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” the man said with a smile. “I was very pleased to see that you selected our town for doing business. We are always on the lookout for top talent, you know.”

  “Except for in your government offices,” Gappy said under his breath.

  “Pardon?”

  He was going to just let it go, but this guy was the mayor, after all. Maybe he should know what’s going on, if he didn’t already. For all Gappy knew, the mayor was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

  “I just lost my entire morning going through tons of ridiculous delays in that building while trying to set up my business,” he said heatedly. “The person working in there—and do note that I use the term ‘working’ as loosely as I possibly can—is a complete waste of carbon, and the processes required are insane.”

  “Is that right?” said the mayor seriously. “I haven’t heard a single complaint regarding Mr. Xorg or the process of starting a business in our fine town in almost a year.”

  “I honestly cannot fathom how that’s even remotely possible, sir,” Gappy said in shock.

  “It’s probably because most people just use LawZippy.com these days.”

  “LawZippy.com?”

  “Yes,” the mayor said with a beaming smile. “It allows you to do all of your paperwork online.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you have to take a number or anything?” Gappy asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t think so,” answered
the mayor.

  “Dammit.”

  THANKS, BUT NO THANKS

  On a whim, Gappy pulled out Ms. Gibdawdle’s card and called to see if she may be interested in having lunch with him. His nerves were through the roof already, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to try. The worst she could say was no.

  “… and I just finished up, so I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me,” he said with a quiver.

  “I’ve actually arrived at the Yummy Grill a few minutes ago, which is about a block away from the government building,” she said through the TalkyThingy. “I already have a table, too.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he said enthusiastically and then headed down to the restaurant.

  Fortunately, this place had thought of Gnomes as there was a Gnome-ladder in the main area. This allowed Gnomes to climb up and look around a place in order to spot someone. Without that, it was all dodging feet and hoping for the best. He still had to carefully navigate back to her table, once he’d spotted her, but at least he had a general idea of which direction to take.

  The table was Gnome-sized as well, which was surprising indeed.

  “Hello,” he said as he sat down. “I can’t believe that they have a table to fit us.”

  “I come here a lot,” Tootz said. “Plus, I provided a chunk of investment capital when the owner came to town.”

  “You must get special treatment, then.”

  She shrugged noncommittally. “So you were at the government building?”

  “Yes,” he said irritably. “That infernal Mr. Xorg is enough to drive someone batty. I also met the mayor, and complained to him about their silly processes, too, but he didn’t seem all that bothered.”

  “Why didn’t you just use LawZippy.com?” she asked, pausing from eating her side salad. “Would have saved you a lot of time.”

  “That’s what the mayor said, too. I had no idea something like that existed.”

  “No offense, Gappy,” she said, setting down her fork, “but you’re not very business-minded.”

  “Apparently not,” he laughed. “I’ll get it, though. It’ll just take some time.”

  Gappy’s sandwich arrived. It was a cucumber club, which is something he’d not had in a long time. The cucumbers were piled high on white bread with cream cheese and fried meat. The last time he’d had one of these was on his 30th birthday when his parents had taken him into the big city for a celebration.