Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes.

by Robert P. Wills

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Wherein the Obligatory Bar Room Brawl Finally Occurs

  “What a pair.”

  “You can say that again, Grim”. Drimblerod shook his head as he moved to the sign and flipped it to ‘Closed’.

  “Think we’ll see them again?”

  “Those two characters? I sure hope not. That would ruin my day, I think.”

  Grimbledung rubbed his hands together. “So, celebrating then?”

  Drimblerod nodded, “Definitely. This was a good day. We need to have a nice quiet drink to celebrate.”

  “That’s celebrating?” Grimbledung frowned. “That’s it? A quiet drink? What, upstairs tucked in our beds even?”

  “Well, maybe a little more.” He winked at his partner, “If we get cleaned up quick, we can get a table at the Mora Tau before the crowds show up.”

  Grimbledung did a jig, “The Mora Tau?” He clapped his hands and began to sing

  Oh we’re goin to the bar called Mora Tau

  Have some drinks and maybe a little more?

 

  Wow!

 

  And to ease our eyes, there’s females there that are lookers!

  All shapes and sizes and willing cause they’re all…

  “Grim,” interrupted Drimblerod. “Are you going to sing and dance or get ready to go? We need to beat the crowd or we’ll be stuck at the bar instead of a table.”

  Grimbledung stopped singing but the jig didn’t.

  “Cleaned up” Drimblerod pointed to the back of the shop.

  Grimbledung nodded as he jigged his way to the back.

  With a head-shake, his partner followed, Rat close behind.

  “Can I go too?” Rat asked as Grimbledung changed his shirt. The act severely interfered with his jig, but didn’t stop it completely.

  “Sure!” Said Grimbledung as his head poked out the top of his shirt. “The more the merrier, right?”

  “As long as you two behave yourselves. The Mora Tau can get rough sometimes.”

  “So we’ll blend in better?” Grimbledung splashed water on his face. “Right?”

  “Absolutely. We’re rough and tumble. It’s rough and tumble. We’re a perfect match.”

  “Wait, which one of us is rough and which is tumble?”

  “You’re tumble.” Rat said.

  “Wow, that’s rough.”

  “No, I’m rough.” Rat twitched his whiskers.

  “Rat,” warned Drimblerod, “keep it up and you’re staying home.”

  Rat grinned at the Drimblerod. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” He looked at Grimbledung. “Him, I can’t make any guarantee for.” He gestured at the Gnome.

  Drimblerod looked at his partner. He had a towel wrapped around his head like an Iranistan warrior. He was still dancing.

  “You are not wearing that towel on your head.”

  “I think it makes me look exotic.”

  “No.” Said Rat and Drimblerod at the same time.

  Dejected, Grimbledung removed the towel from his head. “Motasefane bedoone kale e-man”

  “What’s that?” Asked Drimblerod.

  “It’s Giantish for ‘not as exotic’.”

  “You speak Giantish?”

  ‘Just a few important phrases.”

  “I don’t see how ‘not as exotic’ is an important phrase.” Drimblerod reached down for Rat. “You ready?”

  “I’m a rat. What’s to get ready?”

  “You’d be surprised how often it comes up in conversation.” Grimbledung grinned. “Like now for instance.”

  “Well, in any language, you’re not going out with a towel wrapped around your head.” Drimblerod picked Rat up. “Let’s go then.” He squinted at his partner, “Towel-less.”

  “I’ve heard it’s always important to have a towel with you when you go places.”

  “Really?” Drimblerod moved to the curtain. “Never heard that.”

  “I thought it was important to never panic,” offered Rat.

  “That makes more sense.” Drimblerod reached out and pulled the curtain to the side. “Ready whenever you are, Grim. There’s drinking and carousing in our very near future.”

  Grimbledung picked up his jig again as he moved past the curtain towards the front of the shop.

  The three made their way quickly to the Mora Tau Bar and BAR- the sun was beginning to move completely into his nighttime resting place and at that point, the bar would fill up rapidly.

  “Ahhh, the Mora Tau,” said Grimbledung. He looked up appraisingly at the building. “Let’s bask a moment so the narrative can give some background.”

  The Mora Tau took up over half a block, with the remainder being a parking area for wagons and beasts. Two large Orcs stood at the gate of the parking area. Each held a thick, leather wrapped club. If someone were in the mood to park a wagon full of gold out in the open, there wasn’t a safer place in town than the Mora Tau livery parking area. Once the appropriate bribe was paid to the Orcs, of course. The building itself was a massive two-story affair with far too many windows (and not enough structure) on the second floor. In many of these windows, ladies -of various races- leaned out and, in a complete role reversal, cat-called any and all passersby. The windows on the first floor were more evenly spaced and actually had curtains in them. Most of them anyway.

  The structure appeared to have been built in stages; there were two distinct architectural styles in use, and one section that seemed to have been designed by someone who had never even heard of the profession of ‘architect’.

  It was common knowledge that there was also a basement.

  Grimbledung opened the door to the establishment and moved to the side for his partner to enter. “Let’s go to the basement.”

  Drimblerod nodded as he entered the bar’s main floor. “We’ll start there and work our way up.”

  “I’ll just stay downstairs, I think,” said Rat. “I don’t think I need to make a visit to the debauchery of the second floor.” He leered. “For that, I may head round back to the kitchen”.

  “Suit yourself, Rat,” said Grimbledung as he followed his partner in.

  The trio stood in the foyer and took in the sight. There were quite a few tables that were already full. People were already standing at the bar as well. “We’re too late,” said Grimbledung. “Standing at the bar. Branded a fool. What will they say tomorrow at the shop?”

  “Don’t you start singing,” warned Rat. “The last thing I want is to be thrown out of this place. Yet again.”

  Drimblerod moved to the stairs. “This floor may be full because these people have respectable jobs and got off early. Well we’ll just go to the floor where the folks who go there are still mucking stalls, or picking pockets.” As he started down the stairs, he turned to his partner, “Follow me.”

  Grimbledung fell in step behind his partner as they went down the creaky stairs. Grimbledung slowed as he looked at the sketches that were framed and lining the staircase. I wonder who all these people are. Are they famous or something? When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Drimblerod was already at a table. There were several still vacant, in fact.

  “Success!” Cheered Grimbledung as he flopped into the chair beside his partner. The chair creaked in protest.

  “Careful, Grim. The furniture down here is pretty rickety.”

  Grimbledung shifted his weight back and forth in the chair. It swayed under him. “With how much business this place gets, you’d think old Palmerlee would fork over a few coins for some better furniture.

  Drimblerod raised his hand to summon a wench. “No, if the chairs were comfortably sturdy, they’d be lethal in a brawl. These nice and spindly chairs make terrible weapons.” He eyed his partner who was still squirming. “So, stop squirming in that chair before you break it. You’re going to get us kicked out of here and we just arrived.”

  “Not on your life. If there’s one place I’ve never been kicked out of, it’s a bar” tut-tutted G
rimbledung. “When it comes to drinking, I’m a professional.” He smiled as the buxom serving wench approached the table. Even though it was early in the evening, she already had a tired look on her face. She was also the oldest person in the room by a couple of decades. Maybe three. Even so, her corset was cinched tight and her breasts seemed to pour over the top of her outfit in true serving wench fashion.

  “Whaddayawant?”

  “Tankards of ale,” said Grimbledung politely. He winked at his partner. “If you please.”

  “Anythin’ ta eat?”

  Grimbledung rubbed his belly. “Prolly. But first I want to get a few drinks down on an empty stomach.”

  The wench narrowed her eyes at the Gnome. “Ya cheap er sumethin?”

  “No, not at all, Miss...”

  “Miss?”

  “... Missus” tried Drimblerod. “He’s just impatient. Bring us a couple of chickens.”

  “And no vegetables.”

  Drimblerod glanced at Rat. “And no vegetables.”

  “If you please.” Grimbledung winked again.

  “Somethin’ wrong wit’ yer eye?”

  “Errr. No?” Tried Grimbledung. “Just being polite is all.”

  The wench stared at Grimbledung. Opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She pointed a finger at him instead. Picking her tray off the table, she moved off to get drinks.

  Grimbledung bounced up and down in his chair. “Oh boy, this is fun!”

  “All right, Grim. We’ve got us a table and drinks on the way. That’s a good start. I’m going out to the facilities. Just please try and behave yourself while I’m away.”

  Grimbledung waved a dismissive hand at his partner, “Don’t worry, I’m on my best behavior. You go make wee, and Rat and I will wait here.”

  Drimblerod shook his head as he walked to the stairs. He had to wait to go up because of a group of Halflings was coming down. Once they passed, he went up. The Halflings stopped at the bottom and scanned the room. They nodded at another group of three Halflings sitting in a far corner. After a quick discussion, the four Halflings chose a table next to Grimbledung and Rat and sat down.

  Rat leaned over towards Grimbledung. “There’s a lot of Halflings down here all of a sudden. Just don’t do anything crazy. Drimblerod and I would like to be here for a while. We’re celebrating, remember.”

  Grimbledung nodded at his friend. When he spied the wench moving towards them, several tankards on her tray, he began to wave at her. “Ooohhh! Ooohhh!” He coaxed her on. “OOOHHH!”

  When she got to the table and began to lower the tray onto it, one of the Halflings grabbed her arm to stop her. “Those are our drinks.”

  The wench looked from the Halflings to the Gnome and Rat, and back again. “Ya stupid?”

  The Halfling’s eyes got large, “What?”

  “There’s four of you Halflings infesting that table. There’s three drinks on this here tray.” She snickered. “Oh, sorry. Which of you two are the couple? I can get you a pair of reeds so you can enjoy yer drink all romantic like.”

  Grimbledung guffawed at the Halflings. A sharp look from three of them made him stop and rest his chin on the table. Silently. The fourth Halfling hadn’t taken his eyes off the wench.

  “You’re awful bold for a used-up wench.”

  Grimbledung frowned. “Hey now; that’s not polite at all.”

  Rat shook his head. “Don’t do it, Grim.”

  The serving wench shrugged as she turned her back on the Halfling, “Better to be a bold used up wench than a loudmouthed little bitty Halfling.” As she picked up the tankards, she held her pinkie out. “Little bittie” she repeated as she waggled her pinkie.

  Grimbledung guffawed at the Halflings. This time all four gave him a sharp look.

  “Grimbledung,” warned Rat.

  Grimbledung nodded as he picked up his tankard. “Thanks heaps. Can we run a tab?”

  The wench leaned down on the table. Her breasts looked like they were on the verge of an exodus of some big old book proportions that involved wandering around in the heat for a long time. “Are you respectable?”

  Well...” Grimbledung looked down at his drink, then at the wench’s breasts, then her face. Then back at her breasts. Then back at her face. “Yes? I am co-owner of Secondhand Sorcery. The best used wand shoppe around.”

  The Halflings laughed. “Used wand seller,” said one.

  Grimbledung glanced at the Halflings.

  The wench ignored the Halflings and continued to stare at Grimbledung.

  “Oh, I know tha’ place. Down near Pozzuoli’s it is.

  Grimbledung nodded, “Sure is. Me and Drimblerod run it. Together.” He smiled. “Rat helps too.”

  Rat nodded. “That is true.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’m a key employee, actually. Key.”

  “And we have a dummy that helps too.”

  “A dummy!” The Halflings erupted in laughter. Grimbledung glanced at the Halflings.

  “Well, I’ve seen you down here before. And your partner,” said the wench as she straightened, “I’ll keep a tab for you.” She took a charcoal stick from her apron and put three slash marks on the table. “Three so far.” She winked and moved off.

  “Hey guys, I got a shop” said one Halfling. “And we have a rat that works for us.”

  Grimbledung glanced at the Halflings.

  “Oh, that’s grand. Do you have anything else?” Asked a third Halfling innocently.

  “Well, we have a dummy too.”

  The Halflings laughed uproariously.

  Grimbledung glanced at the Halflings. He put down his drink.

  “Grim...”

  Grimbledung stood up and moved to the Halfling’s table. They didn’t notice him because they were all laughing too hard. “Excuse me.”

  The Halflings stopped their laughing and looked at Grimbledung. “Which one is he?” Asked one.

  “I think he’s the rat.”

  “Or maybe the dummy”.

  They all began to laugh again.

  “Grim...” Rat tried again. “How about you sit down until Drimblerod gets back?”

  “Yeah, go sit down until your partner gets back,” laughed a Halfling. “We saw him on the stairs. He’s such a sweet looking partner.”

  Grimbledung breathed in deeply.

  “Look out! He’s going to blow!” Another round of laughter commenced.

  “Grimbledung, let’s take our drinks upstairs,” suggested Rat.

  “Yeah, go upstairs, Gnome. Back home to your stinking, wand-selling, garbage-scow shop.”

  Grimbledung put his hands on the edge of the Halfling’s table. “Don’t you think you ought to rephrase that?”

  One Halfling nodded as he suddenly became serious. “Yes. You’re right. I didn’t mean that your shop was selling garbage.”

  Grimbledung nodded. “That’s what I thought you…”

  “I meant to say your shop should be hauled off as garbage.”

  Grimbledung punched the Halfling in the mouth.

  “Here we go.” Rat took a drink of Ale. If history were any indication, soon there would be no tankards left.

  The Halfling leaned back in his chair from the punch, as he did, its back legs gave out and he crashed backwards. The other Halflings quickly got to their feet.

  Rat slid a tankard over to the edge of the table. Grimbledung reached out and grabbed it as it began to teeter of the edge. Without interrupting his swing, he brought the tankard around and hit another Halfling on the side of the head with it. It exploded in a shower of ale and clay shards. A large gash opened on the Halfling’s cheek. Blood began to wash the ale away.

  The remaining two Halflings grabbed Grimbledung by the arms and yanked him onto the table. Thanks to the new coating of ale, he slid off the end and crashed into the table beyond it. It collapsed into splinters. As it did, the drinks on it soaked the three Humans sitting there.

  One picked up Grimbledung.

  “Thanks!”
<
br />   Another Human punched him in the face, sending him reeling back towards the Halflings. The four Halflings hefted Grimbledung in the air and tossed him onto his table. Unbelievably, it remained intact. Rat spun the last tankard around and Grimbledung grabbed it by the handle. He swung it at a Halfling, catching him across the bridge of his nose. Dutifully, his nose began to spurt blood and point in a completely different direction.

  A Dwarf at a nearby table stood and grabbed one of the Halflings by the shoulder and spun him around. “Ya should pick on someone yer own size, Laddie,” he said. Then he head-butted the Halfling.

  The Halfling staggered back, dazed. He threw a punch at what he thought was the helm-wearing Dwarf. It was a seated Orc at a completely different table. He was sitting with a Human. On purpose, even. The Orc rose to his feet.

  “Time to go Grim!” Said Rat.

  Grimbledung rolled off the table and onto his feet. He picked up his chair and swung it at the Orc’s back. It exploded ineffectually into splinters. The Orc spun around to see who hit him. As he did, Grimbledung tossed the remaining leg of the chair to a Halfling. Instinctively, the hapless Halfling caught it.

  “He did it!” Shouted Grimbledung, “stinking Halfling!”

  The Halfling looked from the table leg to Grimbledung, then to the Orc. Then to the table leg. He dropped it as if it were red-hot. “Now let’s not…” He began.

  “Yeah. Stinkin’ Halflin’” The Orc reached for the Halfling who quickly moved out of reach. As he stumbled back, he bumped into another table. Not really needing an excuse at this point, but appreciating it anyway, the two Dwarves at the table leapt to their feet and grabbed the Halfling.

  Seeing an opportunity, he would probably never get again, Grimbledung stepped forward to the struggling Halfling.

  “Take a shot,” offered one of the Dwarves as the Halfling struggled in their grip.

  “This is something I’ve wanted to do for I don’t know how long.” He reached out and twisted the Halfling’s nose roughly. “TWEEEAK!” Grimbledung shouted.

  Tears welled up in the Halflings eyes as his nose broke. “You damned Gnome!”

  One of the Dwarves let go of the Halfling’s shoulder, backed up a step and kicked him in the back. The Halfling, with both hands holding his broken, bleeding nose, reeled forward. Into the waiting arms of two Half-Orcs.

  The brawl had spread throughout the bar. The battle lines were -vaguely- the Halflings against everyone else. The two Half-Orcs seemed to be on their own side, doling out punishment in all directions with the Orc lending a familial hand.

  Drimblerod came down the stairs to see his partner get thrown over a table by two Halflings. “What is going on here?” He shouted over the ruckus.

  As he scanned the room for Rat, a familiar-looking serving wench caught his eye with a wave. She gestured for him to come over. Between coaxing him on, she pointed at the bar. Rat was sitting on it. Holding a drink.

  Drimblerod ducked and weaved his way to the bar, only getting glanced with a table leg at one point. “What is going on here?” He asked again.

  The serving wench shrugged, “Happens a lot down here. The Halflings started it.” Just then, a Halfling staggered back against the bar. She dutifully picked up a bottle and smashed it on his head. He collapsed in a heap. “One down.” She smiled, “You know. Those fellows may be small, but they can sure hold their own in a scrap.”

  “Oh, before I forget, Drimblerod. We owe for four drinks.” Drimblerod looked at Rat. “You’re on your second drink already?”

  “Well, in my defense, Grimbledung smashed a Halfling on the head with my first one.” He twitched his whiskers. “And yours as well.”

  “What do I owe you?” Drimblerod ducked as a tankard flew by his head. It smashed into the wall showering the three with ale.

  The serving wench shook her head, “The ale costs more than the tankards. I wish they’d throw empty ones.”

  “I’m working on it” said Rat as he tipped his tankard again.

  “Five copper,” she finished at Drimblerod. She looked at the stairs. “Woops. This will settle things down.” She gestured toward the stairs.

  Drimblerod looked over. Palmerlee Griggs was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was old (for a Human) yet still fit-looking. His shoulder-length sweeping hair was all silver-grey; matching his beard and moustache. He was dressed in what vaguely resembled a sailor’s outfit. He held a wand in his hand as he looked around the room.

  Palmerlee was used to brawls starting out in the lower BAR of his establishment. Early on, when he realized that they were going to be a routine occurrence, he had hired a local carpenter to supply him with lightweight, inexpensive tables and chairs to furnish the room. Nothing was heavy enough to be lethal. As a stabbing instrument, the broken leg of a chair would be a poor choice for a weapon. Even the tankards were made especially thin. He ducked as one of the aforementioned tankards sailed over his head. Being witness to countless brawls, he could easily pick out the instigators. Once he determined who ‘us’ was and who ‘them’ was, he could stop a brawl fairly quickly by focusing on removing just one or the other group. It seemed the Halflings were the ‘them’. Two Half-Orcs and a full-blooded Orc were also involved. Typically, Orcs- kind fell into a third category: unaffiliated. Getting them out of the fight wasn’t as important since there were only three of them. They were also regulars and tended to listen to Palmerlee. Usually. One smiled and waved to him as he punched a Human in the mouth. Palmerlee waved back amicably. “Hey, Tank.”

  Palmerlee aimed his wand at a Halfling that had just staggered into his line of sight. Even with an obviously broken nose, he continued to fight. Palmerlee aimed his wand at the Halfling’s feet and shot a stream of ice at him. Within a moment, the Halfling’s feet were firmly frozen to the floor. One down. He looked around and saw a Human and another Halfling grappling. The Human had a knife out. More than a friendly barroom brawl, this was attempted murder taking place. Palmerlee aimed his wand at the Human’s knife-wielding hand and blasted it. Suddenly, the Human’s hand weighed an extra twenty pounds as it was neatly encased in a block of ice. Caught off balance, he fell to the side, hand thunking to the hard-packed dirt floor. The Halfling glanced over at Palmerlee as he raised his fist to punch the now at-his-height human. Palmerlee shook his head and jabbed a thumb up the stairs. To emphasize his point, he aimed his wand at the Halfling’s head.

  The Halfling moved to the stairs, grabbing an accomplice as he went. Without making eye contact, the two left the brawl.

  Seriously outnumbered, the remaining four Halflings backed into a corner, and regrouped for the assault they knew was coming. As they stood ready, a Gnome crashed into them, sending them all to the ground. As they got to their feet, the Gnome took a position beside the Halflings, facing the rest of the group. His face was bloodied and his shirt was torn, but all in all, he seemed in fair shape. A Gnome tossing in with a group of Halflings? ‘Bring it on’ Palmerlee heard the Gnome say as he shadow-boxed. The Gnome looked left and right at the Halflings that were staring at him. ‘Hey fellas’ said the Gnome with a smile ‘I think we got them on the ropes.’ Not smiling back, the Halflings picked up the Gnome and tossed him back into the ‘us’ crowd. With the battle lines reestablished, silence fell over the room as everyone picked out a target to attack.

  In the far other corner of the bar, a loud ‘Clink, Clink’ was heard. Palmerlee turned to look. So did everyone else.

  There was a rat sitting on the bar. It held two tankards- the ones it had hit together. “In the far corner, weighing in at a combined, fairly respectable weight of 17 stone,” it said. “are the despicable Halflings.” He gestured at them with one of the tankards. Ale sloshed out of it. It took a quick drink. “And in the rest of the bar, weighing in at considerably more, are representatives of various noble races.” The two Half-Orcs nodded in approval at the Rat. “Let’s get reaaaady to ruuummmb...” Suddenly the rat was encased in a solid block of ice.


  “No, let’s not,” said Palmerlee. “Let’s all get out.” He aimed his wand around the room, “After everyone settles their bill, and tips the servers. Heartily.” He shook his head. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

  Most weren’t; it’s why they came to the Tora Mau.

  “Settle up and get out” he said again. He pointed toward the serving wench.

  Dutifully the patrons formed a line that moved past the service wench, the frozen rat, and then snaked up the stairs.

  “We’ll be open again in an hour or so,” Palmerlee assured them as they left. Off the main bar was a storage room filled with spare furniture- it was just a matter of dragging it into place. Since it was light, it would be short work.

  Grimbledung stayed in line and finally made it to the bar. He tried not to make eye contact with his partner. “I guess it’s time to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are we settled up?”

  “With the bar tab. Yes.” Drimblerod grabbed the block of ice that was Rat off the counter. “So all I got to do on this outing was to pee.” He looked at the frozen Rat. “You’re going to carry him home.” He shoved Rat towards Grimbledung. “Have a better evening,” he said to the serving wench.

  “If you please?” Tried Grimbledung with a wink.

  “No.”

  The two Gnomes filed up the stairs with the rest of the patrons.

  “Grimbledung Sixtoes, the next time we go out. When I need to pee, you’re going with.”

  “Ok.” Grimbledung nodded. “I’m real sorry about that. The Halflings started it you know. I was minding my own business...”

  “Not doing anything to nobody,” interjected Drimblerod. He had heard the speech many times.

  “Right! And then all of a sudden, I was in the middle of current events.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll try again tomorrow night,” said Drimblerod as he put his arm on his partner’s shoulder. “Let’s go home and thaw out Rat.”

  “Sure thing. Tomorrow I’ll be on my bestest behavior. I promise,” Grimbledung said as he exhaled. “Then after a quiet evening celebrating tomorrow, we’re on easy street with only the funnest Jamboree in the history of Aution ahead of us!” They turned the corner onto the street their shop was on.

  “Don’t say things like that, Grim,” warned Drimblerod, “that’s usually when things fall apart.”

  “What are you talking about?” Scoffed his partner, “Things are going great. We’re on easy street now. What could go wrong? We’re living on the corner of Easy and Street. See? We’re right there on the corner.” He pointed at their shop.

  Drimblerod ignored the poor geographical reference and cringed. “Really, Grim- don’t tempt Fate like that.” He reached for the handle and opened the door. “It’s not a good idea.”

  Grimbledung waved his hand dismissively, “Fate. I don’t believe in that sort of stuff.” He shook his head at Drimblerod. “Honestly, a smart Gnome like you believing in Fate. You know the old Gnomish Proverb- ‘There is no Fate but what we make for ourselves.’ ”

  Fate, hearing her name several times, swooped down and peeked into the Shoppe to see what was going on. It was otherwise a slow evening in Aution, so Fate was looking for something to pass the time until the war that was brewing along the borders made it to town. It was a slow-brewing war.

  “Fate schmate,” finished Grimbledung. “How about we do a late second lunch? That’s something real I can sink my teeth into.”

  Fate seethed and looked at the edge of Aution. It saw two ragged travelers arguing whether to go left or right a few blocks away. One produced a coin with a flourish, and flipped it. Fate reached out and nudged it to tails- down the road the Wand Shoppe was on. Fate moved across the street and sat down to watch the action. Without realizing it, Fate sat down right beside Destiny. They didn’t notice each other because Destiny was looking the other way through town to a dusty and dirty reptile that was also moving down the street in their general direction. They looked at the shop at the same time and finally noticed each other. They exchanged glares.

  The race was on!