Goblin

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by Ever Dundas


  We rescued as many as we could. It was our job, me and Monsta, and we worked round the clock.

  Sneaking done and dusted our work was still tick-tock tick-tock all hours, feeding, rehoming, taking them to the vet and I couldn’t even pay the bills. I couldn’t trust those vets, those no-money-no-way vets who would ‘dispose’ of my rescued pets. I found a vet I could trust with their lives and who would patch up any old beast for me but then the family got too big and chaotic and there was a complete lack of harmonious niceties when cats screeched and scratched and dogs chased the chickens. All this only went and caused more trips to the vets and a hardship of looking out and keeping them apart and inspecting every room and every creature and feeding them all and cleaning up shit and dirt and stink and there I was all collapsed exhausted, no longer able to stand up and call myself a bomb-defying rescuer, instead I was a shit-wallowing stinker.

  I had to reduce the family, so I went on a mission, going round the neighbourhood to rehome them. I’d go round every room, inspecting as any good inspector would, making sure their home would suit the cat or the dog or the bird or the rabbit, and I rat-tat-rattled through my list of questions keeping the sharpest of eyes out for any suspicious motives.

  ‘Sir,’ I said to one shifty-looking neighbour, ‘you thinking of boiling this dog in some stew? I can see it in your eyes – “this fella would be damn tasty with our potatoes.” Don’t lie to me, sir.’

  I didn’t have much time for the animal charities. I didn’t like being ordered around and I didn’t like how many animals they killed. Our Dumb Friends’ League really got my goat.

  ‘What’s dumb about ’em?’ I said to that trusty old vet. ‘Humans are dumber if you ask me.’

  ‘It’s because they can’t speak, Goblin,’ he explained to me, like I was dumb.

  ‘They can speak,’ I said. ‘They never shut up. I’m lucky if I get a good night’s sleep. Just cos they can’t talk English like we do, people think they’re stupid.’

  ‘Goblin, it’s about their lack of voice. It’s so that we have some compassion and speak up on their behalf.’

  ‘What right do we have to speak for them? If I couldn’t speak, I wouldn’t want someone pretending to say things for me like they’d even know what I’d say without even asking.’

  ‘You do it every day. You do exactly that.’

  I scowled at him and said, ‘I’m just trying to give them a good life.’

  I couldn’t take them home anymore. I couldn’t keep them, my neighbours couldn’t take them, the charity homes were all filled up. If they were injured I’d get the trusty vet to patch ’em up, feed ’em, then send them on their way. If they were uninjured I’d feed them and just let them be. The house was packed full and the ration books stretched as far as they’d go. I was twitchy as hell – there were fines for feeding animals food fit for human bellies, so I pretended like I had hardly any animals to anyone who asked. I’d keep them all in the house during the day, only letting them out in the garden at night so the neighbours wouldn’t see how many I had. I told the neighbours I hardly had to feed those chickens at all, as they’d hoover up the garden insects and Groo caught mice and rats. Mostly the neighbours let me be, but I still worried I’d be reported to the authorities by some nosey busybody.

  I had a veg patch in the garden to bring in extra food. It took a good few months, but I was proud as proud could be when it turned out so well I was able to sell some and I got more money to help look after the family.

  But I was worried and I was tired.

  *

  I kept on busking with the chickens and one day a soldier came up to me after our show and took hold of my hand. I frowned at him and was about to punch him when he pressed money into my hand and squeezed my fingers round it. He stood for a moment, just looking at me.

  ‘Are you here every day?’

  ‘Most days,’ I said.

  He let go of my hand and wandered off into the crowd. I opened my hand to find I was rich. ‘Jesus,’ I said, ‘That’ll feed us all for two weeks, maybe more. What’s his game?’

  There was no need for another show that day so I packed up. We needed a rest and it meant we could go home and be content and maybe practice a new routine for when we needed to get back to work. As I was packing some idiot tried to run off with Billy Bones, but she pecked the hell out of him and Dr Kemp got under his feet and flapped and screeched and I yelled ‘Murder! Murder!’ and everyone turned to see what was going on. When they saw what was happening they gave the thief a hard time and he ran off, embarrassed.

  I was so angry and scared I was almost sick. We’d had people try to steal the chickens before, but this was the closest it came to losing one of them, and the thought of losing Billy Bones or Dr Kemp had me in a sweat, so I explained to them on the train home that our performance days were over.

  ‘You’ll stay at home,’ I said, ‘and I’ll make my own routine. I’ll be a clown, I’ll use ma’s old make-up and I’ll make my own clothes, and you’ll all be safe at home.’

  That’s what I did. I only went exploring with Monsta after that, and I let the chickens out into the garden at night so they could get their worms and all the neighbours were hidden away in their houses on account of the blackout so they wouldn’t think to try and kidnap my family and put them in their bellies.

  ‘You can’t trust humans,’ I said to the chickens. ‘Apart from me, but I’m part-goblin so I don’t count.’ Then I thought of the man who’d given us all that money and I said to myself, ‘What’s his game?’

  I thought how it would be good if I had a performance partner, but I didn’t have anyone. Miss Campbell wouldn’t have time and I didn’t think she’d want to anyway. I knew David would have done it, but he was gone. Maybe he’d gone to the sea like I had. Maybe he escaped to the sea and he was swimming with a girl just like I did, and maybe he’ll come back just like I did. I had to earn money and feed the family and get money for rent if I ended up needing it, so that I can be here, waiting for David. If he were here I know for sure he’d come busking with me. But he wasn’t here and I needed a partner in busking, and it was then I found the Lizard King.

  *

  ‘Get lost, ya wee cunt.’

  A pale orb emerged from the darkness. It moved closer and I raised my torch, the features falling into place. His skin was white. His lips were shrivelled, dry and cracking. I expected his lizard tongue to flick out and taste me. His eyes were as black as the tunnel. Silver rivulets were painted on his cheeks, flowing from his eyes down to his neck. They shimmered in the torchlight.

  ‘Hail thee, O Lizard King.’

  I prostrated myself before him.

  ‘This is ma spot, ya wee cunt.’

  I looked up, squinting. His face was right next to mine, the stench of his breath intolerable.

  ‘I dinnae ken what yer game is, but ye can get!’

  ‘Mr Lizard King, sir, I’ve come to live with the lizard people.’

  He snatched my torch and shone it in my face.

  ‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘Used to run wild, you and two others. Right little cunts ya were.’

  I shielded my eyes from the light and sat up.

  ‘Mr Fenwick?’

  ‘Ye cannae live wi me. This is ma spot. Where’s yer ma and pa?’

  ‘Gone.’

  ‘That right?’

  I’d heard about what happened to Mr Fenwick from Miss Campbell. He was too old to serve, so he stayed living on our street but he’d been bombed out, his face scarred by the blast so he looked just like the Lizard King who’d lost his queen and cried tears of acid that burned away his skin.

  ‘I have Groo,’ I said.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Your cat.’

  ‘Issatright? She still alive? Wily wee thing.’

  ‘She misses Devil and Corporal Pig, but I look after her. She chews on my hair.’

  ‘She always wis an odd one. I expect ma chickens are long gone by now.’

&nb
sp; ‘They’re alive and well, Mr Fenwick, sir. They live with me.’

  ‘Ye ’ave a habit of kidnapping people’s animals?’

  ‘They were on their own. I rescued them and they’re my family now.’

  ‘Family, eh? They’d be better off in your belly. Or in mine.’

  ‘They’re not going in anyone’s belly. I’m looking after them and I’ll guard them with my life.’

  He eyed me.

  ‘Aye, well, ye better be getting back to ’em then.’

  I looked round and said, ‘What you doing down here in the tunnels, Mr Fenwick?’

  ‘It’s ma home.’

  ‘You seen any lizard people?’

  He pushed me and said, ‘Get lost like I told ye.’

  ‘I brought you offerings,’ I said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Offerings… for the Lizard King. You may as well have ’em.’

  I poured the offerings on the ground and he rummaged through them. He sat chewing on some bread. I took my torch back and looked around. It was a dump. Junk everywhere, and a makeshift bed.

  ‘I’m the Lizard King,’ he said. I shone the torch in his eyes. ‘And we dinnae like light,’ he said, putting his arm across his face.

  I lowered the torch.

  ‘You’re no Lizard King. You’re just Mr Fenwick.’

  ‘That’s ma pseudonym, lad. No one wants tae think their neighbour’s a lizard person, eh?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I accept yer offering,’ he said, sweeping all the food into an old box by his bed. ‘But what Lizard Kings really like is cigarettes. Ye can get some of those, can’t ye?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Get, then. I’ll see ye the morn.’

  I made my way out of the tunnels, Queen Isabella, Amelia and Scholler guiding me back.

  ‘That man was definitely not a king,’ said Isabella. ‘There isn’t an ounce of royal blood in him, lizard or not.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, ‘it was just Mr Fenwick, but—’

  But he could be the Lizard King if I wanted him to be. He could be my partner in busking: The Lizard King and Goblin of the Realm Below. We’d dazzle the crowds, that was certain.

  *

  He mostly said nothing. I’d give him food and cigarettes and he’d eat and smoke and shoo me out with a gesture, but I’d stay and talk and tell him my plans for us both.

  ‘I like your face,’ I said one time. He looked like he would stab me with his fork but he kept eating and I kept talking. I told him who he was. I knew what I was doing – seducing him with a new identity, a new way of being in the realm above.

  ‘I’m Goblin-runt born blue,’ I said. ‘And you’re the Lizard King. You cried tears of acid for your loved one who died in the realm above and now you hide away, but I’ll take you above and tell your story. People will love your story,’ I said. ‘I’ll paint you green and people will love you. I’ll tell your story and people will love me. We’ll make a fortune.’

  He chewed and he smoked, not even looking at me.

  ‘A fortune?’ he said.

  ‘We’ll dazzle ’em!’

  *

  We were an instant hit.

  Sitting underground, piled on top of each other, both scared and bored all at once, everyone appreciated a distraction.

  ‘Roll up! Roll up!’ I yelled, ‘Come see the tragic Lizard King of the Realm Below.’

  In my da’s old coat I was disappeared but for my fingertips and my monster head made out of bits cut from ma’s nightdress. I’d cut out holes for my eyes but they were squint, my face all lopsided with a huge clown grin scrawled across with lipstick. My short hair stuck out all angles in-between the bits of bunched up wool I’d tied into it and all the Lizard King had to say was that we were supposed to be entertaining people not scaring the holy bejeesus out of them. What do you know, Lizard King old man all hiding in your cave? I clutched a stick, holding it aloft, shuffling toward him all clumsy in da’s old shoes. I’d tied Monsta to the stick, my trusty companion in entertainment. I’m being mysterious, I said to that Lizard King. People will be all interested in us in their curiosity. Lizard King stood looking uncomfortable in a smart-as-can-be dinner jacket I scavenged from a bombsite, his face all painted green apart from his scars. He nudged me out the way and looked in the mirror.

  ‘We look a right coupla cunts.’

  ‘We’ll be an instant hit,’ I said and handed him the mask I’d made him.

  We were already in the Underground as the bombs fell and the crowds gathered.

  ‘Roll up! Roll up!’

  People shuffled over, gathering round, mumbling grumbling, what’s all this then what’s he supposed to be some sort of clown you from the circus let’s see a trick then!

  ‘I’ll tell you a story,’ I said. ‘The tragic true story of the Lizard King.’

  What’d he say a story about the king sshh!

  ‘Underground,’ I said, pausing, ‘underground is where the lizard people live.’

  Lizard people what a loada bollocks shut up let ’im tell the damn story will ya.

  ‘Underground is where the Lizard King lives and he shoots poison from his eyes. There was one time he cried when he was in human form and his skin peeled away as if burned by acid.’

  I dragged my fingers down my masked face.

  What kinda story is this lizards and poison nonsense he’ll scare the wee uns shut up I wanna hear the rest shut up will you?

  ‘When it healed, he had silver scars from his eyes to the corners of his mouth, to his chin. Half of his lower lip was burned away.’

  What made the Lizard King cry yeah why’d the sissy lizard cry anyway shut up sshh!

  ‘The Lizard King cried because of the Lizard Queen.’

  It’s always some woman’s fault hahaa yeah shut up already or I’ll shut you up.

  ‘The Lizard Queen had gone to the Realm Above, the realm where you and I live and work and play. The lizard people can take on human form and walk amongst us.’

  My landlord’s a lizard person that’s for sure ssh! all cold hearted shut up as cold as can be shh let her finish!

  ‘The Lizard Queen was in the Realm Above and a human man fell in love with her. He kept her in the Realm Above beyond the witching hour and she became trapped in human form. She could no longer descend to the Realm Below. The only signs left she was a lizard person were her red glinting eyes and her shimmering skin. When people saw her they thought her eyes and skin were made of jewels and they turned mad with greed. They thought if they plucked out her eyes and picked the jewels from her skin they’d be rich. So they plucked out her eyes but they were only eyes and they ripped at her shimmering skin but it was only skin. The Lizard King came to the Realm Above to search for his queen and that was the one time the Lizard King cried. He hunted down every person responsible for the Lizard Queen’s death and he plucked out their eyes the way they’d plucked out hers and he skinned them alive the way they’d skinned her. From each person he kept a token and he strung the body parts in his palace and lived the rest of his days in mourning.’

  Throat clearing and shuffling and grumbling and what kind of story is that horrible disgusting it’s a parable like Jesus tells what does it mean it means don’t be a greedy bastard doesn’t mean nuthin pile of nonsense thought he was a clown do some tricks it means don’t steal people’s eyes that’s the moral of the story don’t steal no no no it’s don’t judge by appearances don’t covet someone else’s Lizard Queen do some tricks make us laugh what kinda clown are you anyway?

  ‘This,’ I said, talking over them, ‘This is the Lizard King.’

  What was that what’d he say shut up I can’t hear he said that’s the Lizard King.

  ‘This,’ I said again, ‘is the Lizard King.’

  They all turned and stared at old Mr Fenwick who’d been all hunched up swamped by the dinner jacket, hidden by the mask. He stood up all tall and slowly slowly slowly just like we practiced raised his hand t
o the mask and now no one was talking you could hear the bombs dropping ping ping up above all held their breath as his bony green hand clasped at the mask and slowly slowly slowly just like we’d practiced he lowered it. His eyes were closed. I’d painted red lizard eyes on his eyelids, the rest of his face painted green but the scars, the silver-red scars weaving down his face from his eyes like tears. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd.

  My god it’s true a lizard he’s scarred look he’s scarred from his tears half lizard half human it’s true my god don’t be silly it’s a story he cried for his loved one it’s sad so sad just a story a good story it is poor old lizard man.

  People jostled, trying to see.

  What happened what really happened that poor man daddy is his skin really green it’s just a story am I a lizard mummy I want to be a lizard.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman! We are the Lizard King and Goblin of the Realm Below, and we thank you!’ We both bowed, and I took my gas mask through the crowd, seeking pennies, sweets, and cigarettes.

  I was proud of our success so I wrote to Angel to tell her all about it. She’d sent a few more postcards asking for news, worried I’d been hurt in the bombs, so I finally told her I was okay, just busy because I’d met the Lizard King and we were professional performers now, doing lots of shows, bringing in the money for my family. I didn’t hear back for a while, then she wrote that she was glad I was happy and she was happy too and she’d been going to the beach with her boyfriend and swimming in the sea with him all summer. I read it over and over before dropping it in the rubbish. I tore up all her other postcards and punched and kicked the wall, frightening Billy Bones who’d been scratching around in the leaves I’d collected for the chickens. He clucked and ran into the hallway and I collapsed into the leaves and stared at my scuffed knuckles. Angel wrote to me twice after that, but I didn’t read her postcards. I never wrote to her again.

 

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