Even the chickens wait silently for Mrs. Threadgood to make up her mind about the imps.
She stands still for a mont, her careworn but still pleasant face betraying nothing. Then, she approaches the lead imp with businesslike steps.
"You. What is your na?"
"Dex," the lead imp replies. "This is my clan. They will behave for now."
The other imps grumble, but they apparently know better than to contradict Dex. As one, they bow. I have to bite back a laugh, because it’s funny to see these miscreants suddenly becoming polite and ek.
"Dex." Mrs. Threadgood curtsies. "My na is Elsie Threadgood. Now, I don’t mind giving second chances, and maybe even third chances, but I like to see people making an effort to do better. You understand, don’t you?"
"I think so," Dex replies.
Briskly, Mrs. Threadgood explains, "When you and your clan acted up before, it upset the chickens. They hate that. And the cows couldn’t give milk. They don’t like that very much. And I couldn’t get my produce to market because I didn’t have any. That doesn’t make my custors or very happy."
"We didn’t an any harm," Dex says, holding up his hands. "Only you didn’t listen to us."
Another brave imp speaks up. "You just kept on working. No rest. No fun."
Now that I’m seeing these little imps, I realize that I encountered them in the ga when I played in my human life...
* * * * *
THREE MONTHS AGO
Damon shakes his head when I click my mouse and select "Attack". His scowl would do justice to our parents.
"Big mistake, bro."
"Okay, Dad," I quip. "Relax. This is an easy win. Leveling up is the na of the ga."
"Actually, it rewards strategy and problem-solving, too," he answers.
I scoff. "Yeah, but not as fast."
He pops so spicy potato sticks in his mouth and crunches disapprovingly. "If I were your law school professors, I’d flunk you for that kind of thinking."
I want to point out that he wouldn’t be caught dead in law school because it would be too much like what our parents want. However, I’m too focused on the ga.
Onscreen, my tiger pounces, shooting glowing digital stars. Digital fire and explosions. The imps scream. "AAH!"
A dialogue bubble appears, and one of the imps says, "We just wanted to have fun. To teach you how to play."
I keep shooting stars, racking up points, until the imps are all gone and my tiger is halfway to leveling up. Pumping my fist in the air, I feel an ache in my heart. Probably a pulled muscle from the gym.
Damon shakes his head, sorrowful. "You’re going to find out that the ga isn’t fooling."
I snort. "Whatever. It’s just a ga."
"Then why do you look like this?" He imitates my resting serious face. "You look like this ga is life or death."
"Co on. Of course I know it’s not."
He shakes his head. "I don’t know, bro. I worry about you. You don’t seem like yourself."
"I’m good. Really." I brush off his concern. "But what about you? Gone on any dates recently?"
It’s a cheap deflection, and I know it.
Damon’s face registers hurt, and he throws aside the ga controller. "I’m just trying to help. You don’t want my help, fine. I’ll never say anything to you again."
"Damon. Don’t be so sensitive."
He leaps up, eyes blazing. "Just so you know, you can fool Mom and Dad, but I know you."
Oh no. I’ve gone too far. Even if Damon is overreacting, I should probably fix this before it turns into a full-blown fight. I can just hear Mom and Dad: "Look out for your little brother."
Getting up, I hold up my hands in surrender. "I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything. Please. I really want to continue playing."
For a mont, he lets suffer. Then, he shrugs. "I wanted to see you grovel a bit more, but you look like a sad puppy. How can I say no?"
We both sit back down and continue the gaplay as if nothing happened. However, his eyes track my movents, and even though I’m closer to leveling up, I feel as if I’ve missed so critical opportunity. That’s ridiculous, right? It’s just a ga.
The next session, the farr loses her farm because she’s too sick to work anymore, and the farm is sold to soone that no one likes, and who is an to my character and the beast taming family. I miss the old farr. But it’s just a ga.
* * * * *
PRESENT
I re-focus. Mrs. Threadgood is talking to the imps, especially Dex.
"You hire help," Dex reminds her. "Good help."
Mrs. Threadgood blushes, her suntanned careworn face turning red. "Yes, my farmhands are very capable. But it’s my farm, you see. Mr. Threadgood wanted to keep it up. And it’s been in my family forever. If we’d had children, I suppose it would be different."
Dex nods, as if he understands. Maybe he does. "But you are this farm."
"They’re right," Kaline comnts. "Everyone in the village knows you work the hardest, and you grow the best produce and the freshest eggs."
The hens cluck as if they understand, which they do. Of course, they’re disgruntled at hearing a human woman be praised for sothing that they alone do, to wit, laying eggs.
"I an you sell the freshest eggs, of course," Kaline corrects herself with a blush. "But the chickens lay the eggs because they like being here."
I nudge Kaline. [Tell her that if she gets sick and can’t work the farm, soone else might buy it, and they wouldn’t treat the hens as kindly as she does.]
Kaline recites what I told her to say, in her own words, of course.
Paling, Mrs. Threadgood sinks to the ground. "I never thought of that. Soone else buying my farm? That is the last thing I want."
"Us too." Dex ambles over, still a little sore and stiff from landing on him. Patting Mrs. Threadgood’s arm, he says, "We like you. We don’t want another farr."
She blows her nose with a hospun handkerchief. "Thank you. But how can I run my farm with the ground all wrecked?"
A rough, an woman’s voice interjects, and Mrs. Threadgood tenses up. "Well, well. Seems like the reports of trouble on this farm don’t lie."
Kaline recognizes the voice, and her anger hits like a broadsword through the bond. "NO. Not her."
I rotate around, ready to pounce, and see a haughty woman built like a barrel. Not that Mrs. Threadgood is any pin-thin woman, but she’s healthy. This an woman just looks like a tank.
"Jessamyn Wheelwright," Mrs. Threadgood says, the words like the crack of a whip. "Have you got business on my farm?"
Smug, Jessamyn Wheelwright looks like the kind of person who likes stomping on flowers, juts because. "I’m aiming to buy your farm cheap."
"You get out," Kaline shouts. "I can have my parents here in no ti. We get all our eggs and produce from Mrs. Threadgood. You leave her alone."
That’s my Kaline. A friend is always a friend in her eyes. And I’d like to see this woman try to throw her considerable weight around with Minette and Lamant.
Mrs. Wheelwright’s smug face falters, but she quickly recovers. "Run back ho, girl, and play with your little kitten." She gives the stink-eye.
Little kitten, am I?
[Kaline. Say the word and I’ll chase her away.]
Kaline doesn’t even bother answering . "Blaze. ATTACK."
NOW my attacking can be put to good use.
Before Mrs. Wheelwright can open her venomous mouth to say sothing, I use my Super Jump power to spring at her.
The imps jump after , enraged. They screech in their Impish language, a battle cry. I don’t understand the words, and the language makes my ears bleed, but I grasp the aning.
Mrs. Wheelwright is going down.
The imps grab onto Mrs. Wheelwright with their grubby, greedy hands. They claw, pinch, and squeeze, while I poke her with my claws. Her shrieks split the air. Then, the chickens join in, pecking and clawing. Even the sleepy cat and dragonet contribute.
"GET THEM OFF ! GET THEM OFF !"
Flailing, floundering, she can’t shake us loose. In fact, her shape hinders her, because there is more of her to grab onto. She’s going to look like a bruised pincushion tomorrow.
"NO MORE! NO MORE! I’M BEGGING YOU!"
Mrs. Threadgood whistles sharply, and we all freeze, our attack on pause.
"That’ll do," Mrs. Threadgood says, quiet triumph in her voice. "Leave off."
Reluctantly, I leap down and stand glaring at Mrs. Wheelwright. The imps and chickens also co back down and band together like a miniature army. The cat and Butterbur the dragonet also stand up to her. The farm hands have co running with pitchforks and shovels. Kaline joins them, a look of vindication on her face. Finally, Mrs. Threadgood stands nose to nose with her forr enemy.
"I wouldn’t co back here again if I were you," Kaline tells Mrs. Wheelwright. "It’s going to be even worse for you next ti, because my parents will be waiting. And so will my beast, and the imps, and the chickens. The cows and pigs might join in next ti."
Mrs. Wheelwright has nothing to say to that. Whirling around, she stomps away from the farm.
Cheers erupt from the imps, the chickens, the dragonet, and the farm hands.
[Side Quest Completed. Blaze XP 5.]
Mrs. Threadgood turns to Dex. "Now I think we should talk about you and your imps staying on this farm. After we clean up this ss."
Damon, I wish you could see this right now. Maybe you are. I finally learned my lesson.
Suddenly, I feel faint...
"JOSH! JOSH! Can you hear ?"
That’s my mother’s voice. My real mother. What is happening?
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