Panting, he shoved a sofa against the door with his foot. He lumbered to the window and flailed at the window latch.
Screaming outside gave way to cheers. "Elephant gun!"
Oh, crap. Attending the Adventuring Guild's party in a velociraptor suit had been a really bad idea.
He chugged his ale. "Learning a new master's foibles is tricky. This guy is only up at night, and he wouldn't let me put up a mirror. How'm I supposed to look the part?"
His drinking buddy silently shrugged, inspecting the razor-edged brim of his bowler hat.
"Wrap in wax paper. Store in a cool dry place." Ethel looked up from the page and smirked.
Gerda scowled at her wriggling, whining sack. "Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. It worked perfectly well on the gingerbread, didn't it?"
Years after his abrupt disappearance, a letter arrived. It simply read, "Don't pine for me."
My spine chilled. Not only at the knowledge of my new address, but it must have been sent from beyond the grave.
I should know.
An acrid odour permeated the museum. Using a silk cloth, he polished the display cabinet's glass. He frowned. The neatly pinned exhibits were in disarray, and that ugly crumpled egg-case didn't belong.
The lights flickered, as if obscured by the beat of giant wings.
The warrior dismounted and opened the saddlebags. "Split three ways?"
"No way. I took the greatest risk," said the thief.
"Huh," said the mage. "Do you know how much Haze of Invisibility components cost?"
"Guys, I get the casting vote," said the horse, bolting.
He gazed moodily into his empty bowl. "The ambrosia you get these days is nothing like when I was young. My joints ache and my sight's going."
"Sorry to hear that," murmured his ancient slave, admiring his newly youthful face in the mirror.
A murmur from the next carrel interrupts my reverie. I scowl at my weighty tome.
Low giggles give way to rustling sounds.
Enough!
I lean round the partition. "Will you be—Ooh, do you have any coconut ones?"
The splattered mess turned his stomach, as did the visceral smell. He began to sweat. A whisper of shame berated him. This wasn't his first, and a veteran should cope better.
He carefully reached out. "C'mon, munchkin. Nappy change time, then I'll clean up."
Hunting horns blare. You dart behind a tree. A snarling beast lopes nearer, six riders in pursuit.
Panic grips you—
Your eyes flick open. The bedroom is dark. Your gasps ease. What a vivid dream.
A horn toots. You flinch. It's only a car.
Hot breath puffs in your ear.
"... speak now, or forever—"
"Stop!"
In the deathly silence, a pregnant woman marched down the aisle.
The groom gaped. "Who...?"
Once nearer, the intruder blushed. "Oh, sorry. Wrong church. Ahem. OK Google, take me to the other cheating bastard's wedding..."
Gliding through the doorway, the spy peered into the darkness. There! The man stroking the long-haired white cat. How clichéd. One bullet left. He took aim.
A claw pricked his calf. With a yelp, he dropped the gun.
"Another one?" purred the boss.