ukDarkhound's Moment of Oddity


[Editor note: Yes, another one of these. This was written on response to a rather unusual post on the Pages of Prophesy message board. I think by the first few lines, you should be able to pick up what happened. Don't take the post too seriously - after all, it was late and who knows what ukDH was smoking that night. :)

Oh, yeah, and I forgot to mention that this post has nothing to do with WoT. It's just another ukDarkhound post that you can chuckle over.]

Twas the witching hour (10.11pm to 11.11pm in England) and ukDH did purvey the board of shared enthusiams and twisted hopes, when he did happen upon a message from the darkside.
"Ooh lookee, a message from hell!" he did say with glee. He pondered why Beezlebub, in his eternal dark wisdom and with his unimaginable soul rending powers, did choose to curse a relatively small band of mortals via an internet mouthpiece.
He shrugged, and decided that such mortals should not try to fathom such mysteries. Perhaps the Lord of Darkness had run out of proper mouthholes, and in desperation turned to an asshole.
"Yet, woe unto us, that we are reminded that we are to die at some undiscernible future moment. Oh such terror. My knees are as water, and mine sphincter doth clench tightly with fear." Sarcasm formed in a pool around his paws.

Seeing that the board was surely doomed under the crushing weight of such a nefarious malediction, ukDH decided to undertake a dangerous magickery of his own.

It was a spell handed down from his forefathers. And they had it from their forefathers. Mathematically speaking, it was handed down from his sixteenth-fathers. Yet it had lost none of it's potency.

Slowly, on a circle of black sand, he drew a four-pointed star. After a moment, he cursed, and erased the shape, before drawing a more customary five-pointed one and muttering about how a square just lacked that certain occultiness. Placing a candle at each apex of the star (this is compulsory, see ''Webster's jumbo book of invocations'' chapter 3.6) he sat cross legged and emptied his mind of thoughts.

Three milli-seconds later, it was empty.

"Under stairs in darkened places."
"wiry haired and crooked faces,"
"sharp lil teeth and pointy eared"
"blue, wet tongue and scratchy beard"

Air moved, a whisper of warning, arcane susurrations breathing promises of mischief.

"hear me little goblins, harken to me."
"see me little goblins, cursed and blessed."
"answer little goblins, hear our plea."
"sweet little goblins, manifest!''

Again, the air moved, caressing his face with damp fingers, carrying obscure fragrances from a far off places. Idly, he wished he'd never eaten beans for dinner that night. It's difficult to summon Goblins with dignity, when one keeps extinguishing candles with flatulence.

Yet, abruptly, out of the darkness from behind the refridgerator, baleful green glimmers shone momentarily. Refulgent with an odd mixture of glee, half-hearted malice, and timid intelligence, they blinked... once, twice... Uk's own percipience attuned to the gloom, until he could descry a small hunched figure staring back with those emerald eyes, like a child of Chernobyl.
"Are you a Goblin?" he asked. "No, I'm just cleaning my fur!" came the reply. Throaty chuckles rasped in the silence, little more than manic whispers.
Uk was unpeturbed. "How are you named?"
"Me parents picked a word when I was spawned, by which I would be known henceforth." It answered cleverly.
"No, I meant, what is your name?"
"S'right! Pleased to meet ya, Guv."
"What?"
"Yes?"
Hound's thoughts turned to mush and dripped out of his ears for a moment, until he managed to wrestle order from the chaos of this post.
"Okay, I get it. your name is actually 'What'."
"Quit askin! I just told ya." "Okay, I'll cut to the point. I, along with a number of other surfers, have been cursed by Satan's asshole."
"I know, we can smell ya from 'ere!" said What the Goblin. Which lead to a cacophany of quiet snickers behind the fridge.
"How many you got behind there, exactly?"
"Just me and me four brothers. Why, Who, When and How. Cousin Hob couldn't make it unfortunately."
"Are five of you enough to counter a curse from Hell?"
"No-one can counter Celine Dion. She's unstoppable, mate."
"No, I refer to the intruder on the board."
"Intruder? Coz he got In-tru-der browser?" Five little buggers laughed raucously at the pun.
"Look, you're meant to obey me. I summoned you!"
"Oh yeah, we saw. Didn't you draw a sqaure first?"
Despite himself, Uk blushed. "Well, it's my first time."
"Thought it might be. I said to How, I said 'Uh oh, virgin invoker alert! I bet he does all the big long flashy rhyming version. Sure sign of an amateur!' Didn't I How?"
"But you need the rhyme!"
"Who says? Course you don't, you daft git. Once you got a FIVE-pointed star, you can just shout 'Come out, ya buggers!' and we'll appear!" corrected What.
"Alright!" snapped ukDH. "Just tell me, can you help with the curse or not? Are we gonna die anytime soon?"
"Well, put it this way," said What, scratching an armpit with a bored look on his ugly little features. "Any one that's read this post is automatically protected."
"Really?"
"Sure!" added What the goblin. "After all, if they've tolerated this slab of idiocy thus far without losing their mind or will to live, there isn't anything in Hell that can touch 'em."

And with that, the Goblins disappeared with a plap. (a sound much like a plop, only more Goblin-like and fun to type)

Thus were the brave folk of PoP protected permanently from the purile pronouncements of pre-pubessant pipsqueaks.

~ukDarkHound I made this.