(no subject)

[jholloway.livejournal.com]

They sent me dang old Showbiz again. I hate this guy. Guardian Warlock, slicker than owl shit and completely convinced that anything he doesn't know ain't worth knowing. Penthesilea came with him. One of those Mysterymen treasure hunters; outdoorsy type. I have kind of a little crush on her. I don't tell her that kind of thing, of course; she wouldn't look twice at a backward-ass redneck country mage like me.

"The goddamn Stephensport Lizard Man?" I says when they told me.

"We believe it may be an unrecognised cryptid."

"And it has to be covered if it is," Showbiz puts in.

"Thanks, Ivy League," I says to him, "if you hadna pointed that out, I wouldna known. They don't tell you that kinda thing in Arrow school; we mostly practice hittin' shit with clubs."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is the damn Stephensport Lizard Man don't exist and never has. It's just a whatchacall old wives' tale."

"Like vampires?"

"Not like fuckin' vampires, which are as real as you or me. It's ... aw, hell. Y'all won't listen until you see for yourselves."

So here we are stomping around the damn backwoods of Breckinridge County. You can see the ass-end of nowhere from here, and I'm talkin' back in the direction of civilisation. The two of them in their North Face outfits are chanting up a storm, scrying the area up and down and coming up with nothing at all. I am tryin' not to laugh or say anything.

"I'm getting no spiritual activity outside of normal parameters," Penthesilea says with this puzzled look that's totally adorable, or at least it would be if it weren't so fuckin' infuriating.

"Well, goldurn it, it's a good thing you guys came all the way out here to find that out instead of, I don't know, listening to the shaman or anything."

And, OK, I'm not proud of this next bit, because it's while I'm havin' my little laugh at their expense that the damn Stephensport Lizard Man just rears up out of nowhere and trucks Showbiz into a tree. My hand to god, one minute he wasn't there and the next he was.

"The hell?!" That's my contribution to the discussion right there.

"I thought you said there were no odd life signs!" Showbiz says, which is pretty good presence of mind for a feller just got whumped into a tree and probably has a couple of broken bones.

"There weren't!" Penny and I say together.

Well, OK, I said "wasn't". But it's true. First thing we checked.

The Lizard Man's circling. Heavy muscle, long alligator-snout, quick little eyes. Seven foot maybe, seven-six. Body like you didn't know dinosaurs did steroids. Growling and hissing, the whole bit.

"Switchyard, do something!"

And I sink down into my life pattern, turning my hands into claws as the critter gets closer to me.

"Yup," I say, looking at the strings of half-rotten flesh hanging from this thing's mouth. Not gator. Komodo, maybe. "Well ... hell, he don't look so big."

Comments

[kathminchin.livejournal.com]

Awesome

[akonken.livejournal.com]

That's fantastic!

[sl4irl.livejournal.com]

Genius. :D