Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 27
~

My pilot was an orc. Gozer would be aghast. She sat on a six-inch bumper-cushion to see out the windshield. Blocks were attached to the peddle-things on the floor so she could reach them. Cute as a bug and twice as friendly. Invited me to sit up front with her, in the council’s little prop plane. I accepted, but as she raced up the runway and the sheer cliff in front of us got oh so much taller every second, I wished I’d sat in the tourist section with the professor, where I would be lookin’ out a side window.

“First time in a puddle jumper?” she asked.

“This big enough to be called a puddle jumper?”

She cackled, turned her teal-blue eyes on me. Unfortunately with the grin, she showed those needle-sharp teeth that otherwise ruined the image I would have liked to keep of her otherwise cuter-than-a-bug face.

Okay. I have my prejudices too. Maybe our tusks aren’t so pretty to her. Though I don’t see how that’s possible.

“We have a six-hour flight,” she said. “So tell me all about yarself.”

“That’ll take ten seconds. Tell me about ya. Be more interesting.” We finally rose above the peak I feared we’d splat into and I took a deep breath. “So how long ya been flyin’ for the council?”

“Oh, first flight,” she said. “Hope to get my license soon, though.”

I began gigglin’ like no ogre I’ve ever heard. Definitely need to send off for one of those DNA kits. After a minute my gut threatened to cramp.

“Really,” she said. “I’ve been readin’ the books.”

Which initiated a new round of giggles. After I calmed, I asked her what holler she lived in. She claimed, the Bronx. So that’s the kind of conversation we were gonna have.

“Yar mama was a daemon,” I suggested, “papa a Norseman.”

“How’d ya know?” she squealed. “After medical school I just couldn’t see reachin’ into people’s brains the rest of my life, so I immigrated to find something different.”

“No proctology for ya, eh?” I asked.

“Oh, I practice that every time one of ya council blokes walk into my office.”

I might ask this hen to be my mate.

“Ya worried about flittin’ around town up there?” she asked.

I waited for the punchline.

“Ya are the terrifyin’ face of the ogre world, after all.”

I asked her, “Why’s that?”

She shot me a, well duh, look. “Every news story about this nonsense uses the shot of yar angry mug and bulgin’ muscles under that sleeveless shirt, that day in the parking lot. Ya looked ready to kill a kitten. Maybe the entire litter.”

There’s a reason I don’t watch TV.

“Most of my flights are south,” she continued. “To Ron d Paul International. Most mucky mucks opt for the three-hour commercial flight up North from there.”

“I’d heard the comedy routine warranted a direct flight.”

“Why don’t ya believe me when I tell ya I don’t have my license?”

“Who says I don’t believe ya?”

“Ya gonna be able to fix any of this nonsense?” she asked.

“Ya’re assumin’ my trip is for that purpose.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

“I’m a proctologist headin’ for a consult.”

She cackled.

~ Nuel ~

Ticked off didn’t describe my emotion when Ike disappeared after he snarfed down a platter of biscuits and gravy. Just said, “See ya later.” I had to learn from Doke at the pavilion that the bull had taken off for my side of the world.

Why wouldn’t he think I might be able to help him up there? It’s my world. I know how things work.

Maybe with luck I’ll never see him again. The jerk.

Why didn’t he tell me he was leaving? Why the secrecy?

Okay. I feel lied to.

Left out like a youngling with no reason to be told.

~