Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 5
~

The sun had been on the eggs for a few hours by the time I got to them. The water hose did nothing. Neither did my little pressure washer, which shocked me. The yucky slime just grinned back. I took a bucket of warm water, dish detergent, and the bristle brush I use on the bathroom tile to the mean globs of goo.

Now ogres don’t complain much about havin’ to apply a little muscle grease, but these dozen eggs were ridiculous. If I ever catch the dinks that did this I’ll rip their hides off. The protein in the eggs did something to the paint. Darkened it. I will kill.

I was straightenin’ my back from my toilin’ when Nuel strode toward me. She wore a simple summer sweater that molded to her generous contours, and a fairly traditional, breezy white cotton skirt that floated almost to her ankles. Her feet were bare, which gave me a bit of a smile.

“So ya got inside.”

“Aye,” I said. Must have stood too fast, because stars danced around her face for a moment. Whew. “Security company was able to port into my system.”

Her eyes were locked into the gloom of my garage. “Ya ride.” Folk do stare at my wheels. They’re awesome. Bad to the bone. That thought embarrassed me. I offered her a, yes ma’am.

“My papa did too, until he left half of his skin on the highway, twenty years ago.”

“The OI platform is a lot more stable for us,” I said.

“Oh, Papa was on an Ogre Industries bike.”

Hmm. It took a lot to take an OI to the asphalt. And they’re expensive enough a two-wheel enthusiast isn’t likely to take a lot of chances with them, for the most part. Not anyone I would ride with. But maybe a blind idjit took a left in front of him. That kills a lot of riders.

“At least ya have something to drive in the rain.” She was checkin’ out the Green Hornet, my retro-lookin’ OI pickup. She said I must like my OI products.

Weird statement. “They are built for our statures.”

“And Ogre Industries makes sure no one competes with them.”

Oh stink. One of those. A self-hater. I see enough loathin’ from humans I don’t need to put up with it from one of us. “Been nice talkin’ with ya, but I got to get a move on. Got stuff—”

“Aw, did I insult yar ogreness?” she drawled.

I held my eye on her an extra moment, before I bent to collect the bucket, which I emptied in the grass.

“Don’t worry,” she continued. “I only came out here to shut Silva up.” She twisted around and headed back to the neighbors’.

To shut Silva up?

Oh. Match makin’. Yeah. I’ve survived enough of that too. A smile broke out as I finished rollin’ the hose and headed for the garage. Mama goes on about me being a bachelor within three seconds of me enterin’ her front door. As do my brothers and sister. I like my bachelorhood. Prolly a little like Nuel. No reason to ruin perfection.

I cleaned up a bit, before ridin’ my bike down to the electronics store. I returned home after droppin’ a few hundred more Continentals than I expected, on cameras that would take in more of the property than necessary. If anyone prowled the back, or up or down the street, they’d be recorded for prosecution.

Really don’t like scrubbin’ scrambled eggs off the house.

Spent the remainder of the day installin’ the new stuff. I don’t get enough time to do that kind of thing, usin’ my hands. But I could have done without all the twistin’ of itty bitty wires and screws meant to be worked by orcs or very patient humans. But I didn’t cut any corners, like a subcontractor might have, so the sun had been down a while by the time I was settlin’ my ladder in the garage.

Headlights pullin’ into the drive drew me back outside, a tired Sissy sloggin’ behind me. She had a tough day watchin’ me work. I groaned a bit on the inside to find Gozer gettin’ out of his OI pickup, last year’s model, a nice, rounded, red beast, step-up sides, and whitewalls. Always have liked that look. The red clashed a little with his purple suit. My opinion.

He stepped back a bit toward the street, eyes clearly tracin’ over my afternoon handiwork.

“Ya’re worried about the new neighbors too, huh?” he grumbled.

Hmm. “No. I’m worried about stupid teenagers chuckin’ eggs at my house.”

“A double load of rocksalt will fix that.”

“And get me sued for a million bucks.”

He laughed. “At least ya’re good for it.”

Oh, stink. Already.

“The mate called, told me ya were hangin’ off the side of yar house tryin’ to kill yarself.” He pulled off his chartreuse necktie which he folded over his shoulder. “Ya did a nice job. Four cameras?”

“Eight,” I answered. “Covered every inch of the back too.”

“Smart ogre,” he mumbled. “I think I have my own project for the weekend, what with whatever rude beast has moved in next door.”

His use of the B word struck me. Our kind had worked many a generation to squash the use of the word. Now giants are usin’ the word? What did he think moved in next door?

“Sorry,” he muttered, and looked down at the pavers. “Poor choice of words. So—” He blurted the single syllable hard, as though really interested in changin’ topics. “What does a bachelor do in such a big place, anyhow?”

I couldn’t help grinnin’. I had bought four lots to build my place on, my dream home. Am proud of it. Fits me to a tee. No one but my basketball buddies, or Darshee and Wizper, have ever been inside, excludin’ family, of course. Family always likes to converge on the youngest born.

“Ya like the two cent tour?” I asked Gozer.

“Always have been curious, since the walls started to go up. Didn’t look like any residential place I’ve ever seen. Though lookin’ at the front all finished up, appears like any other mansion ya’d find in the big city.

No mansion. Why the rich man remarks? Feelin’ snarky this afternoon, maybe. I strode away from him, but wafted my hand in invitation.

After Sissy put the troll through a serious sniff test, we entered through the laundry room, into my modest kitchen and dining area. Gozer looked unimpressed until he followed me into the back, which is a three story, giant-dimensioned, full basketball court, sided completely by glass on the east, facin’ the pool, and the plains reserve.

The faux bedroom windows facin’ the street north and south on the false-front, second and third floors, allows a lot of nice natural light in.

“Wow.” He walked to the rack holdin’ the basketballs, feet slappin’ on the hardwood. “No bedrooms?”

I pointed down the hall. “A few, and home office.”

He was busy drawin’ out of his suit coat, layin’ it on the rack, where he grabbed a ball, strode toward the top of the key with a few dribbles. “Wow. Quiet.”

Motion sensors turn on state of the art noise cancellin’ speakers. I grinned, maybe feelin’ a bit of pride. “Just speak in a conversational tone, I’ll hear ya better.”

He nodded, before hurlin’ the ball up at the fifteen-foot rim, which clunked and bounced right. “Been a while.” His eyes traced to the other side of the court, and a rim currently set to the human, ten feet. “Can I move in with ya?”

I grinned. “Think the missus might miss ya.”

He shook his head, dreads flowin’ across his shoulders. “Not for a moment. This place is awesome.”

Yeah. I think so.

~ Nuel ~

I’d forgotten how much human females like to shop. Not an ogre thing. The discomfort between us vibrated for more reasons than that, though we both pretended it wasn’t there. A rare week passes, even after all these years, we haven’t dropped each other a hello note, but we just don’t have anything in common anymore. Not that we ever had much, honestly. I still love Silva. But she’s a plains yokum. I’m a city ogre.

And if she suggested fixing me up with one more bull I might rip off one of her limbs.

This trip was a bad idea.

~