Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 50
~

“That’s gross,” I said.

“Only until you try it.” She took another bite. And another. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Even if I was starvin’—” I mumbled. “Are ya half troll?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” She chomped some more. Maybe we could find a scorpion for her dessert. Prolly plenty out here. I glanced out at the pitch black.

She chomped some more. It occurred to me the snake might not be so crunchy if she’d taken the time to skin it. Cooked, I might have even held my nose and sampled a bite.

“You sure are picky for a bull raised in the Range,” she said.

“Our clan is more civilized than average,” I said.

“Fussy diet. Must be all those cows wandering around, handy like.”

“Must be,” I agreed. As though her folk don’t have markets everywhere.

A moment later she threw what must have been the rattler’s tail into the dark, and sucked at her teeth. I asked her if she was feelin’ better.

“Some. So, are you just gonna run, get safe, and forget all about what you saw up here. Or are you gonna do something?”

That was a twist in moods. Papa always said hens are like that. Note to self. Don’t let the hens ya’re around get overly hungry.

“I’m open to suggestions,” I said. “Been my experience, ya can’t end hate by callin’ it that and closin’ the door like ya're done. Needs to be something that makes them humans reevaluate their prejudices.”

“That's so profound. For a bull. Being aware of the prejudice is a good start.”

“They own the newspapers, the radio, and TV stations. If we figger out the right message, how do we get it to them?”

She must have been thinkin’ about that. While I waited, I listened to the absolute silence. In the Range, the valleys and peaks have a way of silencin’ the unnatural sounds. There’s always a whisper of a breeze in the pines, a crow braggin’, and elk bellowin’. Nature is always up front and in yar face.

Here. It’s different. The world just disappeared in the silent dark. If it wasn’t for the stars, I could have been six feet under in a coffin. I couldn’t even feel the hint of a breeze on my cheek.

“Ya’re the smart one,” she said. “Ya have an answer to that?”

Answer to what? What were we talkin’ about?

Nothing came to me.

“So ya don’t have an answer.”

Evidently not.

“Ya know anyone smart, that maybe could help ya out?”

“My papa is the smartest person I know,” I said. Kriz is up there. I should give him a call one of these days.

“But he’s the one who grounded the trains and planes.”

I felt very confused. Maybe it was the dark. Was she suggestin’ endin’ trade with them wasn’t a swift move? But how could we justify business with people persecutin’ us?

“We need our own network,” I said.

“What?”

“I wonder how hard it would be to start a TV network.”

“Ya’re an idjit.”

I didn’t like her tone. “Why’s it a fool idea to create an avenue of communication?”

She remained silent for a moment.

I waited.

“What’s gonna make ’em tune in?” she asked.

“We’ll have to have some top notch programmin’,” I said.

“Troll five-star cookin’. Ogre roller derby.”

“Orc poetry hour. Ya ever read orc poetry?”

“Well. They are natural artists.”

“They play a guitar like a harp,” I said.

More starlight glinted from her tusks. She must have smiled. “A shopping network.”

What? “What?” I mumbled.

“All that orc art they sell in the Hamlet,” she said. “They could double the price and market it during, uh, Orc Art Hour.”

That was a tongue twister. “How ’bout, ogre situation comedy?” I asked.

“What would they do, sit around and growl at each other?”

We both broke into growls, and snorted almost on cue.

“News. Morning, noon, and evening news, from a Range perspective.”

“Ah,” she said. “The purpose of yar network.”

“Pull ’em, don’t push,” I said.

“What?” she asked.

“In selling school, Marketing 101. The push or the pull.”

“As long as ya know what ya’re talking about.”

I sighed. She shot me a, what. “It’ll prolly take years to build the infrastructure.”

“I know networks. For three technical generations we’ve been learning to improve the use of the existing infrastructure. Use what ya have, smarter.”

I gave her a, huh.

“Take ten minutes to set up a microwave tower on one of those peaks. But who says the network has to be sitting in the Range. It could broadcast off an existing tower right there in their capital.”

Hmm. She was talkin’ pretty smart. Amazin’ I never really liked her much. Though she looks good in runnin’ tights. For a hen, she isn’t all that pushy.

“I think yar brain is spinning,” she said. “But ya aren’t saying anything.”

I spun around and ran into that dark, where I think the truck sat, callin’ Frip’s name. I hadn’t walked as far away as I thought, and ended up bouncing off the front quarter panel. Banged a shin good. And found myself with my butt in the gravel. Felt kind of idjit-like. Hurt the holes in my chest too. A lot. The bruises around the entry points was the pits.

Frip’s voice sung over me somewhere. “What! What! Someone here?”

“Give me the phone. Got a call to make.”

We worked out the pitch black issue after a moment, like two ogrelings playin’ Marco Polo in the pool. I hurried to call Papa.

“Ya know how late it is?” he growled.

“Ya need to start makin’ phone calls,” I said a little breathlessly. “We’re going into the broadcastin’ business. We need to hire engineers, architects, program developers, actors, journalists, writers.”

“Slow down, slow down. What the heck are ya talkin’ about, fool?”

I scratched out the general idea for him and waited. And waited. He didn’t think it was a good idea?

“Can’t it wait until the morning?” he asked.

“No,” I hissed. “We ain’t got no time to waste. Ya got business people. Wake ’em up. Get ’em movin’. Need marketeers. Start advertisin’ our new network on their own networks. They have laws to keep ’em from discriminatin’ against the competition. They can’t block us on the air.”

“Did ya smoke one of those funky cigarettes?” he asked.

“No. But I see this comin’ together. It’s genius. We may lose our shirt, but it’s genius.”

“I won’t ask ya to explain that last bit,” he said. “By the way. Where are ya?”

I didn’t answer that, but I rambled on about the other ideas we’d thrown out.

“Cooking shows,” Nuel hissed at me. I hadn’t heard her walk up. I repeated her snarl. “And soap operas.” Uh. What human was gonna watch an ogre soap opera? But I repeated her programmin’ category to Papa anyway.

“We have to be successful at home too,” she hissed.

That made sense.

“Troll storytime,” Frip suggested.

“And dance. Dance,” Ponwr added. “We have the moves. Even humans can enjoy that.”

“Apartment decorating,” Frip said. I think we all gave him a look.

“Getting the most of the market,” Ponwr said.

“Yeah, financial advice is good,” I said.

“No. The market. Where you buy beets, persimmons, and sassafras.”

Maybe we had some programmin’ developers right here. Papa shouted at me to slow down. He was grabbin’ a pencil. “Mystery hour,” he said. “Like they used to have in the early days of radio.”

~ Nuel ~

Giddy was a good word to describe how I was feeling. I wasn’t gonna let the fact that creating a network was gonna take time interfere with the buzzing sensation in my gut.

I could almost kiss the ignorant bull.

~