Ogreness Ogres Ike and Nuel are thrust into the middle of dangerous politics and persecution when a troll cop is unfairly arrested for murder with no expectation of justice. Rioters prowl the streets shouting, “Ike’s head on a pike”. Resentment for ogre success and industry soars, and with it, the fear humans hold for the giants. There’s nasty history between their kinds. The arrogant Ike and uptight Nuel may not be the best candidates to sketch a path to peace, considering they don’t even like each other.
Humor—Suspense—Ogre romance
With my lower lip worryin’ my right tusk, a habit I just can’t break, I peered down at Sissy the pit bull and she belted out a four note yodel. Pretty sure she was sayin’, “I told ya so.” Which she did. I was in bed though, and it takes a lot to get an ogre out of bed when we’ve gotten the blankets just right.
Must have been around eleven PM. That means the dozen eggs splattered against the house had gotten a good five hours to dry and make like barnacles to the stucco and siding. Wouldn’t wash off with the hose. Maybe a little scrubbin’ with the brush I use on the Green Hornet, my truck.
No. Would need something stiffer than that. Should just pull out the pressure washer and go to it. Even if it’s on the left-side of 5 AM. Most neighbors don’t like me much already. Not much harm to be done to our relations.
I took a step for the house to call Dave, to warn him our morning run was off, but I caught a shadow comin’ up the lane. I musta stared at those egg shells a while. I strode down to the street.
“Let’s pick up the feet,” Dave said as he got close enough not to have to shout.
My dreadlocks scrapin’ my shoulders, I told him I couldn’t go.
“You’re all dressed to run. Whazzup?” Dave trundled to a stop, drew his forearm across his brow, though he couldn’t have gotten too sweaty traversin’ the block here.
“Some dinkleberries egged my house last night.”
“That stinks,” Dave groused a little loudly. The Olstein’s shepherd ranted a five-second solo. “So after our run, have your guy call a guy to have it cleaned up.”
I gave him a look. We ogres have what humans consider a mean look. But Dave and I go back. College freshmen back. Hard to intimidate him. Not like that was my intention—just sayin’.
“What?” Dave asked.
“Ya know I don’t have a guy.”
Dave blinked. “You don’t have a guy? Everyone has a guy? Why don’t you have a guy?”
I sighed. I like to do for myself. But I wasn’t gonna tell this jerk that for the four hundredth time. I handed him my card key so he could let himself through my side gate, and into the plains reserve my place abuts, so he could do his run without me.
“You sure?” He asked.
I nodded my dreads.
“You’re not locking yourself out, are you?” Dave asked, givin’ the piece of plastic a shake.
“Nah. I smelled the eggs the moment I opened the front door.” We ogres have a pretty good snout. Dave really knows that. Short story I won't get into. But yeah, I told him humans stink once. “Besides, I can use the keypad on the garage.”
Dave shrugged. Steppin’ into a jog for the side of the house he said, “You oughta get a guy.”
Yeah. My papa says that. My mama says that. The grands say that. I should get a guy. Maybe even my cousin Kriz has mumbled that a couple times.
I whistled at Sissy, since she looked a little absorbed in her pmail catchin’ up. She gave me that pit bull, go-to-heck look, and leaned back into her sniffin’. I jogged at her floppin’ my runners onto the pavers. The go-to-heck glare turned into a ya’re-a-butthead glance, before she sprinted away from my hand, which I swatted in the general direction of her rumpus.
She beat me to the stoop. So all was well.
But my hand jolted on a locked front door. Oh, stink. Why did I lock it? Stink. I strode to the right-side garage door, tapped at the keypad, only to get a red flashing dot.
Oh, stink. Papa had told me he was gonna change the pin, since I hadn’t updated it since the construction was done on the place, and three hundred workers had my code.
What did he say he changed it too?
I tried Papa’s birth date. Mama’s. All the siblings’.
Of course I didn’t have my phone to call him. Hens run with their phones. Tough ogre bulls don’t have to worry about emergencies.
Yeah.
Ah, stink. Stink stink. I grabbed Sissy up and sprinted for the side gate. Gotta catch up with Dave. No card key, of course. In a wild hurdle I caught the right post of the fence with my right foot, used my left hand on the left jam and pulled and kicked. The ornamental edge of the gate still got me in the side of my thigh. Ouch.
Maybe I wrenched my ankle when I hit the pavers on the other side. I settled Sissy in the grass midstride, maybe a little roughly. She barked, a little irritated, ran after me with a gnarly attitude, threatenin’ to draw blood from the ankle I’d just sprained.
At the back gate I growled at her to stay. Had to give her a size twenty-seven runner to the chest to keep her from followin’ me out.
Dave and I usually walk the dip in the ravine just outside my property, since it’s a little rough, but I didn’t want to catch Dave on the backside of his run.
Of course I stumbled on the descent, never got my size twenty-sevens high enough, before I plowed my knees into the gravel of the wash. Ouch. I think the gate had drawn blood from my thigh. I now had road rash on my palms, and definitely scraped my knees.
I considered settling on my bum, and walkin’ to Dave’s house to wait for him. Don't know where I would've found access to our neighborhood, though. I think I’ve already hurdled enough gates. And my luck today, he’d decide to make a triple loop in the park this morning.
So I walked across the ravine, climbed the far side carefully in the dark of the setting moon, before strikin’ into a sprint on a sprained ankle to catch my stinkin’ neighbor.
What a great way to start the day.
~ Nuel ~
I woke close to regular time. My head wasn’t in vacation mode yet. I considered rolling over. First night in a strange bed, of course I didn’t sleep well. Could stand another couple hours of snooze time. But Silva suggested a six AM run, like the old days. Why didn’t I slap her? Twenty minutes of pillow time wouldn’t do me any good. So I forced myself out of bed. A cup of caffeine while I waited for my hosts to rise couldn’t hurt.
To be a catty female, I pulled on my sexiest running top, vee down to my knees. It was an old meow between us. Silva had to stuff her bra. Her Ralph is a boob man, prolly from knowing me long before he met Silva, through me.
A nice gawk from her husband would give us a laugh. Last night, Silva reminded me mornings on the plains are chilly, so instead of shorts I pulled out my red running tights. If Ralph’s gonna stare, he might as well enjoy a good view of my butt too.
~
A Black Lake Novel
by
R. Mac Wheeler
Chapter 1
~
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