Chapter 2

Very Old Friends

Spandalf approached the small hill and jumped out of the cart when the cart reached the gate. The horse sighed with relief and fell over dead.
There was a quaint sign on the gate reading: Go Away!
Spandalf chose not to understand the sign and went right on in and rapped his stick at the base of the large round door.
"Go away!" a fat sounding voice from inside yelled, "Can't you read! I don't want any cookies or other treats unless they are really made of girl scouts!!"
Spandalf smiled, "And what about very old friends?"
There was a pause. "No! They don't taste good!"
Another pause. "No, no, no. I mean. Could your old friends come in?"
The round green door slowly inched open. Blubbo Bacons poked his fat head out of the crack with an "Oh great. Oh well, better not keep fatso waiting" look on his face. "Spandalf?"
"Blubbo Bacons."
Blubbo ran out the door and attempted to hug Spandalf, who backed away from his chubby arms.
Spandalf stood himself up again, glancing at his dead horse. "Good to see you. Why haven't you died yet? What the crap? It's been like… 60 years!" Spandalf laughed.
Blubbo did not. "Get in the house."
Spandalf was silent as he scurried in through the small door.
Blubbo stole Spandalf's hat and stick and ran away. He returned shortly, walked right past Spandalf into the kitchen as he asked, "Can I get you anything? Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger? Would you like a Dylan in ya? He's a little captain! Ha! Feeling the need for speed? Any sort of anything?! I got some Jack Daniels here! What say we open one, eh?"
Spandalf suppressed, "No, just tea thanks." Spandalf turned and smashed his temple into a rafter. "Ow." He turned again and ran into an elegant light fixture. "Oh." He turned again and hit the rafter. He turned again and hit the light. Again. The rafter. Again. The light. Again. He fell over, bleeding from his right temple. He awoke to the sound of Blubbo in the other room rattling off random articles in his kitchen.
"I was expecting you sometime last week! Not that it matters, you come and go as you please."
Spandalf walked to the back of the Blobbit Borough.
"You caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid." Blubbo continued.
Spandalf quickly found his hat and stick and took them. He also filled his pockets with all the money he found on the ground and mantles along the way.
"We've only got cold chicken heart and a bit of green mold… Oh, there's some human hair here — oh no, that won't do. Err, we got footberry jam and an organ tart…"
Spandalf made a run for the door.
"Not much for afters, I'm afraid. Oh, no — we're all right! I've found some sponge-cake. I could spit on your some eggs if you like — oh. Spandalf?" Blubbo looked about the room. "Spandalf?"
Spandalf reentered the room, "Just tea thank you."
"Oh, right!" Blubbo shoved a sponge from the sponge-cake into his mouth. "Oo on' mi' fi' ee' oo, oo?" Blubbo asked.
"Pervert!" Spandalf shouted.
A knocking came to the Blubbo front door and Blubbo nearly choked on the sponge in his mouth.
"Tell them I'm dead!" Blubbo mouthed to Spandalf.
"Sorry," Spandalf shouted, "he's Deb!"
"Deb?" the voice asked, "That sucks!"
Blubbo breathed again. "Not exactly what I asked, but it works. I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace! I want to see mountains again, mountains Spandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book. Oh, tea?"
Blubbo took a kettle of tea off the hook above a light bulb.
"So," Spandalf questioned, "you mean to go through with your plan?"
"Sure." Blubbo struggled with the tea. He couldn't hold the kettle and pour it into a glass at the same time. Spandalf ignored this.
"Lardo suspects something."
"'Course he does. He's a Bacons! Not some block-headed Brokengirdle from Hardbottle. Could you help me with the tea?"
"You will tell him, won't you?"
"Yes, yes. Now, the tea?"
"He's very fond of you."
Blubbo threw the tea kettle out the window. "I know. He'd prolly come with me if I asked him." Blubbo laughed. "I'm old Spandalf. And I know I don't look it, but I feel-" Blubbo put his hands across his stomach, "thin…"
Spandalf began to laugh hysterically.
Blubbo continued. "Sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread."
"Oh boy!"
"I need a holiday-a very long holiday,"
"Thin he says!"
"And I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to!"
"Thin!"

Blubbo and Spandalf sat atop a hill over looking the Pottytree all set up for Blubbo's celebration. The two chub-buckets puffed on their pipes.
Blubbo inhaled deeply, "Mary Wanna. Finest weed in the west-side."
Spandalf flashed a gang symbol.
"Spandalf, my old friend. This will more than likely be a night to forget!"
The two looked at each other and laughed maniacally.