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.
