Chapter Two: A is for Aardvark

Jareth lounged on his throne, grinning to himself. He'd had more fun in the last few hours than he could remember having in a long time, and all because he'd stumbled into Sarah Williams's dream. Sarah! Ah, she was better now than at fifteen—if that bikini was any indication. But, she still had that fire in her eyes and the stubbornness.

When Sarah had said those words, Jareth had thought that was it. He'd never see her again; a lifetime ban. He'd felt like someone had punched him in the gut when he realized he'd lost, and not simply because he'd lost—although that was traumatic enough—but because Sarah Williams had been the most interesting human to ever run the Labyrinth. She'd accepted all the strange creatures without a second's thought—even the Helping Hands and the Fireys—and she'd met each challenge that he'd presented. He'd glorified in trying to think up new challenges, although a part of him wondered why he hadn't made them more difficult. And that peach dream…Jareth smiled. Well, that had been pure indulgence. Just like last night, when he'd entered Sarah's dream, he'd changed it—the fact she noticed she was waking up was proof—and the same went for the peach dream. When he'd decided to enter the ballroom, the dream had been changed. But, he'd enjoyed it nonetheless; watching her make her way through the crowd, the dress, his own wardrobe replete with grandeur, and then the dance. It had all been perfect—except for that pesky chair at the end of it.

"Make a note, Kibble," Jareth said, wincing as he always did when he spoke the goblin's name. Maybe he should ban the goblins from naming themselves; they always chose the most ridiculous names—like Thorny. He eyed the goblin, Thorny, who was playing Solitaire with Squibble. They'd arrived back soon after the dream had dissolved, contrite and begging not to be bogged. In a moment of generosity, Jareth grudgingly said they would be spared this once. Wonderfully, the throne room was currently chicken-free. He'd managed to cow the goblins that much. He predicted it would last a day or two.

Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand. Kibble was sitting on the arm rest of the throne, crowded by the Goblin King's legs, which dangled over the arm. The goblin poised a nub of a pencil, the eraser already bitten off, over a small, yellow legal pad and waited.

"Make a note," Jareth repeated before saying, "in all future dreams, chairs shall be banned. No chairs!"

"Yes, Boss," Kibble said, diligently scribbling the note on the pad. "All chairs…what about sofas?"

Jareth snorted. "I doubt most people will be able to heft a sofa easily. Sofas can stay, plus they're handy pieces of furniture. You can do a lot on a sofa." Jareth grinned wickedly to himself.

"Sofas…okay…" Kibble murmured. His tongue peeked out from between his lips as he wrote. "Arm chairs?"

Jareth frowned. "I doubt arm chairs are easy to heft, as well…but just in case, no arm chairs."

"No arm chairs." Kibble tapped the pencil against his chin. "What 'bout ottomans, Boss? They can be thrown."

Jareth sighed and said, "Let's make this simple. No furniture that can be thrown in dreams, alright?"

Kibble's eyes widened. "No chickens?" he yelped.

All the goblins in the throne room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Jareth with identical expressions of horror in their eyes. Jareth sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, and said, "First of all, chickens are not furniture, second of all, there's currently a ban on chickens in the kingdom, so it doesn't matter anyway."

"But, if chickens ain't furniture, than they're not banned from dreams, right Boss?" Kibble asked.

"Correct."

The goblins sighed in relief. One said, "Oh, chickens are okay, good."

Another murmured, "No rebellion then?"

"Not yet. Meeting later."

Jareth said, "I can hear you."

The goblins whistled innocently.

Jareth leaned back in the throne. He'd survived five assassination attempts in his long reign as king. They weren't very well planned things, and they were done in the mood of boredom or anger than actual desire for a coup, and most of them involved non-lethal projectiles flying at his head or shins. Jareth wasn't too worried.

Jareth turned back to Kibble, noticed a smudge on his boot, and his lip curled. "Add to my To Do List, Kibble: have Higgle shine my boots."

"Higgle…shine…boots," Kibble said, his tiny, pink tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth as he diligently scribed with his nub of a pencil. He bit the back of it, where the eraser used to be before it was ravaged away by teeth marks. He looked up at his monarch expectantly.

Jareth checked the large, grandfather clock in the throne room, wondered for the millionth time why he hadn't gotten rid of the thing, then realized it was nearly noon. He stretched and said, "What's first on the list, Kibble?"

"Wha?" Kibble said, the pencil back in his mouth, the yellowish, jagged teeth gnawing away as he gave Jareth an inquisitive look.

"The To Do List, Kibble," Jareth said, impatiently. "What's next on the list?"

"Oh, yes Boss…um…" Kibble looked at the pad of paper, scratching his head with the back of the pencil. "Um…" He turned the pad so that it was sideways. "Er, lessee…" He turned it so it was upside down.

"Kibble," Jareth said, sighing and rubbing his forehead. "Please tell me you can read your own handwriting."

"Oh yes, Boss! I can!"

"Oh, good…so why are you waiting? What's on the list?" Jareth rubbed his smudged boot on the back of his pant leg.

Kibble scratched his head again and said, "Um…dancin' and singin', then buy grog for the goblins, and let the chickens back."

Jareth straightened in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I heavily doubt that's what I told you to write, Kibble. Did you write what I said?"

"Oh yes, Boss Man!"

"Don't call me that," Jareth said, automatically, although he knew it was pointless. He'd been correcting the goblins—and a few other inhabitants of his realm—for years now to call him only "Your Majesty," but to no avail. If only he knew who had taught those goblins the phrase "Boss Man."

He reached over and plucked the pad from Kibble, ignoring how the goblin's eyes widened and the creature jumped for the pad, following it until he nearly fell off his perch. When he looked at the pad, Jareth felt annoyance sour through him like hot lava. He managed to keep his temper, barely, as he looked at the scribbled nonsense in front of him.

"What…what is this? 'Keppinchawagum'?" Jareth growled. There were other indecipherable gibberish strewn about the page. It looked like Kibble had just put random letters together. Jareth threw aside the pad and leaned forward, glaring at Kibble. "I remember spending a good amount of my time trying to teach you fellows literacy! Did you even read the book I gave you?"

"Sorta, Boss Man," Kibble squeaked.

"Sort of? Sort of?"

"We was gonna read the whole thing, honest," Thorny said, running off to a nearby pile of goblin junk and digging around inside.

Another thing to add to my To Do List—which will have to be mental right now—is make the goblins clean away their junk, Jareth thought.

Thorny brought back a creased, slightly greasy, thin book with a grog stain on the cover. He held it up for Jareth to see that, yes, it was indeed the book he'd ordered them to read and study. A is for Aardvark.

"Yes, that book," Jareth confirmed. "Did you read it? You abused it, I can see."

"Oh no, Boss Man," Squibble piped up as he glanced at Thorny's abandoned cards. "We didn' do nothin' bad to the book. We love that book, 'cause of the aardvark."

"Couldn't get past the aardvark," Kibble admitted, "the aardvark was best."

"The aardvark is only for A, the first letter. There are twenty-five more to go. Are you saying the only word you can spell is aardvark?" Jareth sighed. "At least it's a difficult word."

"Well, yes, we wanna know how to spell aardvark and what aardvark looks like," Squibble said, conversationally as he took a card from Thorny's pile.

Jareth nodded, then paused as the words finally sunk in. He had been about to storm and rage at those useless goblins. All that effort to teach them and then they ignored the independent study. However, he instead said, "What do you mean 'what aardvark looks like'?"

"We wanted to see one!" Thorny said, flipping the book to the first page and pointing to the aardvark that was illustrated in a cartoonish style with a beret and a wide smile.

"And you ignored that first impulse as unadvisable and troublesome?" Jareth said, hopefully.

The goblins blinked at him as if he'd just spoken Malaysian. Thorny snorted and said, "No way!"

"Of course not," Jareth sighed.

"We got an aardvark, but it didn' have the hat or smile," Squibble said, sadly, as he put one of his cards in Thorny's pile.

"You got an aardvark?" Jareth asked, feeling his jaw tighten, as well as the muscles of his shoulders. Dread welled up within him.

"Want to see?" Kibble asked, excited.

"Oh yes," Jareth said, through gritted teeth.

A few of the goblins, including Thorny, scampered out of the throne room. Jareth counted the minutes he waited, looking at the grandfather clock. It took five minutes before the goblins swarmed back to the throne room, leading an aardvark on a leash made of rainbow colored yarn tied around the aardvark's midriff.

Jareth groaned when he saw that, yes indeed, the goblins had found a new pet. Was this better or worse than chickens?

"Why?" Jareth said.

"So cute!" Kibble answered from his perch on the throne. He rocked back and forth, grinning as he watched the aardvark. "He got a long tongue, Monty has. He likes bugs."

"Monty? You named the aardvark? And it's a normal name?" Jareth's eyebrows rose.

The goblins brought the creature close, although they were wise enough to keep it far enough that it couldn't accidently brush against Jareth's boots. While Jareth knew what aardvarks looked like—he'd read the alphabet book before giving it to his goblins—he'd never seen one up-close before. There was no reason to, after all. He dealt with wishes, dreams, and humans. Well, and goblins, and fireys, and dwarves, and rock-creature-monsters, and fairies, and…actually, now that he thought of it, he wasn't surprised there was an aardvark in front of him. He was surprised this kind of thing hadn't happened sooner. He was just glad he hadn't taken one of the other books from that book depository, the one with the lions in front of it. He'd thought Where the Wild Things Are had been particularly amusing. Just imagining the goblins looking for those creatures caused Jareth to shudder.

The aardvark was covered in chestnut brown fur, with long clawed feet, a pointy tail, long ears, and, of course, a long face which ended with a snout. In fact, it looked vaguely pig-like. Jareth's lip curled distastefully.

Monty looked back at Jareth, and then a pink tongue casually appeared from the animal's mouth and tasted the air.

"Aaaaw!" the goblins cooed.

"There's no need for an aardvark in the Underground!" Jareth said. "And you fellows should not have a pet! Who will clean up after this…this…?"

"Monty?" Kibble said helpfully.

"Fine, who will clean up after Monty? Who will feed it?"

"I will!" Five goblins said at the same time.

"Uh-huh," Jareth said, skeptically. "I've already seen how you care for the chickens…"

Suddenly, a thought struck Jareth and he smirked. Leaning back, he pretended to pinch a bit of lint off his shirt. "Do you know what aardvarks eat?"

"Bugs," Kibble said.

Well, give them props for knowing that much, Jareth thought.

"Right, but do you know the special thing aardvarks like to eat? Their very special preference for dessert?"

The goblins shook their heads and crept closer to listen, their wide eyes innocently watching Jareth. It almost made him feel guilty for lying—almost, except that he needed his peace and quiet. He could just imagine that aardvark licking along his castle's mortar and stones, seeking ants and whatever else the creature ate; another thing to trip over, besides the goblins and chickens. No, there was no harm in white lies, if it meant his sanity.

"Chickens," Jareth said, softly.

"No!" the goblins gasped.

"Oh yes, quite the aardvark delicacy, chickens are, just like humans eat chicken all the time." I would too, if it didn't equal a coup every time I have a nice chicken dinner. "That aardvark may just slurp your chickens right up."

"No!" the goblins yelped, looking at Monty with fresh, distrustful eyes.

"Now, the only thing to do," Jareth said, his voice soothing and reasonable, "is set Monty free back where his home is—"

"Africa," Kibble supplied.

Jareth paused, frowning at the tiny goblin. "You really did your research for this one," Jareth murmured, "I'm impressed."

Kibble beamed.

"Better than the time you said all worms came from Tijuana, and insisted on trekking around the place to find choice worms for your fowl friends, until I pointed out that there's a difference between worms and tequila worms." Jareth smirked at that particular memory. Tijuana hadn't been a complete waste of time. There'd been beaches, and he'd managed to tempt a drunken frat boy into wishing away one of his frat "brothers." Watching the drunken frat boy then try to navigate the Labyrinth had provided a few hours of amusement, until he'd been sick all over Jareth's favorite oubliette. That hadn't been pleasant; he'd thought he'd never get the place clean again. Then the wished away frat member had been sick all over the throne room and Jareth had decided to send them both back, with a week's supply of pink stomach medicine. And people don't think I'm generous.

Jareth pulled himself out of memories and back to the present, focusing on the goblins that were now eyeing Monty very uncertainly. "So," he finished, "why not take your guest back to Africa and let Monty roam the Sahara—or wherever he comes from—to his heart's desire, looking for his own chickens and bugs and what-not?"

"But Monty's our friend!" a goblin wailed. He hugged the aardvark, who seemed unimpressed by the show of affection.

"But he eats chickens," Jareth said in his reasonable voice.

"But…friend!" the goblin wailed again.

Jareth sighed. "He'll be happier free in Africa, and your chickens will be safe. Really, this is the best solution, fellows."

The goblins sniffled, but they nodded and began leading Monty away. Jareth watched until the aardvark left the throne room. Kibble jumped down from the arm chair and trailed after them, sniffling like everyone else at the thought of losing their new pet. After centuries with the goblins, Jareth's heart wasn't moved by the display. He knew that the goblins would find something new and shiny to fixate on; they'd forget about the aardvark pretty quickly.

Jareth exhaled in relief, finally alone. He glanced at the abandoned To Do List on the floor and curled his upper lip. Maybe goblins couldn't be taught literacy. He picked up the alphabet book and flipped through it, aimlessly.

He paused on G, which showed a studious young boy staring at a book with a determined expression, his lower lip curling out slightly, and a pair of large glasses balanced on his nose. Underneath, in a large font, it said: G is for Glasses, which help you read.

But, the image that came to Jareth's mind was purple glam sunglasses, lip-shaped, of course. Although he'd called them ridiculous, and tossed them off the Grand Canyon, Jareth had found them amusing. What had Sarah grown into? Was she still the girl he had spied ten years ago reciting lines from plays in a park with only a dog for company?

He'd tossed the sunglasses because he'd wanted to see Sarah's eyes. They'd been deep, forest green just like he remembered; crystal clear, there was nothing hiding in their depths. He'd felt a moment of relief, because although she was older and, yes, that did reflect in her eyes—the added years of experience made their depths faceted, rounded, deeper in ways they hadn't been before—he hadn't seen anything sorrowful. Not truly sorrowful, anyway; nothing that suggested a painful life. He was glad, he realized. Glad that Sarah Williams, who'd defeated him, hadn't suffered unduly afterwards. Humans sometimes suffered, Jareth had found. He didn't get frat boys often—actually, nowadays he didn't get many people at all—but in the old days, when people readily believed in magic, he'd found himself dealing with poor humans, barely able to feed themselves let alone another mouth. Children were often wished away because of desperation, not selfishness. Jareth knew that mortality and the life Above could be a tragic thing, indeed.

He was glad Sarah hadn't suffered anything truly horrible like that, something that took away the gleam from a person's eye.

Jareth shook his head and shut the book, tossing it on a nearby end table. He glanced at the grandfather clock, then stopped himself when he realized he was looking forward to seeing Sarah. He snorted. Am I really that bored with being King?

Yes, came the soft whisper at the back of his mind. Because nobody's been wished away recently, the aardvark incident—and the chicken incidents—are what keep you busy. You're ready for something different, something that doesn't feel like babysitting goblins.

"Touché," Jareth muttered, then he grinned. "I wonder if I can make Sarah say 'it's not fair' again?"

# # # #

Sarah sighed, bored, as she entered customer information into her database. She hated this job more than she hated the office receptionist position, she decided for perhaps the fifteenth time that month. She'd left the receptionist position because this company offered a better salary and the promise of a raise in nine months—there was a lot of turn-over, in all the company's departments.

The company boasted that all employees had the chance to move out of billing and into customer service within the first year. While that gave a pay raise, Sarah actually wanted to stay in this department, which handled the data entry aspect. It was a small department, unlike customer service, which actually had to deal with people calling regarding their bills. Sarah had heard people cried and begged; she couldn't deal with that kind of thing.

Actually, what she really wanted to do was work in theater—she hadn't gotten that dual media arts and theater degree for nothing, and then even gone back for a certification in education. But, drama positions in schools were scarce and scarcer in the community venues. She hadn't found anything yet. So, instead, she was doing what she needed to get by.

But, boy did she hate her job right now. It was so boring. Sarah idly shook the snow globe of the Grand Canyon that she kept by her computer monitor and stared outside the window. She had a cubicle near the window, and she could stare out at the greenery outside.

"Sarah?"

Sarah whirled around, immediately feeling guilty for being caught daydreaming, like she'd done when she'd still been in school. "Yes, Ms. Tucker?"

"You're reaching your overtime limit," Ms. Tucker said, "so I'm authorizing you to go home early today."

Sarah smiled. "Fine, Ms. Tucker. Thank you."

While Sarah hated her job, she also believed in doing it as well as she could. Yes, it was boring, but she got all her data entered correctly and quickly. She'd been told she was one of the most productive members of the data entry department. However, that also meant when she hit her weekly hour limit, she was told to go home. Sarah didn't mind; it meant she often didn't work or went home early on Fridays. It gave her more time at the community youth theater where she volunteered, teaching kids about drama and theater, doing fun theater related activities, and helping them rehearse for plays. It was the bright spot in her week.

She didn't currently have a boyfriend, although one of the other volunteers definitely seemed interested. She was considering encouraging that, she was sick of her dry spell, and the fact she could be a theater geek with him was a bonus. Her family was in the next state over, and Sarah had never been good at making close friends. She definitely felt lonely, sometimes.

Sarah spent the afternoon at the youth theater. The youngest group, the 6-8 ages, were there today and she laughed with them and helped them with their rehearsal of Jack and the Beanstalk. There'd been a few parts added, so each child could do something in the play, and now it was more like Jack and His Friends and the Beanstalk. There were only a few weeks until the play would be performed for parents. Although Sarah was confident that everything would go well, she was also nervous. She'd never been in charge of a production before, and although this was too small to be considered a "production," mostly just an activity for the children, she still had worked very hard on it.

Sarah wrapped her scarf around her shoulders and pulled on her fuzzy, wool hat. She was just sliding on her coat, her gloves held in her mouth, when someone said, "Heading off?"

Sarah looked up and tried to smile at Clark, then remembered the gloves. Clark, one of the other volunteers at the youth theater, obligingly took the gloves from Sarah's mouth and held them for her as she shrugged on her coat.

"Yeah, my shift is over. Are you just starting?" Sarah held out a hand.

Clark nodded, giving her the gloves. "Been a while since we've been on the same shift, huh?"

"Yeah, you've been coming in later. The kids miss you."

"I miss them. The younger ones are easier to work with than the teenagers." Clark made a face and Sarah smirked. "But, my work schedule's all messed up for a while. Anyway, how are you doing, Sarah?"

"Oh, just fine." Sarah pulled on the gloves. "Work is work. I wish I could quit that job and just work here, but they never have enough money to hire another person."

"I always say they should hire you."

Their conversation ebbed there, and Sarah stood in front of Clark quietly. He shifted nervously, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it and merely giving her an awkward look, like a drowning fish. In some ways, it was amusing, although Sarah tried not to be amused. Clark was a nice guy, good looking in a plain and dependable sort of way. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a nice smile. But, he was too timid for her; conversations always lagged and he never tried anything productive, like asking her out or something. She hadn't decided yet if she was going to encourage him, or even just ask him out herself.

Sarah smiled. "Well, see you, Clark."

"'Bye Sarah," he murmured.

Sarah left, wincing at the cold blast of air as soon as she stepped outside. She hurried down the sidewalk to where she'd parked the car, wondering why it had to be so damn cold in autumn. She put the heat on when she turned the key in the ignition, then drove home.

Her apartment was on the fifth floor. She took the elevator up, unlocked the door—and walked in just in time to see Squibble eat the leftover roast chicken she'd been saving to make into sandwiches for tonight's dinner. Sarah yelped and tossed her purse onto the floor, rushing to the kitchen nook. It was U-shaped with the refrigerator facing the living room. She grabbed the fridge door and said, "What are you doing?"

"Hungry," Squibble said around the chicken in his mouth.

Thorny was taking the deli cheese and eating it slice-by-slice—and he didn't remove the tissues between the slices, either. Sarah grabbed the cheese baggie from his fingers, jamming it back into the fridge. Another goblin with a bulbous, worty nose and blue-green skin was licking up a puddle of orange juice from the floor, the empty carton a foot away. The other goblins were munching on other items from her fridge—grapes, a raw egg, milk—but had been smart enough to back away. Instead they were clustered around…

Sarah pointed. "Is that an anteater?"

"Aardvark," one of the goblins supplied.

"What…who…why…" Sarah stammered, then she took a deep, calming breath, and focused on the first question. "Why are you guys here with an aardvark?"

"'Cause we got to get rid o'it," one of the goblins said, sadly. "It eats chickens."

"Aardvarks eat chickens?" Sarah frowned. "That doesn't seem right…"

"Boss Man said it did," Squibble said, solemnly, licking his fingers.

"Boss Man…Jareth? Jareth told you that aardvarks eat chickens?" Sarah looked at the way the goblins clustered around the creature, petting its flank, looking sorrowfully at her, and she suddenly had a guess why Jareth would tell the goblins that kind of lie. Briefly, she wondered if she should continue the ruse.

"Aardvarks do eat chickens, don't they, Lady?" Thorny asked, looking at her with eyes that suddenly seemed larger and more puppy-dog-ish.

Well damn, now she'd feel like a horrible person if she lied to them. The goblins, or Thorny at least, were perceptive. They were already wondering if perhaps their king had told them a fib simply by her hesitant words.

Sarah sighed and pointed at the aardvark snout. "I think Jareth's wrong. See its long nose and tiny mouth? That's made for eating small things, like insects, not big things like chickens."

"But King said it, and he knows," one of the goblins said, matter-a-factly.

Sarah smiled. "He can't know everything."

"He the king," Squibble said, as if such logic was obvious.

"Right, but he made a mistake about the aardvark. I know because…well, aardvarks are from Aboveground, after all. I should know."

The goblins shifted, thoughtfully. "Makes sense," Squibble said. "Kingy wouldn't know everything about Aboveground, he doesn't go much nowadays. Are aardvarks new?"

"I—I don't know." What counted as "new," after all?

Thorny nodded, thinking out Sarah's answer, and said, "Lady would know 'bout Aboveground 'cause she lives here."

"Exactly!" Sarah smiled.

"You know what would be really handy? If Kingy and Sarah lived together, then one could know stuff about Aboveground and one would know stuff about Underground," the blue-green goblin said.

Sarah's smile faltered. "Um…"

"Good idea, Kibble!"

Kibble? Sarah shook her head. Now was the time to change the subject, quickly. "Guys, why do you have an aardvark?"

"Oh, aardvark's name is Monty. He's our friend, he stays with us," Kibble said, with excitement.

The other goblins chimed in, going into detail about how they'd read some book with an aardvark picture in it, then they'd become curious as to whether the creatures were real so they'd gone hunting in Africa for one. Monty was the first they could catch. Their first attempt had been met with ferocious claws; one of the goblins still had the scars. He'd proclaimed all aardvarks enemies and refused to go anywhere near Monty, so he was back at the castle celebrating Monty's departure.

Sarah half listened. Her mind was still amused by the goblin's innocent words about her and Jareth living together. In some ways, the goblins reminded her of the kids at the youth theater, particularly the younger ones. Yes, the goblins were probably older—how long did a goblin live, anyway?—but, that childlike innocence and naiveté was the same. When she looked at the goblins in that light, they seemed almost…cute. She forgave them for eating half her refrigerator's contents.

"But, since aardvarks don't eat chickens, we don't haveta put Monty back in Africa!" Kibble said, excitedly. "Right Lady?"

Sarah blinked, coming out of her thoughts. "What?"

"We can take Monty back to the castle!" Thorny said, happily.

Uh-oh. Sarah had a feeling that if Jareth was against chickens, he'd definitely dislike an aardvark running around. Could she really blame him? If she had a castle, she wouldn't want strange mammals in it, either.

And what would Jareth do if he found out she'd been the reason the goblins brought Monty back? Besides, looking at the poor creature, she was pretty sure it didn't belong with the goblins, either. Even if it did look strangely placid; something having to do with the long nose and beady eyes. Was it smiling or was that her imagination?

Sarah shook her head. "Guys, you need to send it back to its natural habitat."

"Natural wha?" Kibble frowned and the goblins fell quiet in confusion.

"Where it's supposed to live," Sarah answered. "Its home is Africa, not the Underground. I'm sure Monty has family in Africa it misses."

"Monty is a he," one of the goblins said.

"Oh, um, he should be home with his family. Would you like it if someone took you away from Jareth? Or the Underground?"

"No," the goblins said, in unison, shifting guiltily.

Kibble pouted. "But…but we wouldn't mind a vacation! Monty is on vacation!"

Sarah thought desperately, then blurted out, "Yes, but what if someone took the chickens away? Even for a week, even if they said 'just for a vacation'? Wouldn't you miss them?"

Kibble's eyes widened. "Yes."

"Well, that's how Monty feels. He's been taken away and he misses his chic—I mean, his family. You understand, right guys? You need to take him back home."

Kibble sighed, petting Monty's flank. "Yeah, we guess."

"We should take him back to Africa," Squibble confirmed, nodding sagely. "Lady wise."

"Oh, thanks." Sarah smiled. "And because you guys are being so mature—"

"What's mature?" Thorny asked.

"Grown up—"

"Eeew!" the goblins cried, shaking their heads. One goblin continued, "Grown-ups always wish away their kids! Eeew! We're not grown-ups, we're goblins."

"Right, right. Sorry. Um, how about just 'understanding' then?" When that didn't meet with any protests, Sarah continued, "Since you guys are being so understanding about this, I'll overlook the fact you ate most my food. But, guys, in the future you must ask me before you eat anything, alright? It's very rude to eat someone's food without asking, and if you're going to be rude, then I can't let you visit. Do you want to visit?"

"Yes!" the goblins squealed.

"I want you guys to visit, too." And when Sarah realized the words were true, she smiled. "So, you can't do rude things, okay?"

"Okay," they said, again in unison, hanging their heads with contrition.

"I'm glad you visited today, though," Sarah said, causing them to look up and beam smiles at her, "but now you need to get Monty back to Africa and I need to figure out what I'm having for dinner. I'll see you guys another day, okay?"

"Okay, bye Lady," they said as they began filing towards her pantry door. Kibble opened it and one by one, the goblins went inside. At the end, Squibble led Monty by a leash constructed of rainbow colored yarn. When they had entered the pantry, Kibble dashed inside with a final goodbye and shut the door.

"They really do love chickens," Sarah muttered, shaking her head. She quickly walked over to the pantry, yanking it back open and peeked inside. Everything looked in order. Her food was still there, but the goblins and the aardvark weren't.

"Huh," Sarah said, looking around. Spotting a jar of spaghetti sauce and pasta, she grabbed both and closed the door.

After dinner, she watched a movie, then brushed her teeth and turned in for the night. As she lay in bed, butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach. Would she dream tonight? And if she did, would Jareth be there? She'd given him the freedom to visit her, but would he do it? And why was part of her hoping he would?

She sighed, closing her eyes tight. The last thing she needed was to stay awake all night wondering if she was going to dream. But, thoughts of Jareth, of talking to him, and apprehension of talking to him again, kept intruding. It was a very long time before Sarah finally drifted off to sleep.

When Sarah opened her eyes, she knew she was dreaming. She was sitting on a burgundy sofa…in the middle of a jungle. She could feel the warm humidity, hear the noises of birds, smell the moisture.

And sitting next to her was the Goblin King.


Author's Notes: I hope this chapter wasn't boring. I wanted to show "a day in the life of..." kind of stuff, and intermix reality with the dreams. Plus this stuff comes in important later on in small (but big) ways. Anyway, the next chapter will deal entirely with Sarah's dream, which will be a pretty long one, I think. Let me know what you think. Found it interesting or boring? Liked the dream stuff better? If anyone can get the reference for Sarah's dream, as I used something for inspiration, then you get a giant cookie. It'll become clearer in the next chapter. :)

Please do read and review! I love hearing from all of you, it really helps me with this whole writing thing, especially since lately I've felt like I'm getting back on the writing bicycle, since I've been so busy and writing so erratically. All suggestions/comments/questions welcomed. You'll hear a reply from me. :)

A few shout-outs:

janeitesarah: I'm glad you liked the last chapter and found Thorny's misguided name amusing! Jareth may be onto something to forbid goblins to name themselves. :P As for Squibble's name, I thought I'd heard it somewhere, but I completely forgot it was in My Fine Feathered Friend. Darn, I thought I was being original. It's hard to name goblins! I will simply dedicate Squibble to Lixxle, and her excellent writing skills and wonderful stories, since I don't want to change Squibble's name now.

DefyMe: Thank you for the compliments! I originally got the idea of this story by imagining Sarah doing "something ridiculous" and as I thought about it, the sunglasses came into mind. I doubt they'd be quite her style, more like something she'd secretly love to get away with. Hopefully, each dream will bring something different but adequately odd/surreal/funny/bizarre/light-hearted to the story. :)

futrCSI1490: Oh, Jareth will definitely have fun with this, but I think he's also going to realize he may have underestimated Sarah (and her imagination) again. :D

VampireMafiaQueen: I know, I took too long of a writing break there, didn't I? Now I feel all unsure of myself. Writing isn't exactly like riding a bicycle, I find, when you take long breaks. There's a definite "warm-up" period and I'm wondering if my writing is suffering from it. But I'm glad to be back and glad you're enjoying the story! I needed something a bit more lighthearted, hence the Playful/Trickster!Jareth instead of Dark!Jareth or Mysterious!Jareth. :D

arillya13: I really enjoy writing the dream sequences because I can think things like, "Well, that's just weird...now how do I really push the envelope and make it even more weird?" XD Glad you're enjoying the story!

Noreasona: Any reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. :D I admit I took a long break; life got busy, I had other projects, then writer's block, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing often and a lot. Hopefully also writing worthwhile things, too. I'm glad you're liking the story and I'll try not to take such long breaks. :3

Merlinswit: Glad you like the story! But, not sure what you mean by "finish the Christmas dinner story." I did finish State of Mind some months ago. Hope you check it out. :)

Thank you again for all the kind reviews!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything in regards to the Labyrinth except for my own original characters. This is a non-profit work of fiction posted for amusement and enjoyment. Please do not repost, alter, or copy this work without permission from me beforehand. Thank you.