The perfect thwacking tool
When Billy was in his old age and all of the brats had been thwacked, Klexel, a little green goblin, said to Billy: “Zekpeddel me. I’m going to miss you, bud. But my job here is done.”
“All that thwacking…” Billy said, leaning back in a recliner, flickering TV lights playing colors across his face, “…and yet… I still feel empty.”
Klexel shrugged. “Look, for a goblin, thwacking snot-nosed brats is a way of life. For a human? Look, kid – you want my professional advice? Sounds like you’ve been using thwacking brats to not deal with what you need to deal with. You vlep me, kid?”
Billy frowned. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Pauline, kid,” Klexel rolled its eyes. “Zekpeddel me, had to make me spell it out for you, huh? I know I remind you of her, but come on, spegtep a little, eh?”
“Wait, Pauline --?”
But before Billy could ask for clarification, Klexel was gone in a cloud of gobliny smoke.
A green goblin known as Klexel hopped across a lawn, one foot twisted around completely backwards. It cursed gobliny things to itself, which means it mostly just made odd sounds similar to that of a strangled frog.
Billy watched from the window at the front of the house, saw Klexel lean against a garden gnome and curse some more as it tried to get its foot straight. With a crunching sound, not unlike eating cornflakes, the foot got turned back around. The goblin then thanked the gnome in a different, but still unknowable, language, pressing a gold coin into the stalwart gnome’s immoble fingers.
As the goblin limped away from the house, Billy opened the window and shouted: “How’s it going, mister?”
Klexel freezed. It turned to look at Billy.
Aw, would you just look at Billy? His cheeks are rosy and puffy. He’s in his pajamas, hand-me-downs from his older sister. Still too big for him. Aw. Adorable and fuzzy.
Klexel screeched English words that could have been “Take this, snot-nosed brat!” and, looking like a green cannonball, it launched straight for Billy’s adorable little fucking face, claws and sharp teeth extended.
As the goblin carved up adorable little Billy’s adorable little face, one must wonder how a seven-year-old like Billy would react to such torment.
One would imagine screams. One would imagine flailing. Tears, and quite a lot of them, at the bare minimum.
Well, one would have imagined wrong.
Klexel, too, imagined wrong and was greatly confused when Billy had no response whatsoever. Just stood there and let the goblin have at it with his — and I cannot stress this enough — really freaking adorable apple-cheeked face.
Once the goblin noticed this, the fervor of his attacks lessened somewhat, until the goblin stopped swiping and biting completely.
Klexel looked into the stoic eyes of Billy, searching those eyes, its own questioning why the boy was not responding like all the other boys it’d attacked. Not even like the one who’d grabbed Klexel by the ankle and twirled it over his head, causing Klexel’s foot to be spun around backward in the first place.
And Billy finally said: “You can’t hurt me any more than Dad does.”
Klexel hopped off of Billy and brushed itself off. “Zekpeddel me,” Klexel said in its leathery voice, “Sorry bud, thought you were just another run of the mill snot-nosed brat, y’know?”
The boy nodded sagely. “I know.”
“So, uh… your dad… what’s his deal?”
Billy shrugged. “When he’s mad at me he likes to take it out on my friends.”
“What do you mean?”
In response, Billy stepped aside and pointed to the kitchen. Hanging from a spinning kitchen storage gondola, among the spatulas, pans, and ladles, were the parts of a stuffed alligator.
“That used to be Pauline,” Billy said.
“Zekpeddel me… ah, kid, I’m sorry, that sucks a vemplezzim, bud.”
“Billy,” said Billy. “Call me Billy.”
“Right. Billy. Well, stay safe, kid. I was thinking of terrorizing the snot-nosed brat at the end of the street, the one with the Thomas the Tank Engine slippers.”
“Sam,” Billy said. “Sam sucks.”
“Sure does, kid. I mean, Billy. Sure does,” a pause. “Welp, I’m outta here. Catch ya on the spinwikkleside, Billy-boo --”
“Can I come with you?”
Klexel paused mid-vault over the window. It turned to Billy. “Come with me and do… what? Like, throw me at Sam? I can launch myself real good, kid.”
“Sam broke all my colored pencils yesterday,” Billy said. “I want to see him suffer.”
The goblin grins. “You sound real goblinlike, you know that, Billy?”
“Sam just sucks,” and then, “Hey, shriveled thing – will you be my friend?”
“Uh, look pal, I don’t usually like to make friends with the objects of my terrorizing, it really freggnebbles things up, you know? Keep work and pleasure separate, all that.”
“But you weren’t going to terrorize me. I was a mistake.”
“Yeah, but --”
“Cool!” Billy’s face lit up. “I’ll get a ruler to whack Sam with!” and Billy tore off into his house.
Klexel blinked at the vacant space Billy just left. It shook its head. “Oh, Klexel. You’ve really gunshuckled it up this time.”
Klexel could leave right now. It knew that. But for some reason, it stayed, waited for Billy to return with the ruler, who was nearly hopping up and down with delight, shouting: “Snot-nosed brat! Snot-nosed brat! We’re gonna beat up a snot-nosed brat!”
Klexel smiled a soft smile. “C’mon, kid. There’s a lotta brats out there. This Sam kid is only the tip of the bratburg.”
“Gonna get some snot-nosed brats,” Billy hopped out the window after Klexel.
As they stalked down the sidewalk, Klexel said: “Hey, d’ya mind carrying me on that nice sturdy shoulder of yours? My ankle’s still a little yiglexeled.”
“No problem, little goblin,” and Billy hoisted Klexel onto his shoulder, who grumbled, “I’m actually quite large for my species.”
Billy skipped down the street, goblin on his shoulder, happier than he’d ever been before, looking forward to thwacking some brats.
Klexel poofed back into old Billy’s home. “Hey kid, turns out, job isn’t done. Some pooblub named Frannie just became a snot-nosed brat and she could use a thwackin’ – Billy? Where are you, I need my right-hand brat-thwacker.”
Klexel hopped around Billy’s place, a lot cleaner than before. He found Billy sitting at the kitchen table, a big smile on his wrinkly old face.
“Oh, Klexel!” Billy said. “We were just talking about you.”
“We?”
“Pauline and I,” Billy gestured across the table. “Say ‘hi’, to Klexel, Pauline.”
The stuffed alligator at the other end of the kitchen table didn’t say anything. Because it was a stuffed alligator.
Billy laughed. “Oh Pauline… that’s a good one! That’s why you’re my best friend!”
Klexel nodded, keeping its concern off of its face. “So, uh, you wanna come with to thwack some brats or…”
“I’m good,” Billy grinned peacefully. “I’m good. Thank you for everything Klexel. For reminding me of who I really am.”
“Uh… okay,” Klexel nodded. “Catch you on the spinwikkleside.”
Klexel poofed away, leaving a happy, laughing Billy behind with the stuffed alligator known as Pauline.