004 - SHOW TIME
“Frink I need you in costume!” Chumbles shouted, voice pitching even higher than usual.
Frink looked up from struggling into colorful tights way too small to fit him. The group had been in constant motion since leaving Roach and had only just begun to prepare for a show and a plan that seemed to exist only in the mind of Chumbles.
“I’m hot,” Frink complained, “I’m tired. I been runnin’ around all day, Chum! I can’t fit this thing on me at all and I don’t even know what the hell I’m doin’ wearing it to begin with!”
“You’re gonna wear it, Frink,” Chumbles said, voice uncharacteristically low, “Because I told you to. You’re in my world now.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes then back to Frink before adding, “Put it on.”
Dinty looked over at the two from a few feet away where he sat lounging, wearing his own colorful clown outfit complete with makeup to change his skin tone to something resembling a human. It was a grotesque caricature of the real thing but, if the light was low enough, he just might pass for a short, ugly man.
“Can’t believe I’m saying this but, we should probably just do what he says, Frink,” Dinty said, “So far it’s all been working out.”
After having left Roach, Chumbles, as if guided by some mystical instinct, had brought them directly to a side street near the retirement home that none of them had noticed previously. Inside was a group of humans, preparing for the show that evening.
With a little talk and a little distraction, Chumbles had somehow managed to spook the group’s horse, which tore off down the road pulling the wagon with all of their supplies and costumes with it. The crew had run after it and, some minutes later a loud crash and shouting told the boys all they needed to know about the competition.
With a foresight and skill neither Frink nor Dinty had known Chumbles could have possessed, the goblin revealed a slip of paper that granted access for one wagon, one horse, and a crew of not more than four people to enter the retirement compound and perform that night.
And so, there they were, fresh costumes, a wagon, and a horse procured by an only minimally paid Roach, and waiting in the alleyway getting everything on.
Frink struggled and Chumbles pulled and finally, looking like a bouquet of oddly shaped balloons and flowers, Frink managed to slip into the costume. He sat in a semblance of patience while Chumbles caked on “human makeup” to complete the disguise, whining the whole time, “Nobody’s gonna fall for this, and if they do, what then? We get inside but how’re we gonna get the treasure?”
“That’s actually a good question. Chumbles? What’s next?” Dinty asked.
“Look man, I can’t explain art to you. You gotta experience it to know what’s next. This stuff just speaks to me, OK? Let an artist art and when it’s time to get the treasure we get it!” he said, squeaky voice tired of explaining.
Dinty looked on with a frown then just shrugged. He pulled out a flask and took a deep pull, before handing it over to Frink to do the same.
“We get through that gate, and I suppose we’ll figure it out then.”
Chumbles nodded eagerly, still slathering makeup onto Frink’s bulbous face, “You’re gettin’ it, Dint, I knew you could understand.”
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The guard at the servants and shipping entrance, wearing the same blue uniform as the guard inside, strode up to the carriage where Chumbles sat at the driver’s seat with Dinty and Frink to either side of them. Inside was an assortment of crates, odds, and ends that had come along with the rest of the equipment they had received from Roach.
“How do you do, good sir?” Chumbles asked, putting on an over the top imitation of a posh, upper class accent. He removed his top hat and bowed slightly as he handed over the manifest for Magical Arts and Acrobatics, which the guard took and barely looked at.
“Ya’ll are performing for the residents tonight?” the guard asked, bored.
“Indeed, sir!” Chumbles said, bowing again and flourishing his hat, “Magial Arts and Acrobatics! The city's pre-mier entertaining group ready to dazzle and-”
The guard waved them forward, “Looks good, head on through.”
Chumbles looked flummoxed and was about to keep on speaking when Dinty spoke up, “Let’s not waste the gentleman’s time now, Chum! Onward! Onward!”
He took the reigns from Chumble’s hands and gave them a short crack, moving the horse forward, and finally precipitating Chumbles into getting on with the ruse.
“A good evening to you, sir!” he said, standing and flourishing his hat again, “And a good evening to all the residents of Chamelton City River District Retirement community!”
The wagon trundled through and around a small culdesac, not far from which a stage was set up - clearly meant for the crew to use for their performance.
“We’re in! We’re in!!” Frink said, delightedly rubbing his hands together, “Oh, boys, I can already smell that treasure!”
“So we break for it then?” Dinty asked, eyes darting around looking for more guards.
“No,” Chumbles said forcefully, “Now that I’ve seen what we’re working with, the plan moves forward like a key shifting gently but perfectly into a lock. A small turn, gentleman, a twist and the tumblers shall move and unto us shall be revealed the rewards of our play, our grand farce!”
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“Chumbles what the hell are you talking about?” Dinty said, “We’re inside. They think we’re people. Why don’t we just walk around, pretend we’re using the bathroom or something, and start in with the treasure hunt?”
Frink’s eyes had lit up. He was staring at Chumbles in awe. “No, Dinty, we can’t do that,” he said, voice just above a whisper, “Just look at him! The spirits have chosen Chumbles and tonight he puts together his masterpiece! Let the man cook!”
Chumbles was standing, back straight, surveying the grounds like a king surveying his lands and even Dinty looked cowed by the severity of his gaze.
“OK, just…OK fine! What now then?” he asked.
Chumbles was quiet a moment before saying, “Now we draw the eyes of the crowd. And not one shall be left who has not witnessed our performance this day.”
Frustrated Dinty almost yelled, “What the hell do we do!?”
Frink shushed him and Chumbles turned slowly to face him, “Follow my lead, take your cues from the music and listen for changes, and fear not friend, for tonight I hold you in my arms as I lead this dance.”
Dinty rolled his eyes and just put up his hands in surrender, “Lead on.”
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As night fell, what had begun with just a few of the residents had swelled to what must have been the whole community. Residents, the guards, even Mr. Bateman were all enraptured, standing, sitting, taking every available place on the grounds where a view of the performance could be seen.
Sparks shot out and fireworks exploded into the air as the three goblins danced and raced across the stage. Music permeated the scene carrying with it the emotions of the crowd, moving them from bemused interest to enraptured silence, along a pathway and climbing ladder of emotions replete with exciting highs and tear jerking lows. As if carried along by magic, all three moved among roles as dancers, acrobats, singers, and players of instruments - skills none of them believed they had.
All save Chumbles. For it was by his will that everything moved, and nothing moved that was not part of his plan.
Music crescendoed, Chumbles on piano as Frink and Dinty, sweating with the exertion of their movements, danced in time and swept handfuls of sparkling magic dust into the air, igniting into magical images of dragons and beasts of a time before time.
Then, it was over. The music stopped, the dancers halted, and all three goblins took a bow.
The crowd erupted into applause, and those among the elderly who could still stand rose to their feet and cheered. Chumbles joined the other two and they joined hands and took a bow, chests heaving with the effort of the performance they had just completed.
“Chum..bles!” Frink panted, “That was… incredible!”
“Ama…zing!” Dinty added, “What… now! How do we… get the… treasure!”
Chumbles was gasping for air, sweat falling from his brow as he wheezed at the other two, “Dunno. Kind of… out of ideas.”
“What?” Dinty said, standing up straight. The crowd was still cheering and clapping as he stared at the bowing Chumbles.
“You know I put it all into the performance. Kinda got lost in it, right? This is as far as I got,” Chumbles said, matter of factly, “It was a lot of fun though, right?”
“Yeah,” Frink said, “That was real good, Chum. Maybe we just head home. These people ain’t so bad.”
“Man of the heart, Frink!” Chumbles said waggling a finger, “Let’s get a beer or something.”
Dinty was beside himself, “Beer? Not so bad? The olds? You two…!! Ugh! I’ll do it myself!”
He stormed off the stage, claps and cheers following him. Chumbles and Frink just shrugged, took another bow, and got to work packing up the wagon.
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Noon, Workman’s Day Three: Goblin Town Tavern
“So I figure, they keep putting out the trash, we keep taking it,” Chumbles was saying as he drank his beer.
“Win win,” Frink concurred, taking a sip of his own, “Sort of a symbiotic relationship.”
The door to the tavern opened and in came Dinty, fresh faced and smiling.
“Heeeeyyy,” Chumbles said, “A beer for the treasure hunter?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Chum, don’t mind if I do,” Dinty said, smiling and accepting the mug Chumbles poured for him.
“How’d it go?” Frink asked, “Don’t see any bags of loot on you.”
“Ahh, Frink, you see that’s where you’re wrong. The two of you seem to have forgotten that not all treasure is…well you can’t take it all with you, see? Sometimes it’s the experience that counts.”
“What’s he on about?” Frink said to Chumbles.
“You tell me man, I only work here,” Chumbles replied.
Dinty looked confused, “What? Chum, you put together that whole show. You were talking the whole time like some kind of possessed playwright and you want to tell me you don’t understand intangible rewards?”
Chumbles laughed, “Man, I didn’t want to say anything but I bought some of that fairy dust from Roach when we went back for the wagon and stuff.”
He and Frink laughed together while Dinty looked confused, “You were high? You did all that because you were high?”
Chumbles nodded and Frink added, “Me too. Didn’t wanna tell you, Dint. Sometimes you get so serious about all this stuff.”
“Serious?” Dinty said, suddenly incensed, “Me? What about you! You burst in here yesterday all fire and brimstone for getting rid of the old people’s home, this whole thing was your idea and you want to say I GET SERIOUS?”
“Yeah,” Frink said, shrugging, “Like now.”
Dinty took a deep breath and relaxed, “Well it all worked out anyway.”
“How do you figure?” Frink asked.
Dinty smiled mischievously, “Well, as it turns out, that retirement home isn’t just for humans.”
“Bateman said so,” Frink said, “So what?”
“Oh, Frink, should have listened to me last night and come along. You see,” Dinty said, usual air of superiority back in place, “Elves also like to have mini retirements. You know, take a few years out of their thousands and just hang out with human olds as they wind down their days. Makes 'em feel alive to be around those of us who don’t live forever like them.
“And the lady elves don’t exactly age. They just sort of, stay young… and hot… forever.”
“Yeah? And what’s a lady elf want to do with a goblin like you?” Frink asked.
“If the shortness of human lives makes them feel alive, can you imagine what a goblin lifespan does to a woman who thinks that way?”
Chumbles chuckled and nodded knowingly, “Probably makes ‘em hungry or something.”
Frink looked dumbfounded as he shared a look with Dinty who just smiled knowingly right back at Chumbles, “Something like that.”