Chapter 64
Talking Pickle; Talking God
“You descend the stairs,” I said. Mouth-breather, Rub-eyes, Slap-knee, and Up-nose appeared to listen attentively. “The cellar is musty-”
“-Crusty?” said Rub-eye.
“Lots of rust on lots of tools!”
“Can we scurry?” said Slap-knee.
“What is an adventure without scurrying?” said Ella. “As a unified pack of sloop rats, you scurry around the cellar. You run into walls of crates and stacks of barrels.”
“No pickles?” said Mouth-breather
“You don’t see any jars,” I said.
“Are we in the wrong place?” said Up-nose. “It’s dingy in here like the quarters of my first sloop!”
The goblins were so engrossed in the adventure, that from then on it felt like we were truly a pack of sloop rats in an old musty cellar.
As the rats scampered about the cellar, they performed perception checks. Their rolls were abominable until one sloop rat rolled an 18.
“You find enough room to squeeze through two barrels,” I said. “You discover that the cellar extends beyond, down a long corridor.”
“This must be the way,” said a sloop rat.
“Wait for us,” said another.
The rats squeezed through the barrels and made their way down the corridor. Crates were stacked two high along the walls and they towered like buildings over the sloop rats.
The search for the talking pickle was on. Up-nose was certain the jar was hiding inside a crate. Along the way the rats rolled 13 and above to chew through crate boards. All except for Mouth-breather who had picked up a bone pick along the way. He only had to roll an 11.
Crate after crate was empty. Some contained empty jars, some contained pottery, and some contained great big crocks of vinegar. A few crates contained funny aromatic spices!
On down the corridor they went until they felt that the corridor would stretch forever. They debated whether or not to turn back. The debate was heated and left them dazed and exhausted.
Ella and I convened beneath the table.
“Can we do something to help them?” she said.
“Barnacle-eyes was good at keeping them going.”
“We need her. She always had something to share that helped lift morale.”
“One of Slime-tooth’s things?” I chuckled. “We should just make up our own Slime-tooth things to help them out.”
We scampered back up onto the table. I stomped a foot and startled the goblins. I cleared my throat. “Just ahead green light seeps through the boards of a crate.”
“The pickle!” said the rats. With a 2, 15, 17, and a 19, the goblins broke into the crate and discovered, not the talking pickle, but a lantern with a green flame inside.
“What is it?” said Rub-eyes.
“You see a face in the flames,” said Ella. “An old, almost ancient goblin face!”
“It’s a goblin god!” said Slap-knee.
Ella and I raised brows at each other. Looking at me, she said, “Yes! It’s a goblin god! It’s Slime-tooth himself!”
The rats gawked at the tourmaline she set on the table.
“I am the mighty Slime-tooth,” I intoned. “Whenever you are in need of aid, brandish this lantern!”
The rats seemed confused.
Ella stomped. “When you need help, help me help you help each other.”
Ah! They understood! The rats squealed with glee. They chirred with questions, the most popular of which was: “Where is the talking pickle?”
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“If you haven’t found what you’re looking for, it’s best to look where you haven’t looked since looking,” I said.
“Down the corridor!” Mouth-breather said.
“You continue down the corridor. In a matter of minutes, there are no more crates and barrels.”
“I sniff,” said Up-nose.
He rolled a 20.
“You smell vinegar,” said Ella. “And pickling spices! Mustard seed, turmeric root, dill root-”
“Onion?” said Rub-eyes
“I love onions,” said Mouth-breather. His gaze turned somewhat wistful.
“Sure,” said Ella. “And onions too! Give a big whiff, Up-nose!”
Oh what a sniff he took! It was truly a surprise that sudden gales didn’t sweep him off the galleon!
“I smell…I smell…I smell!”
“You smell pickles!” said Ella.
The sloop rats scrambled. They discovered rows of shelves that lined the walls. Jars and jars—more jars!—were packed on every single shelf.
“I brandish Slime-tooth,” said Slap-knee.
“That’s exactly what we should do,” said Mouth-breather.
“Slime-tooth’s face sheds light as green as a watermelon,” I said. “Speak little snots-”
“-rats,” Ella whispered.
“-little rats.”
“Where is the talking pickle?” said Rub-eyes.
“...ask the pickles,” Ella said.
Off the rats went! They banged into jars, climbed up shelves, and more than a handful of rolled 1s made a mess of things. They ate the pickles. Mostly, they pressed their faces to the glass and asked each one if they were a talking pickle.
“I’m over here!” I said.
But my voice was lost over the clamor. It was like I really was a pickle mumbling through brine and glass and lid! And a talking pickle’s voice could only be so small and terrified when a pack of sloop rats were sending glass jars smashing to the ground with every turn and climb they performed.
“I jump onto the shelves across the corridor from my shelf!’ said Up-nose.
He rolled a 1. He slipped, fell, grabbed the shelf, and took the whole thing down with him. Shelf after shelf after shelf crashed down. Jars cascaded to the cellar ground. Glass crashed, crackled, cracked, and pinged.
“Listen!” said Ella. “Listen, listen, listen! So much vinegar fills the corridor that the pack gets swept downstream.”
“Hold hands,” said Mouth-breather. “Sloop rats stick together!”
“But it’s difficult to tell the difference between a wet rat and a floating pickle,” I said. “Pickles and pickles and rats flood down the corridor.”
“I hold Slime-tooth above the vinegar,” said Rub-eyes.
“You save the green flame from snuffing out,” said Ella. “The river of vinegar finally settles through the ground, leaving you soaking among countless pickles. You hear a glass jar roll away.”
The rats found the glass jar. They tackled it and pinned it against the wall. They shouted over each other at the pickle, asking if it could speak. They went on for a while until Slime-tooth had to step in. Ella’s big voice silenced the pack of rats.
I gestured to the imaginary scene. “If speaking, talking, shouting, and yelling doesn’t work, then the wrong person might be speaking, talking, shouting, and yelling; it’s listening that must be done.”
Mouth-breather gawked. Rub-eyes blinked hard. Slap-knee sat still. Up-nose gulped through a stuffy nose. For a moment, all was silent save for the sound of the sea through the hull.
“As the last of the vinegar runs through cracks in the floor, the pickle opens its eyes,” said Ella. She opened her eyes wide. “I am the talking pickle, but-”
The goblins hooted, cheered, and danced around the deckhouse.
“We found the pickle!” they repeated.
They produced such a ruckus that Barnacle-eyes and dozens of goblins squeezed into the deckhouse to see the commotion. They climbed atop each other for better views until there was a wall of goblins whose eyes gleamed like crystals in a mine—all the way to the ceiling like a big wave. The volume grew!
I wrung my hands, flattened my ears, and stepped back.
“-but,” said Ella. “Listen, listen!” Her voice went unheard.
Trembling something fierce, I stepped forward and in my biggest voice said, “Listen up snots!”
Even Barnacle-eyes became quiet. I coughed and felt an ice-pick stitch near my bad rib. Ella beamed at me, but her eyes worried.
“I don’t have much longer,” said Ella.
“What’s wrong with her?” said a goblin in the audience.
“She’s a pickle,” said Mouth-breather.
“I need my magic pickling spices to keep me alive.”
As the pack of rats went exploring down the tunnel while cradling the jar with the talking pickle, the audience moved from confused to entertained to enthralled. They watched in abated breath as the pack of sloop rats could not locate the pickling spices.
“I brandish god Slime-tooth,” said Up-nose.
In my best Slime-tooth voice, I intoned. “Some things can be found by eye, some by ear, some by touch, but the worst and the tastiest things can be found by nose.”
Up-nose put his head back so that his nose stuck up like a shark’s fin. He rolled an 18.
While Ella described the wafting scent of pickling spices in cracked open crates, the audience murmured aloud.
“Slime-tooth?” they said.
“God?” they balked.
“You know another goblin god, Barnacle-eyes?” they asked.
“You’ve been sharing a goblin god’s wise words all this time?” they said.
And as the pack of rats came upon the cracked crates, the audience began recollecting all of Slime-tooth’s sayings. The party turned and shared Slime-tooth’s newest wise words.
“I didn’t know he said those things,” said Barnacle-eyes. “Wow!”
“I put the pickling spices in the jar,” said Slap-knee.
“Congratulations adventurers!” said Ella. “You have found and saved the talking pickle!”