While chaos took full credit for the creation of eldritch horrors and humans alike, it pleaded innocence when it came to the most lawless creature of all: the mighty goblin. No one knew where goblins had come from. By the time cosmic order noticed their existence, it was too late. The population had secretly infiltrated every dimension in existence, like highly invasive mold. Except for Earth, of course, due to its proximity high on the celestial shelf, tucked conveniently out of sight, and the fact that it was resistant to most cosmic strains of mold.

Worse yet, goblins had made themselves irreplaceable. For eons, the cosmos operated smoothly. Plants grew untended, mail delivered without delay, shelves restocked after normal operating hours – all the secret work of goblins. Their plan was inarguably brilliant. Make the rest of the cosmos blindly dependent on them and then, when it was time to reveal their existence, stop working, thus upheaving order, until their demands were met.

The goblin work strikes were a dark era for the cosmos. Productivity ground to a halt, progress reversed, and, on some outer dimensions, evolution packed up its bags and reverted to primordial ooze. Reluctantly, cosmic order was forced to entertain their demands. In exchange for keeping the whole system working seamlessly, the goblins wanted three things: equality, magic, and to be exempt from the universal law of ‘no shirts, no shoes, no service’. Cosmic order settled for two out of the three, decreeing that if goblins had been successful this long without magic, then they clearly didn’t need it.

The ruling may very well have been the single greatest decision ever made. As the popular saying went: hell hath no fury like a goblin mildly inconvenienced. Magic combined with the explosive temper of the species would have all but guaranteed mass destruction.

Until recently, Gnal had never given the decision much thought. Now it was all she could think about. She watched, with eyebrows raised, as Mop struggled in through her backdoor from the garden, tracking mud behind her as she muttered and mumbled beneath her breath.

“What are you doing with that carnivorous tulip?” Gnal demanded.

Mop tried to hide the potted plant behind her back, which was something of an impossibility considering it was bigger than her. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this because of Mark?”

“What? No!” Mop couldn’t disguise the murderous smile that split across her needle-toothed mouth.

Gnal and Mop had visited Earth twice since realizing the effects of time dilation. A lot had happened during their first prolonged stay. They saw Gemma enter high school, earn her license, and acquire a boyfriend. One who promptly dumped her during their second visit.

Mop hadn’t taken the news well.

“I know for you, it’s only been a week,” Gnal reminded Mop. “But Gemma’s had two years to move on. He’s old news.”

“Don’t know who this Gemma is, but I saw my sweet Lil Gramma bawl her eyes out over this stupid boy. I don’t care if it’s been two years or two hundred, Mark’s getting the ol’ tulip surprise in the trunk of his car.”

Gnal quoted regulation twenty-one, section one, from The Rules. “Void travelers are prohibited from entering the Earth dimension with any agricultural or wildlife products in their possession.”

Carnivorous tulips technically counted as both and was, therefore, a double offense. Not that Mop cared. The only good rulebook, as far as she was concerned, was sandwiched between two slices of bread and doused in hot sauce.

“So?” Mop said.

Gnal lifted the plotted plant from her grasp and set it on the shelf out of reach. “You promised to follow the rules.”

“Fine,” the goblin sighed. The twinkle in her eyes suggested not only was it not fine, but she was already thinking up ways to skirt the rules. “Unrelated, what does your precious handbook say about toilet paper?”

Gnal ran through several clauses and came up empty. “There’s nothing in The Rules forbidding you from bringing your own. I don’t see why you’d need it, though. Thelma keeps the household well st–”

“It’s not for the restroom, Gnal.”

“Oh.” Best not to know, Gnal decided. Easier to plead innocent that way.

Mop slung her backpack over one shoulder and stomped her feet like an impatient toddler. “Are you finished packing yet? It’s not like you need clothes.”

“We’re going for two weeks. I want to be prepared.”

Two weeks on Earth was the equivalent of three hours and twenty minutes back in the Void. At the end of each work week, Gnal and Mop would pack, pop off to Earth for two weeks, and return home with most of their weekend still intact. Gnal had never felt so rested in her life. She suddenly had all the time in the world to craft, nap in boxes, and visit every office supply store in the tri-county area. It was good for Mop, too, allowing her to satiate her weird, motherly cravings without smuggling magical beings home.

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“Alright, I’m ready, Let’s go.” Gnal zipped her hard shelled suitcase shut and set it onto the floor. Its plastic wheels clattered against the kitchen tile behind her. On cue, a dark portal appeared before them.

The old house had a plethora of empty rooms, but Gnal preferred the attic. The draft from the broken window kept it cool and Gnal liked the way the rain sounded against the roof at night. Plus, there was an endless supply of old trinkets to sift through whenever she got bored. The portal opened up, depositing them in the very top room of the house.

Gnal was unpacking her things when a series of thunderous footsteps shook the house, growing louder as they pounded up the attic stairs. Gnal ducked behind an armoire shrouded in cobwebs seconds before the rickety door flew open and a young woman burst inside, crying. Gemma slammed the door behind her and sank to the ground, burying her face in her arms. Her thin shoulders heaved with each racking sob.

A clatter from the far end of the attic caused both Gnal and Gemma to flinch in surprise. Gnal’s eyes searched the gloom for the source of the commotion. In an effort to tuck herself deeper into the maze of stored belongings, Mop had gotten a cord wrapped around her ankle and tripped headfirst into a stack of old newspapers. The little goblin was sprawled across the floor, hidden amongst the spilled debris, unable to move without betraying her presence.

“Hello?” Gemma stood and stepped cautiously towards the mound of scattered newspapers. “Is someone there?”

Gnal’s particles shifted the fastest they’d ever moved before. Each atom buzzed and hummed as it slid neatly into place, completing the transformation just in time for Gnal to slink out from behind the armoire on four short, stubby legs. “Moo?”

Gemma’s head whipped in Gnal’s direction. “Excuse me?”

Gnal tried again. “Moo-wow?”

The young woman simply stared, dumbfounded, as if her mind was battling with her ears, unwilling to believe what they’d just heard.

Gnal got it right on the third try. “Meow!”

The yowl snapped Gemma from her stupor. She sank to her knees and stretched one long arm in Gnal’s direction, coaxing her forward with an inviting curl of her finger. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Against every instinct screaming at her to hurl herself in the opposite direction, Gnal willed her strange, fluffy body one stubborn step forward at a time. She stopped just shy of Gemma’s hand, refusing to commit to the full distance. Gemma leaned closer and ran her fingers over the top of Gnal’s head, scratching the area behind her ears. Gnal’s particles took on a will of their own. They buzzed like an angry nest of hornets until Gnal’s entire body trembled so loudly, the ensuing vibration was audible.

Gnal edged closer, too enraptured by the bizarre sensation to question what in the cosmic dust had come over her.

Gemma plucked Gnal from the ground and sat, placing the entranced cat into her lap. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, still stroking the back of Gnal’s head. “I thought the attic was empty. This is the only place I can go to get some peace and quiet around here.”

“Meow?”

Fresh tears trickled from Gemma’s eyes. “It’s just so frustrating. I’m almost eighteen, you know. Basically an adult and my aunts still treat me like I’m a child!”

This was beyond Gnal’s pay grade. She would stay only long enough for Mop to detangle herself from the cord, before slipping away again. Yes, that’s what she would do. Never mind that her fuzzy body was rumbling like she hadn’t eaten in days. She wasn’t even hungry! Except for more scratches maybe…

You are a level-three eldritch abomination, a disembodied voice lodged deep in the back of her head said. We don’t like scratches!

“I’m graduating next month and they want me to go to the community college across town. Says it’ll be better if I stay close by, but I don’t want to be close by!” Gemma’s clenched fist struck the creaky floorboards with a slam, startling Gnal from her slap.

“Sorry!” Gemma snatched the fleeing cat back into her arms. A few well-placed scratches behind the ears got Gnal settled again. “I hate it here. This town’s always the same, nothing ever changes. I want to get out and see the world for myself.”

They sat this way for hours. Gemma gabbed away, venting about every detail of her totally boring, predictable life. Gnal lost her battle with entropy and pooled into a puddle of fuzzy cat on the floor near Gemma’s legs. It wasn’t until the bats on the ceiling started to stir that Gemma realized the hour. “It’s dark,” she said, to no one in particular. She gathered Gnal’s boneless body and lifted her into the air, until they were eye-to-eye. “You’re a good listener.”

“Meow.”

“It’s silly, because I know we just met.” Gemma narrowed her eyes curiously. “But I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

The teenager stewed on the idea for several seconds more before shrugging it off and setting Gnal back down. She called her goodbyes over her shoulder and disappeared back through the rickety attic door, closing it softly behind her.

“Unbelievable!” Mop stomped out of hiding, looking noticeably redder than usual.

Gnal stretched back out across the dust-riddled floor, too exhausted to ask what she’d done wrong this time.

Mop, naturally, told her anyway. “After eighteen darn years of slinking in the shadows, watching from a distance, and it’s you who got the first hug! You, the absent parent. Figures.”

Gnal planted her face against the floor with a groan.

“It’s just not fair,” Mop sighed. “Us goblins really did get the short end of the stick, you know. No magic, no portals, no fancy cat disguises. It’s just work, work, work, work, until we die.”

“I’m not arguing this with you.”

“You sound just like cosmic order!” Infuriated, Mop slung her backpack back over her shoulder and stormed for the window, taking care to stomp as loudly as possible.

Gnal raised her head. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna go toilet paper something. Make myself feel better.” She crawled through the broken window and slammed it shut. “Don’t wait up!”