“So you just left?” my sister asked. I was still in Fern Park, having had my phone in my pocket and a desperate need to talk. The pigeons hadn’t understood my plight and the Labrador tied to a nearby bench hadn’t provided any useful advice before a woman in a jogging outfit came out of the bathrooms and took him away.
“Yes, I just left,” I told Binsa. “I mean, what would you have done? And don’t say anything about getting naughty, because that’s not how real life works.”
“I don’t think finding stray women in your bathtub is how actual real life works, either, which just goes to prove we’re not Life Scientists. Go back to your apartment.”
“What if she calls the cops on me?”
“For being in your apartment after she broke in? Unlikely. Maybe she lived there before you? Maybe she’s homeless and needs a place to bathe? Try to understand people, Josh.”
“Whenever you try to sound rational, you come up with the most implausible scenarios.”
“You’re the one calling your sister about random women in your bathtub. Don’t chide me for being implausible. Go back to your apartment.” She disconnected. A pigeon landed near me and cocked its head to one side in a motion that I took to either mean, “Do you have some food?” or, “Do you need to talk about these hallucinations you’ve been having, Josh?”
“I don’t have any food and there’s a woman in my bathtub,” I told the bird. It bobbed its head as if it understood.
Maybe it did.
Somebody had to, didn’t they?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
I walked back into my apartment to find neon blue words floating in the middle of my living room.
Josh Hester
Class: NPC Level: 0 Health points: 4
Race: Human Alignment: Neutral Good
Strength: 10 Intelligence: 11 Dexterity: 10
Charisma: 10 Constitution: 11
Languages: English Special Abilities: None
Magic Items: None
The woman from the stairwell, more recently from my bathtub, was holding a cup of coffee and frowning at the impossible letters. She was now dressed in a pair of high-waisted green slacks and what seemed to be a leather bra. She was barefoot.
Her long black hair was still wet from the bath. She’d obviously made no efforts to dry it, and it was dripping heavily onto my floor. She looked to me and then back to the floating words before heaving a sigh so enormous it made her leather bra creak.
“Not good, Josh,” she said.
“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck is that?” I asked, pointing to her and then to the words.
“That’s who you are,” she said, gesturing to the words. She put her coffee on a packing box and took out a red marble from a pouch cinched around her waist. Tapping it with two fingers she murmured some words and told me, “Now, this is who I am.” Even as she spoke, more glowing words appeared in the air.
Molly Fenriskicker
Class: Barbarian Level: 8 Health points: 104
Race: Elven Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Strength: 16 Intelligence: 13 Dexterity: 17
Charisma: 14 Constitution: 16
Languages: Elven, English, Dwarf
Special Abilities: +6 against all giants, Murder Ballad, Animal Kinship,immunity to poison,
immunity to debilitating inebriation,
-3 against insects, weapons / armor will not deteriorate or break in combat,
+3 to attack / defense in unarmed combat,
+4 to all Bedroom Games, Double-Axe-Tornado
Magic Items: Cup of Jester, Handcuffs of the Night, +2 Amulet of Cat
Summoning, Cedric’s See-All Stone, Veil of Increased Bowel Movements,
Hell’s Axe, Barrette of Illicit Excuses
“There,” she said. “I think that explains everything?”
“It explains nothing!” I told her. Ripe scents of cinnamon and orange filled the room, along with the odor of the coffee the strange woman had apparently made in my kitchen, and then there was her own scent, a mixture of fresh flowers and that particular smell of cordite after a gun’s been fired.
There were sounds coming from my old bedroom, where the door was closed.
“What’s in there?” I asked, walking closer, thinking of the knives in my kitchen, wondering if I could get to them or if the creepy woman had already nabbed them for herself.
“Ooo,” she said. “I’d stay away from that door if I were you.”
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own apartment. How’d you get in here? Why the hell were you in my bath? You need to leave.” I walked closer to my old bedroom, from where I was hearing a strange clicking noise.
“I already told you my name,” the woman said. “Well, I showed you.” She passed a hand through the second group of floating letters. “I’m Molly Fenriskicker. A fighter subclass. A barbarian. An elf. Your stats say you speak English. Can’t you read it?”
“You’re not an elf,” I said. “Elves don’t exist. But you know who does exist? Crazy people. You’re one of them.” There was now an actual thumping from inside my old bedroom, and an erratic hum, like a box fan in need of oiling.
Molly said. “Don’t you know an elf when you see one?” She pulled back her hair to display pointed ears.
“You can buy fake ears anywhere. They even sell them to crazy people who break into people’s apartments to take baths.”
“The door was open. And I needed a bath because you wouldn’t have wanted to meet me when I was chock full of stank, owing to how I accidentally slept in bear piss last night.”
“Bear piss? How did—? No, fuck it. Never mind. The thing is, Molly, I didn’t want to meet you at all, sweaty or not.”
“Whatever, Mr. Zero Level Josh. But seriously, stay away from that room. It’s hard to explain, but there was a problem.” My hand was on the doorknob before I realized I had no idea who was behind the door or how dangerous they might be, so I grabbed up a box cutter.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“I’ve got a knife,” I said, showing it to Molly so she’d know I was serious about her leaving.
“A knife?” she questioned in a mocking tone. “That? Nope. All you’re holding there is a limp dick. And I keep warning you not to open that door, but you’re going to be shit-brained enough to do it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I told her, with full confidence, because nobody can break into my apartment and tell me what to do.
I opened the door.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
My old room was infested with three giant beetles.
I understand how some people wouldn’t think that three of anything counts as an infestation, but size does matter. If you have a small room and it contains even one elephant, then it’s infested.
In this particular case the three beetles definitely counted as an infestation, because they were almost a yard in length. They had horns and enormous pinchers and legs as large as my arms.
One of the nightmares was just inside the door. Another was clawing at a stack of packing boxes as if in dire need of the bath towels inside. The last was peering out the window, tapping at the glass with its claws.
I screamed, “Holy shit!” and then the nearest monster sprouted wings and attacked, trying for my throat. I slashed at it with my box cutter, but my attack bounced off its shell and then back at my chest, so that I managed to stab myself. The beetle slammed into me like a cannonball, lifting me off my feet and tossing me back into my living room.
“Giant beetles,” Molly said, conversationally.
“What the shit?” I shrieked. The beetle was on me, with its claws slicing into my stomach and chest. Dropping the box cutter I frantically grabbed the monster’s pinchers, which felt like dull knives. It took all my strength to keep them from closing around my shoulder, even as the other beetles scuttled forward to the attack.
“Molly!” I yelled. “Help!” I had a brief view of her moving forward with an axe, but was blinded by more glowing letters appearing in midair, this time in red, hovering just above the beetle that was trying to devour me.
Giant Beetle
Level: 2 Health points: 14
Attack Class: 2 Defense Class: 3 (natural armor)
Attack: 1d4-1 (pincher)
Special Attacks: Latch (if pincher lands, next round is an automatic
hit unless victim rolls a strength check) Stink Oil (beetle
releases a burst of foul-smelling oil: victim must save
vs. dexterity to avoid, failure requires a second roll vs. nausea
{Constitution} or be nauseous for 1d4 rounds)
I was losing the battle to force the pinchers away from me, then gasping in pain as a second beetle’s pinchers closed over my leg, at which point Molly let out a yell that rattled the entire apartment.
“It’s about to get . . . COMBAT in here!” she shouted. A flaming battleaxe cleaved down, bisecting the beetle on top of me, which celebrated its death by gushing out a copious array of gore, including a tsunami of green juice that smelled and tasted like a mustard gas attack.
I vomited enthusiastically, then frantically shoved the two halves of the dead beetle away from me before crawling along the floor in an escape attempt that ended when I shuffled headfirst into a wall, nearly braining myself. I dizzily tried to stand, but the second giant beetle slammed into my stomach, at which point I slipped in my own vomit and went down again.
“Hold on, dweeb,” Molly said, in “holy shit you’re useless” tones. I was trying to crab-crawl away from the giant beetle and it was trying to ram its horn into me like some nightmare rhinoceros. I cornered myself in a pile of packing boxes. The beetle clacked its jaws in what I assumed to be laughter.
I squealed.
Molly leapt on the beetle from behind, grabbing one of its wings and tearing it away with a sound like an elephant’s wet fart. The beetle twisted and latched its pinchers around her leg.
“No,” she scolded. “Fuck off.”
She knee-dropped the beetle, cracking its shell, then drove her fist down into the insect, wrenching it back out covered in oily green blood.
“This sucks,” she said, frowning down at me. “You really had to go and open that door, didn’t you? How many times did I warn you?” Not waiting for any answer, she stomped angrily to my couch and wiped her hands on the decorative blanket.
“I hate insects,” she said, talking mostly to herself. I was trying not to vomit again.
“Seriously,” she said, discarding the blanket. “They’re creepy. Don’t you think bugs are creepy?”
“I think I’m hurt,” I moaned. “Where’s that third beetle? Why are they so huge? Who are you? Am I dreaming? This has to be a nightmare, right?”
“Slow down. Your veins are throbbing. You know, when Mom used to talk about how the two of you were hanging out, I always thought you’d grow up to be more… heroic, I guess? Less puke-y, for sure. And I seriously can’t believe you’re a non-player character. That’s ridiculous.”
I whimpered in reply. Not my best moment. But in my defense I’d spotted the last of the beetles scuttling along the ceiling, digging its powerful claws into the plaster, which rained down in little puffs of white.
“When I was a little girl,” Molly said, “I’d dream of teaming up with you. In my fantasies you were a lot more powerful. Noble, even. Guess I was wrong. You just puke and squeal. It’s not a good look, Josh.”
I choked back a squeal and some vomit, vaguely gesturing to the insect above Molly’s head, about to drop on her.
“I already saw it,” she said. “But thanks at least for something.” She flipped one of my kitchen chairs upside down and then jabbed it upward, spearing the beetle with two of the chair’s legs. A thick spurt of the foul green oil lashed across my chest.
Molly thumped the chair back on the floor and sat on it, staring at me, with the giant insect still pinned beneath, slowly dying. Its pinchers snapped at air while its legs scrabbled frantically, but every movement was weaker until finally the bug went still.
Molly stared down at me for a long time. I was still slumped against the packing boxes, stained with a combination of my own vomit and a startling array of unwholesome liquids and repulsive chunks from the dead beetles. Molly’s emotions seemed mixed, but the kindest of them was pity.
“You probably need coffee,” she finally said. “I made enough for both of us.” She stood from the chair, careful to avoid the dead giant beetle pinned beneath. I reached out and tapped the bug with my foot as Molly disappeared into my kitchen. The beetle didn’t react, which was good. But it also didn’t disappear, which was terrible. It meant that it was real.
I stared at it, and at the two halves of the first beetle Molly’d killed, and finally to the one slumped against the nearby wall with a hole—precisely the size of Molly’s fist—in its back.
I thought of how easily she’d killed the three abominations. I thought of how normal she’d looked when she was in my bathtub, besides how she shouldn’t have been there. I thought of the glowing letters still floating in the air, and even as I was looking to them, more of them appeared over each of dead beetles, all saying the same thing.
+19 Experience Points
“What the fuck?” I asked, chanting my new mantra.
When Molly returned from the kitchen she was smiling again. I stared at her, wondering how such brutality could come from such a beautiful woman, and also how she’d managed to avoid getting the slightest speck of bug juice on her clothes. Her green slacks were completely unmarked. Her arms and torso unblemished. She wouldn’t even need another bath. She handed me a coffee and I gulped it down, burning my throat, but unable to stop guzzling. I felt like a child when I handed the cup back.
“Another?” she asked.
I nodded.
She disappeared into the kitchen and I staggered into the bathroom, checking myself for wounds, of which there were several. I stuck my head underneath the shower, but that didn’t feel like enough, so I climbed inside the tub and stood beneath the shower, fully clothed.
After a few minutes I was free of the various remains, although they were now clogging the drain. Molly walked into the bathroom and handed me another coffee. I had to lean outside the shower to drink.
The coffee helped. My head cleared. Honestly, I’d expected the coffee would wipe away all evidence of the giant beetles and even Molly, that everything would fade away in the manner of dreams.
Unfortunately, both Molly and the stink of the beetles in my living room remained. My various wounds were resolute in their pain. But my head was finally clear enough to ask the question charging through my mind. Leaning out from the shower, I stared at Molly.
“I used to know your mother?” I asked.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
