In Which I Have Friends

The morning after our starlit exchange, Glob was back to normal, gruff and crude. But I saw something else in her now, behind the muck and the pong and all the eye rolling. There was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Or perhaps it was always there, and I simply hadn’t looked long enough. Don’t get me wrong, she still spat and belched and smelled like the inside of a horse, but after that night, she always looked a little different in a way I could never quite explain to anybody else.

The rest of the ride home was largely uneventful, save for a broken spur on the cabbage, a distressing shortage of cheddar, a run-in with the roving sentient hailstorm known as ‘Khrark’ that absolutely clobbered us and gave everyone two black eyes, as well as a brief but intense skirmish with the notorious outlaw Thunderlung and her marauding band of electric skeletons. Overall though, it was smooth sailing, as far as the Great Valley Road is concerned.

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