Chapter 8: The Dwarf

[The previous chapters of this long piece of dreck may be found here.]

Shash, Randy, and Sterling stepped out into the night air. It was the deepest part of the night, and Sterling, still in his skunk form, felt uneasy, the same way one feels when you step from a cool house into the midday sun.

“Night,” said Randy, “I hate fucking walking at night.” His words gave voice to Sterling’s sense of disquiet.

“If diurnal pigs can walk in the night, then so can you.” said Shash.

“Of course I can,” said Randy, “I just don’t like it.”

“Why not?” Asked Sterling, hoping to find a reason for the fluttering in his chest.

“It’s not safe,” said Randy, “all of the assholes in the woods… The Coy Wolf, the Cheshire Cat, Brer Fox, those shithead owls… they’re all nocturnal. We three are crepuscular. The dead of night, the height of day, those are not our times. Shitheads rule the middle of the clock.”

“No one is going to bother you if I am with you,” said Shash. “You should relax.”

“Yea, until a fucking brown bear shows up,” said Randy.

“There hasn’t been a brown bear in these woods for a hundred years,” said Shash.

“Summer is coming,” said Randy.

The woods were cool and fragrant. The three animals walked along a well worn path that ambled through alternating stands of pine, beech, and birch trees. At one point they descended into a low area that opened up into a broad swamp. There were many sounds and smells, and the moonlight between clouds illuminated a tapestry of marsh grasses, cattails, and gently swaying phragmites. When they came to the edge of the swamp Shash said, “I have to go in”, so Randy and Sterling waited as the big bear took off his jersey and waded into the muck and water. He nosed about for a while, eating small things that they couldn’t see, making great snorting noises, and occasionally splashing quickly in one direction or another. His machinations stirred up great bubbles of muskellunge, the sulfuric muck at the bottom of the swamp. The egg smell decorated the night air.

“Great Duck,” said the bear, “I love a swamp.” He stepped out of the water, dripped for a bit, then gave a violent shake of his massive black body. There was explosion of water droplets.

“Don’t you two want to go in?” He asked.

“Fuck no, I hate the water” said Randy.

Sterling had been tempted, but wasn’t sure if the idea of wet fur appealed.

“We have to get moving if we want to get to Badger by midday.” Said Randy. “No more mucking about.” He laughed his nerdy laugh and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

With that they set off on a path that went around the swamp. It seemed clear to Sterling that even if they were capable of sloshing through the wettest parts, doing so was to be avoided. The swamp was a new palette of smells. Shash, walking on all fours at the front, made good time, but often stopped to sniff the ground or sample the air. When he did, his neck would stretch up and out, his nose would vibrate, and he would take great huffs of air. When Shash stopped, Randy and Sterling would also sniff to see if they could fathom what the bear had detected, but it was clear to Sterling that he could only catch a fraction of what Shash could smell, so it was no surprise when it was Shash who smelled something dangerous first. It was towards the end of the swamp. The bear stopped, sniffed long and deep, then froze.

He might have remained frozen, but Randy whispered harshly, “what is it?”

Still on all fours, the bear turned his head back, looked over his foreshoulder, and said, “Dwarfs.”

“I hear them,” said Randy, in a voice edged with fear. “It may be only one. Don’t move.” Then he looked at Sterling and said, “Dwarfs are bad luck.”

Just then, a dwarf woman stepped into the light of the trail. She was short and plump, with ivory skin that shone in the moonlight. Her hair was long and flaxen. She was wearing a brown tee shirt with the icon of a gear on it and a pair of cut-off dungaree shorts. Her plumpness pushed out in every direction. She seemed to be built of curves that were both strong and soft looking. Her legs were athletic and smooth, and on her feet were a pair of large hiking boots made of leather.

“Hello, friends” she said in a voice that was both husky and cheerful.

“A female,” said Randy, with a tone of wonderment. “A female Dwarf. Never in my life…”

Sterling felt a sudden bolt of lust boil up from his groin. Before he knew what was happening, his penis was escaping from its sheath. The cool night air made a peculiar sensation on his pecker, but there was absolutely no stopping it. His head was filled with the smell of the dwarf woman.

He was sure that Shash and Randy must be similarly afflicted. Shash turned away from the dwarf and buried his nose into a nearby pile of leaves.

“Holy Duck, she is fragrant,” said Randy. Again, he spoke out loud, in clear earshot of the dwarf woman. He seemed to be in some kind of trance. “Zaftig of Zaftig, it’s like the fucking Venus of Willendorf come alive.”

None of what Randy said registered on the face of the dwarf. She stood smiling, completely at ease and full of good cheer.

“I see you have an American with you,” she said while looking right at Sterling. Her face was beautifully round, with wide cheeks and a mouthful of large teeth.

“What brings you to the woods of Mushamaguntuck, friend?”

“I’m not sure,” said Sterling.

“He’s still in the fog,” said Randy. “We’re trying to help him figure out why he is here”

“How very kind of you, Randy” said the dwarf.

“How do you know my name?” Randy asked.

“We have never met, but I am old and know many things.” Said the dwarf woman. “I believe it was you who tricked Mr. Wolf into drinking shots of Jaegermeister and giving you his phone.”

“It might have been,” said Randy.

“You are the woman called ‘Lykke’ aren’t you?” Said Shash. “I saw you get up and sing ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ at Septemberfest. Even the elves started to cry.”

“That is kind of you to say, Shash,” the dwarf replied, “but there are no elves at Septemberfest.”

“Well, pupal elves,” said Shash.

During this brief conversation, Sterling almost couldn’t see straight because of his overwhelming desire have sex with the dwarf woman. His red rocket, now fully extended and pulsing beneath him, seemed to tug in her direction. His head was filled with the most intoxicating scent of sex. It ran through his nose, down the back of his throat, to his heart, then to his stomach, and finally up his dick. His teeth ached with the smell of it.

“It looks like you have been traveling for a long time.” the dwarf said. “Dawn is not far off. Would you like to come and take some refreshment from the dwarfs? We have fruit and nuts and yoghurt. We can drink mead and beer and if Shash has any dope…”

The bear suddenly lurched to the side of the path and began to roll around in the leaves rather violently. It was a total spasm of motion. It looked like he was trying to scratch off fleas or ants.

Randy stepped forward, his dirty khaki shorts popped out like a tent before him, his tie loosened and askew.

“It is so kind of you to invite us,” he said, in halting words that made it sound as if he were on the verge of choking, “but we must keep going. We plan to visit Badger and see what he has to say. Would you like me to call you and tell you what he says?”

Sterling stepped forward and said, “I want to go. I want to see the dwarves.”

“Dwarfs”, Lykke corrected, “The plural of ‘dwarf’ is ‘dwarfs’.

“I want to go with you and see the dwarfs,” said Randy. “I would very much like to do that.”

Randy, suddenly a bit clearer, stepped between Sterling and the woman. “I’m afraid our American friend is confused. He is unaware of how important it is for us to get to Badger.”

“You can’t tell me what I want to do,” said Sterling, suddenly angry with the Rabbit’s interference. “If I want to accept the hospitality of the dwarfs, I can. You don’t have any right to tell me what I can or can’t do. Even the pigs intimated that maybe I shouldn’t trust you and now I see…”

Sterling’s ears were suddenly assaulted by a very high-pitched sound, like a siren. It was piercing, and he reflexively put his paws to his ears. He looked around to locate the source of the sound, and to his astonishment, it seemed to be coming from the rabbit. Shash stopped rolling around and looked at Randy. The dwarf woman didn’t seem to hear the noise.

“You should make your own decisions.” She said to Sterling. “Perhaps your friends are not your friends at all.”

Despite the siren in his ear, Sterling wanted to look at the dwarf more closely, so he stepped around Randy towards her. Her smell was profoundly beautiful. It was an old smell. A deep smell. A smell of rock and earth and fecundity. His step forward also let him see her wide face better. He marveled at the brightness of her hair and skin and teeth in the moonlight. She seemed both old and young at the same time. He wanted nothing more than to bury his head in her chest and he would have stayed there, transfixed by the sight and smell of her, except for the piercing rabbit scream that filled his head.

Below the scream, at a deep register, in a rumble, he could hear Shash say, “Don’t go with her. Stick with us,” and Sterling’s mind began to clear. He thought to himself, “Why stay with the bear and Rabbit? I owe them nothing. They turned me into a skunk. These dwarfs may have more exciting things.”

Lykke extended her hand. “Do you want to come with me, Sterling?” She asked.

“Yes, yes, I do,” He said, and he reached out to grab her hand, but as he did so, he looked at Shash and Randy. Their wide eyes and open mouths betrayed the deepest anxiety. He realized that he might be in some danger. The dwarf might represent the kind of misery the pigs had joked about. Perhaps he was heading into a trap. Randy and Shash looked genuinely concerned. He recognized their faces. They were familiar to him.

Just as he was about to join hands with the dwarf, he withdrew quickly, as if reacting to the heat of a stove.

“Oh,” he said, stumbling for something to say, for now he was filled with genuine panic and shame over the possibility of following the dwarf. Not wanting to appear rude, he struggled to recover.

“I very much want to go and visit the dwarfs,” he said, “but I should listen to my friends. We have to go see Badger, though I’m not really sure why. I think it is what I really should do.”

“You are in a fog, Sterling, aren’t you?” Said the dwarf. “Do as you wish.”

And with that, Lykke took a step backwards. It was then that Sterling realized that she had been focusing only on him. Her gaze widened and she looked at all three animals.

“Goodby, friends.” She said, “I hope you have safe travel. Tell Badger that the dwarf men miss his company.”

With that the dwarf woman turned and walked into the woods. She strode away with grace, authority, and plump sexuality. Sterling stared at the up and down movement of flaxen hair on her muscular back and the ample shape of her receding buttocks until they grew dim and disappeared into the night.

“Holy fucking shit,” said Randy, collapsing on the ground. “My dick feels like it is going to split open.”

Shash made huge snorting sounds and continued to roll around on the ground. Randy, still on his back, reached into the top breast pocket of his dress shirt and produced a soft pack of cigarettes. He lit one, took a huge drag while staring at the sky, and offered the cigarette to the bear.

Shash sat up. He put his short hind legs out in front of him, took the cigarette, made a cup around his nose, then inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out of his mouth. He did this three times.

“Don’t burn the whole cig, asshole” said Randy. “Sterling, it’s a good fucking thing that you didn’t go with that dwarf.” Said the rabbit.

“That was very close,” said the bear.

“What was the noise that you made?” Asked Sterling.

“That was a rabbit scream,” said Randy, “Most animals can’t stand it.”

“The Coy Wolf doesn’t mind it,” said Shash.

“Fuck the Coy Wolf,” said Randy. “Most animals can’t stand it, and it’s too high for dwarves and humans to hear. She couldn’t hear it, but I’m pretty sure she knew what was going on.”

“Why didn’t you want me to go with her?” Asked Sterling, “I really wanted to go.”

“Of course you wanted to go with her.” said Randy, “She’s like sex incarnate. That’s fertility on parade. I’ve never smelled anything so fucking fragrant in all my life. That is one of the rarest things in the world. When it comes to dwarfs, there is something like one female for every 10,000 males. Thank the duck there aren’t more of them. Who could stand that? But don’t think you would have had sex with her. There is no way a dwarf woman would have sex with a skunk.”

“Really?” Said Sterling, “She seemed like she wanted to have sex.”

“That’s projection,” said Shash, “You think she wants to have sex, but I’m sure she doesn’t want to fuck you. Besides, fucking the earth is a dry business. More than likely, you would have gone down into the dwarf basements, they would have gotten you drunk, and then like twenty male dwarves would have used you as a sex slave.”

“That’s right.” Said Randy, “Those fuckers would have kept you underground as a sex slave for months. You would never see that dwarf maid again. You would have had to live on stale bread and old cheese, sing stupid fucking songs, drink beer, and service old stinky dwarf men until you guessed the name of their favorite drinking cup.”

“It’s ‘Geschwindigkeitsbegrenzung’” said Shash.

“Where did you get that?” Asked Randy. “That’s like three drinking cups ago. The name now is ‘Botschafter.’ You should update the dwarf apps on your phone, Shash. It’s a lucky thing you never got abducted.”

“I’m not afraid of dwarves,” said Shash.

“So dwarves are evil?” said Sterling.

“Evil? What’s evil about having sex with someone who accepted your invitation to a sex party?” Said Randy laughing.

“To the grubs, you are evil,” said Shash. “You just have to be careful. In the woods everything wants what it wants.”

“Shash, did you just quote the Great Duck?” Randy asked.

“Is that the duck?” Shash asked. “I must have read it on one of the coffee cups from Mole’s donut shop.

“Well,” said Randy, snuffing out the end of his cigarette and carefully placing the expired butt into the cellophane of his soft pack, “We should get moving again. That scream might have attracted Owl or the Coy Dog, and though Shash can handle them, I don’t want to have to deal with their bullshit.”

“How far to the Badger’s house?” Sterling asked.

“Badgers den,” said Shash, “Badger lives in a den.”

Next chapter: Crossing the Lawn