Gremlins in the House

Saturday morning. The living room is a disaster: crumbs in the couch cushions, a mysterious sticky patch on the rug, and what might be a whole pinecone under the coffee table. You decide enough is enough.

You drag the vacuum out of the closet, plug it in, and flip the switch.

VRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM.

Somewhere down the hall, a door bangs open.

"HRRRK!"

Two goblins come skidding around the corner at full speed. Allium is in front, brown hair sticking straight up, ears pinned flat, eyes the size of dinner plates, waving a wooden spoon like a sword. Right behind her is Basil, glasses crooked, black ponytail flying, holding a frying pan over her head like a shield. Both are still in their oversized sleep shirts.

"DA BEAST IS AWAKE!" Allium shrieks. "IT GOT BOSS! IT GOT BOSS!"

"Stay back, Boss!" Basil yells, heroically planting herself between you and the vacuum. "Do not make eye contact! It can smell fear!"

The vacuum keeps humming innocently.

Allium drops into a crouch, teeth bared, growling low in her throat. "Grrrrr... Allium not scared of you, loud-mouf! Allium bite you! Allium bite yer face!"

"It doesn't 'ave a face, Allium!"

"Den Allium bite yer butt!"

She lunges. The vacuum hose swings toward her. She shrieks, leaps straight up onto the back of the couch, and clings to it with all four limbs like a startled cat.

"IT TRY TO EAT ALLIUM! IT TRY TO EAT ALLIUM, BOSS!"

Basil swings the frying pan at the vacuum, misses completely, and bonks herself in the shin. "Ow! Ow! Okay, new plan, new plan!" She grabs your arm with her free hand and starts tugging you backward with surprising strength. "Boss, we must retreat to da bathroom. It cannot follow us in dere. Dere's no outlet."

She glances back at the vacuum, still humming, sitting perfectly still in the middle of the rug.

"...Probably."

From the top of the couch, Allium points dramatically at the machine, ears trembling.

"Boss! Do da fing! Da off fing! Before it eat da 'ole 'ouse!"

It's bath night. You told the girls an hour ago to go wash up, since they both smell faintly of the dumpster behind the pizza place (don't ask). They said "yes, Boss." They did not go wash up.

Now you hear rustling, giggling, and the crinkle of plastic from the living room.

You lean around the doorway.

The living room looks like a tornado hit a convenience store. Couch cushions are on the floor. A trail of towels runs from the hallway to the coffee table. The cabinet under the kitchen sink is wide open, and its contents (sponges, a bottle of drain cleaner, three rolls of paper towels) are scattered across the rug.

In the middle of the chaos, Allium and Basil are kneeling over a torn-open multipack of fancy fruit-scented soap bars.

Allium has one in each hand. Her cheeks are puffed out like a squirrel's. A single soap bubble floats out of her mouth and pops on her nose.

"Mmmf. Dis one strawberry," she says, chewing with deep concentration. "Is good. Is... very bubbly."

Basil is holding a bar up to the light, sniffing it with her glasses pushed up on her forehead. "Dis one say 'coconut.'" She takes a careful, scholarly nibble. "...It does not taste like coconut. I fink da package is lyin'."

"Lemme try!"

"No. Dis one is fer researchin'." Basil snatches it away and shoves the rest of the multipack under her arm. "Okay. We take da rest to da baff, before Boss sees we found da secret stash under da sink, an'—"

She stands up. Turns around. And freezes.

So does Allium, mid-chew.

Both of them stare at you in the doorway. A towel slides slowly off the arm of the couch and plops onto the floor.

Allium's ears droop. Another bubble drifts out of her mouth.

"...'Ey, Boss," she squeaks.

Basil clutches the soap package tighter, pushes her glasses down onto her nose, and tries very hard to look dignified.

"Boss. Dis... is not wot it looks like." She clears her throat. "We were jus' gettin' ready fer da baff. Like you said. Very obediently." A pause. "Da soap is fer... washin'. Obviously."

Allium hiccups. A bubble comes out.

"...Mostly washin'," Basil adds weakly.

It's a rainy evening, and you're stretched out on the couch watching a cooking show. Allium claimed her spot an hour ago: curled up beside you with her head resting on your thigh, messy brown hair spread everywhere, floppy ears twitching every time someone on screen says "dessert." She's practically purring.

"Mmmh... Boss is warm," she mumbles, nuzzling in. "Best pillow in da 'ole 'ouse."

Then the hallway floor creaks.

Basil shuffles in wearing her big black glasses and an oversized black t-shirt, dragging her blanket behind her like a cape. She stops dead at the end of the couch and stares at the scene: Allium, your lap, zero room left.

Her eye twitches.

"...Allium."

"Mm?"

"Dat is my spot."

Allium doesn't even open her eyes. "Nuh-uh. Allium got 'ere first. Is Allium's spot now. Finders keepers." She snuggles in harder. "Basil can 'ave da floor."

"Da floor?!" Basil drops her blanket in outrage. "I 'ave seniority! I am da elder goblin! Dat means I get first pick of da Boss-cuddles! It is goblin law!"

"Dere is no goblin law."

"Dere is now!"

Basil climbs onto the couch from the other side and tries to wedge herself in next to you. Allium immediately throws both arms around your leg and clamps on like a koala.

"MINE!"

"Move yer big 'ead!"

"Make me, four-eyes!"

What follows is the least coordinated fight in goblin history. Basil grabs a fistful of Allium's hair. Allium bites Basil's sleeve and growls. Basil retaliates with the world's weakest slap. Allium blows a raspberry directly into her face. Basil's glasses fly off and land in the popcorn bowl. A couch cushion hits the floor. So does the remote.

Somehow, through all of it, both of them are still clinging to you.

"Boss!" Basil yells, half-pinned under Allium, squinting without her glasses. "Tell 'er! Tell 'er dat I am da favorite!"

"NO!" Allium shrieks, gnawing on Basil's ponytail. "Boss, tell 'er Allium is favorite! Tell 'er! Tell 'er now!"

They both freeze mid-scuffle, tangled up across your lap, glaring at each other. Then, slowly, two pairs of big, pleading eyes turn up toward you.

"...Well, Boss?"

It's past midnight. Soft rain taps against your bedroom window, a gentle, steady drizzle. No wind. No lightning. Just perfect, peaceful sleeping weather. You're finally drifting off.

Then your door creaks open.

A small green face peeks around the edge. Messy brown hair, floppy ears drooping, big amber eyes shining in the dark. Allium is clutching a pillow to her chest, wearing an oversized sleep shirt that hangs past her knees.

"...Boss?" she whispers loudly. "Boss, ya awake?"

She shuffles in without waiting for an answer and stands at the side of your bed, trembling dramatically.

"Boss... is very scary outside. Very, very scary. Is a big storm. Da biggest storm. Wif da... da fundah."

You listen. Rain. Soft, quiet rain.

Then, from somewhere just outside your door:

WOBBA-WOBBA-WOBBA-BWONNNNG.

It sounds exactly like someone shaking a big sheet of metal. Because that's exactly what it is. In the hallway, clearly visible through the cracked door, is Basil, crouched behind a laundry basket that hides about a third of her, glasses glinting in the dark, gripping a dented baking sheet with both hands and shaking it with all her might.

WOBBA-WOBBA-BWONG-BWONG.

"KRAKOOOOOM," Basil adds helpfully, in a deep voice.

Allium gasps and clutches her pillow tighter, eyes wide with perfectly rehearsed terror.

"Ya hear dat?! Fundah! Scary fundah! Da sky is angry, Boss!" She inches closer to your bed. "Allium is very small an' very scared. An' Basil is also very scared."

"Yes!" Basil calls from behind the basket. "I am terrified! In da 'allway! Where I definitely am not!"

WOBBA-BWONG.

"KRAKOOM."

Allium sets her pillow down on the edge of your bed, very carefully, very casually, like she's just testing the waters.

"So... is maybe okay if Allium an' Basil sleep in Boss's bed tonight?" She looks up at you, lower lip wobbling. "Jus' till da big scary storm go away? Pleeeease?"

Behind her, the baking sheet makes one last weak bwong, and Basil's voice drifts in from the hallway.

"...Also, Boss, if you say no, dere will be much more fundah."

It's the girls' first trip to the mall. You promised them one outing if they went a whole week without eating soap. Somehow, they did it. Mostly.

The automatic doors slide open. Bright lights. Fountains. Music echoing off the high ceilings. A thousand smells at once: pretzels, perfume, cinnamon rolls, new shoes.

Allium and Basil stop dead in the entrance. Their ears shoot straight up. Their eyes go huge.

Then they both scream.

"NYEHHHH!"

And they're off.

Allium bolts in a circle around you, brown hair flying, dragging you by the sleeve, bouncing so hard her ears flap. She's wearing one of your old hoodies, sleeves way too long, flapping around her hands.

"BOSS! BOSS! Look! LOOK! Is a shiny store!" She points at a jewelry shop. "An' a smelly store!" A candle shop. "An' a store wif ONLY SOCKS! Who need dat many socks?! Allium need dat many socks!"

Basil is right behind her, glasses fogged up with excitement, clutching a crumpled mall map she tore off a stand. She's trying to read it upside down.

"Boss, Boss, I 'ave made an itinerary." She points at random spots on the map. "First, da place wif da big pretzels. Den da video game store. Den da pet store, so we can say 'ello to da puppies. Den da fountain, 'cause dere's shinies in it—"

"DA FOUNTAIN 'AVE FREE SHINIES?!" Allium gasps.

"People frow dem in! Fer free!" Basil whispers, scandalized. "It is a treasure hoard, Allium!"

They both turn and stare at the fountain with the hungry intensity of two goblins who have never been allowed near a fountain.

Then Allium's nose twitches. She spins around.

"Wait. Wait wait wait." She sniffs the air, hard. "Wot is DAT?! Dat smell like sugar an' heaven an' Allium's destiny!" She points at the cinnamon roll stand, trembling. "Boss! Boss, can we go? Can we go dere? Can we go everywhere?"

Both of them grab one of your arms each, bouncing up and down, pulling you in opposite directions.

"Video games!"

"Cinnamon fing!"

"Shiny fountain!"

"Sock store!"

They look up at you at the exact same time, eyes sparkling, grins wide.

"Where we go first, Boss?!"

The forest trail is quiet this late in the afternoon. Golden light through the trees, birds chirping, the crunch of leaves under your boots. You're halfway through your hike when you hear a twig snap.

Then another one.

Then a loud, whispered argument coming from a bush.

"Shhh! Ya steppin' on me foot!"

"You shh! Ya breavin' too loud!"

The bush shakes violently. Then two figures burst out of it and land on the trail right in front of you.

Goblins. Two of them. Short, green and freckled, with big pointed ears, wearing ragged sackcloth tunics full of holes. One has wild brown hair and a gap in her front teeth. The other has a messy black ponytail and a scowl. Both are holding crude, rusty daggers that look like they were sharpened on a rock. Possibly the same rock.

The black-haired one points her dagger at you, teeth gritted, trying very hard to look scary.

"STAND AN' DELIVER, big-folk!"

The brown-haired one jabs her dagger forward too, grinning wildly. "Yeah! STAN' AN' DELIBBER!"

"Deliver, Allium."

"Dat's wot Allium said!"

The black-haired one clears her throat and turns back to you, chin up, voice low and menacing. Mostly.

"Dis is a robbery. We are very dangerous. Very scary. We 'ave... knives." She waves hers for emphasis. A flake of rust falls off. "So 'and over all yer shinies. Coins, money, dem little green papers. All of it."

"An' soda!" Allium adds, bouncing on her toes. "If ya got soda! Da fizzy kind! Da brown kind dat go tssssss!"

"Yes, and soda," Basil agrees quickly. "Dat is also part of da robbery."