These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Balphrus & Jabb

Balphrus T. Rog and Jabb R. Wocky had developed a friendship over the years, even though they lived in two very different countries. Balphrus hailed from Moriah in the mines of Middle Earth, and Jabb enjoyed his pleasant life in Wonderland as the favorite pet of the Queen of Hearts.

These places were so different, that one could say, "They lived in different universes."

"So, how did we meet?" asked Jabb.

"Well, I seem to recall, that we both have such ongoing cases of heartburn, that we scorch the countryside wherever we go," Balphrus offered his friend. "We met on a production stage for Smoke-Vince, an anti-heartburn medication, that we were advertising, while trying to gain relief from our own personal situations."

"Yes. I remember now. The cast and crew gave us nicknames. You were 'The Burning Scream' and I was 'Flame Tongue.'"

"That's right," Balphrus said, and changing to a mock-order tone, he added, "Now, crown me."

"Seriously?" quoth Jabb. "You've got another double-decker checker?"

"I have a checkered past. Checkers is my game," Balphrus winked.

"It's nice to have a friend, but when we play checkers you seem a little jumpy," Jabb's smile wrinkled.

"Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump. You have no more players. I WIN!" Balphrus screamed, turning on the sprinkler system by mistake.

"You have got to stop doing that," Jabb scowled through dripping eyelids. "As always, you win. I'm headed home to dry out. I doubt I'll be normal before breakfast."

"Nay, Dear Friend, thou canst not leave," Balphrus beckoned.

"What is it with you, and this King James/Shakespeare dialect?" Jabb was building anger by the minute.

Balphrus ignored the poke. "One of us has to face down Smaug, and defeat him. Elsewise, he will come in, and take over our haunted forest in a New York minute."

"That's another thing!" Jabb blurted out. "Why do they call this a haunted forest? I haven't seen ghost one, since we got here."

"I did. Apparently, their sheets aren't flame-retardant. You were focused on building your house, but I looked away from my construction, once, early on to see about 100 ghosts, carrying suitcases, while wearing backpacks. The one, that locked eyes with me, held out a flat hand to me, and gave me the back of his head, saying, 'Talk to the hand. Talk to the hand.'"

"Got it," Jabb nodded. "So, what do we do about Smaug? We could play another game of checkers, and the winner gets to confront Ol' Nasty Breath."

"You're one to be talking, Foul-Scent," Balphrus spit at him.

"I have sweet breath compared to you," Jabb shot back, "but Smaug beats both of us combined."

"That's why I forfeit the game, right now." Balphrus stonefaced him.

"Now, just wait right there a smoky minute," Jabb said. "We need to play the game in order for me to have the chance to lose, fair and square. I can't be going to see no Smaug."

"Well, we could play Rock-Paper-Scissors to see, who gets to go," Balphrus offered.

"What about this?" Jabb jabbed. "Neither of us goes to see the Golden Deceiver. We keep playing checkers for the rest of the evening. We have a nightcap hot toddy, and then crash until the morning."

"But what if Smaug comes to take over our forest?" Balphrus wondered.

"Then, we flee, like the ghosts fled from us."

"But I can't outrun Smaug," Balphrus lamented.

"I know," Jabb smiled. "I can fly away, while Smaug is dealing with you."

"Well, that's a friend for you," Balphrus said. "I've got a better idea. Let's leave the forest to Smaug, and move to that little hidden valley, where a giant lives, and it's always foggy."

"I like the way you think," Jabb said. "There is something to be said, I guess, for those of us, who know our place. 'It's better to still live with your own stuff than to die as a charred disgrace'."

"Last one in's a rotten pea!" Balphrus quoth. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Green Giant."

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Prompt ▼

"Using one of the following prompts,
write 250-750 words of a nonsense story about a day you spent
at a: zoo, circus, garden, or haunted forest."

Contest:

FORUM

The Whatever Contest -- Closed for Now  (13+) This irregular contest will change each round. Nature poem? Horror story? Whatever. #2232242 by Schnujo is Late to Lannister

Word Count: 693

by Jay O’Toole
on March 29th, 2022