Jorz

Grandpapa Klow
~

Funny story, from about twenty years ago. Purdy sure it was between sophomore and junior year. The summer had ground down to nothing and I’d be headin’ back to the Plain for school in a couple of days. I was sittin’ at the breakfast bar with Papa and he asked me why I spoke so meanly to and about David—my human guest for the summer.

Hadn’t really considered I talked to David differently than I might to the average troll, or goblin. Now, orcs, I’m generally very polite to, since they’re such reasonable, and gentle creatures.

As my mind does too often, it connected to a meanin’ful moment in the deeper past, that oddly stuck with me. Ya know, funny things sometimes remain lodged in yar skull, maybe even become a daily influence. For the good or not.

I shared with Papa a comment Grandpapa Klow made one summer on the ranch when we were drivin’ cattle up to greener grass. He said something about preferrin’ to drive mean steers, than sittin’ down and engagin’ in a conversation with an ignernt human.

That appeared to strike Papa poorly. He stood and walked out of the room. Three minutes later Grandpapa dialed me up and to the best of my recollection, the conversation went like this.

“Ya tryin’ to get me dead or something?”

“What are ya talkin’ about?” I asked him. I’m slow, but as I said it, hard not to connect to the last bit between me and Papa.

“Ya have any other stories ya wanta warn me about before ya share em with yar papa?”

“Uh.”

“Don't know why your papa is so irritated. That had to be a decade ago. He threatened to come out to the ranch and put a bow bolt through my shoulder. Why would ya tell him such a thing?”

“About yar comment about humans?”

“Let me tell ya something. Next time ya’re gonna quote me and it’s something idjiotic, just be aware that I was makin’ a joke.”

“It didn’t sound like a joke to me,” I told him.

“Well, I’d hate to have to go to war with yar papa, so stop tellin’ him stupid things that I may have said when I was hot and tired, on a horse.”

“So ya enjoy havin’ conversations with humans?” That mighta been an ornery thing to ask.

“Well. I didn’t say that, but a bigoted remark about humans isn’t something I’d say out loud to the average adult ogre, especially to yar very politically correct papa. He has a head on his shoulders. Clearly ya don’t.”

“So I should take to heart, nothing ya say? Ya really like to impart wisdom a lot.” Rare to see Grandpapa a bit uncomfortable, so it was worth gettin’ the most out of the moment.

He growled. “Ya’re soundin’ as ignernt as the average hu—”

“The average human? Oh. Guess I shouldn’t share that with Papa either, huh?”

A very deep growl rumbled over my cell phone, but cut off abruptly. I checked. Yep. The old bull had hung up on me. I’d pay dearly for that conversation. I jerked—maybe a guilty conscience. Mama had walked into the kitchen.

“Share what with Papa?” she asked.

I considered my options, I’m sure. Stickin’ a knife in Grandpapa’s back prolly wasn’t my best option. Can’t remember how I avoided answerin’ Mama. But I do recall the irritation on Papa’s face when he rejoined me at the breakfast bar a second later.

To this day, my less than gracious comments I accost David with every day, brings back that old memory. But obviously it hasn’t changed how I talk to David. The man quite readily insults me back with ease, no matter how deep my growls linger. He’s quick to insult ogre kind without a second thought, too. Yet I’ve never had a single misgivin’ for askin’ him to join Ogre Ware.

Misgivin’s every day for joinin’ him on the basketball court. But he’s been a good OW executive. Now if he’d just share the rock once in a while, the stinkin’ ball hog.

~