Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 13
~

When I heard rubber on gravel outside, I checked the time on my tablet. Almost ten o’clock. What had Thomas so entertained at the Daze residence so long? Had I ever had a non-business conversation with Daze before? He has always been pretty good about answerin’ questions in the fewest syllables as possible.

I rolled off my bed and headed downstairs to greet my idjit human guest. Ten o’clock. What was he thinkin’, traipsin’ around the Hamlet in the wee hours?

I flipped the hall lights on from the top of the stairs and the human groaned, or something. Still haven’t gotten used to the strange noises their kind make. If it isn’t a growl, it makes no sense. We ogres have about fifty meanin’ful tones that come from deep down.

I stopped to let him hike up to me. Ten o’clock. What kind of guest leaves his host to worry until the wee hours?

“You didn’t have to turn on every light in the house for me,” the fool mumbled.

So I flipped the switch off, and two seconds later I heard a shoe-covered toe catch on a riser, and the crumple of the human on the stairs, with a matching four or five groans. Do ogres groan? No. There’s a few growls for that.

“Ow. Didn’t mean you had to turn them off, either.”

So, I learn today that they can’t make up their minds. “Ya humans only know how to complain,” I said, flippin’ the switch again.

Yep. He was on both knees, hand strugglin’ to find purchase of a rail. “Ya enjoy crickets and grubs tonight?” I asked.

“Daze’s missus put out a really nice, human-style dinner,” he said. “Pork chops. Mashed potatoes. Green bean casserole. Felt like home.” He stood finally, a grin crossin’ from ear to ear. “She said it was a treat having an excuse to turn on the oven and stove top. Never occurred to me trolls don’t cook their food.”

“They like crisp, fresh crickets,” I said.

“Daze said you all love to tease trolls about their menu. You might consider giving it a break. They don’t appreciate it, I’m pretty sure. Certain, actually.”

Trolls and humans whine too much. “What else would we tease them about?” I asked.

Thomas took two steps toward me and stopped, shot me an expression that prolly meant something to a human.

“I really enjoyed the evening with Daze and his family. They were really nice. This is why I wanted to come to Black Lake. If I haven’t mentioned lately, I really appreciate that I, that you, let me, uh, invite myself up here.”

His cheeks tinged a rosy hue. I think humans do that when they’re angry, embarrassed, or excited. We ogres have a simpler method of expressing ourselves. We just growl. Every ogre can tell which growl is which. It’s so much simpler. No words needed. Saves time.

“Yeah. Sure,” I answered. “Drove by the site. The crew got a lot more done today than I expected.”

He reached the landing. “Those trolls. They don’t waste a single motion.”

“So ya’re a troll lover now. Pretty sure half the crew is ogre.”

“Why are you being a jerk?”

A jerk? Snort. I’m an ogre. It’s our nature. He shoulda figgered that out by now. “Ya stink. Better go take a shower. Don’t know how Daze and his folk put up with that odor.”

He crunched up his face in a way an ogre could never manage. I need to take a class on human facial expressions. Might help my conversations with these idjits.

~ Ezra ~

I had woken a bit ago, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I stretched out and grabbed my phone off my nightstand. A couple minutes before midnight. Kriz would still be workin’.

I texted, “Ya still workin?”

A full minute later he answered, “Any reasonable ogre is asleep at midnight.”

“So. Ya’re workin,” I returned.

“Stuff don’t code itself,” he texted. “Why are ya awake?”

“Mind’s swirling with thoughts.”

“Ya thinkin about that human?” That bull can really manage a phone’s tiny keyboard. Don’t know how he does it. If it wasn’t for the mic function, I would never text. I smiled. If he used his mic, every word would show up as its own sentence.

Belatedly, his comment hit mean. Kriz isn’t really big on teasin’ me. But since he completely lacks tact, his off-the-tip-of-his-brain comments come across that way sometimes. Usually. Always. I’d rather think of it as teasin’. Otherwise, I might have to hate him. Smack him around, some, at least. Go ogre hen on him.

“More about all the trees ya and Ike destroyed today,” I answered. It was kinda true. About half.

“Don’t get yar panties in a wad.” A moment later he continued. “Enough soil on that watershed a relocation truck pulled up everything with a trunk more than two inches in diameter.”

Took me a sec to understand what that meant. I’d seen one of those enormous trucks on the road, escorted by SUV’s with a gazillion lights flashin’. Hadn’t realized what it was, with those ginormous spade-looking maws hangin’ off the back. I had mentally joked aliens had finally arrived to set the world right.

“Some ogre sign wavers cried over the scrub that went into the mulcher.” Great. He didn’t have to include that bit of news. Another thought to keep me awake.

I closed my eyes and snuggled into my quilt, unsure what I wanted to share with Kriz next. In writin’, well, textin’, a lot of meanin’ is lost. And I had a lot of emotion bottled up with my thoughts right now. Must be a hen thing. Don’t think bulls ever have a stray thought. Thinkin’ at all is tough for em.

A ping made me wake my phone again. “Where do the fools think the wood that smokes their favorite barbecue comes from?”

My chest tightened. Mind whirred. Yeah. Like lovin’ how cute baby pigs are, and turnin’ around and wiltin’ over how great the bacon at breakfast tastes.

“Rumor is,” he texted. I waited. “The troll crew was impressed with yar human’s work ethic today.”

A growl rumbled in my chest. “He ain’t my human.”

“But ya sure are his favorite ogre.”

Where in the world did he get that? Someone had to have told him, because he’s the worst person at noticin’ anything around him. Sometimes it really sucks havin’ a favorite cousin who’s autistic.

“Who told you that!” I edited my text to include the exclam.

“Obvious even to me,” he answered.

Really? No stinkin’ way. The liar. “Liar.”

~