Jazz: Monster Collector In: Jazz Attacks (Season 1, Episode 12)

were kind of like a small minotaur with a boar’s head. As I hobbled up one of them pushed off the wall and raised a length of iron pipe. “Where you going, goat-face?”

  I walked straight up to him, doing my best to look intimidated. “Hey fellas, Sarge sent me to clean the latrine, said it’s kind of dirty.”

  “Kind of dirty!” the one with the pipe shouted, then let out a long snort. “That poop-hole’s a real quagmess.”

  The other bvorc smacked the pipe guy in the back of the head. “Quagmire, you moron.”

  “Hey!” pipe guy shouted and smashed his buddy in the head with the pipe.

  “Owww!” the smackee cried out and clenched his head, snorting and sobbing.

  Oh my gods, bvorcs are too easy. “Umm, could someone show me and I’ll get it all clean and comfy.”

  “Go on, show the goat! the pipe wielding bvorc shouted and shoved the other away.

  The shoved bvorc turned and punched pipe bvorc hard in the face, spewing black blood from his disgusting, pig nose. “Come on, goat-face,” he said and lead me back to the latrine.

  “Show him the privy, Glunk, then get your sorry ass back here so’s I can beat you good, you rock mater!” Bleeding nose shouted in a nasally voice.

  My day was getting better and better.

  Glunk lead me to the door then pointed with a warty finger. “You clean it good, cud chewer, or I’ll drop you in.”

  “Sure, sure,” I bleated. I walked in, then called through the closed door, “Hey, did you leave some blue chips in here?”

  I heard him snort, then quickly say, “Yeah, yeah, I did, they’re sorta a blue color, right? Thems is mine.”

  “Blue colored you say? Yeah, sounds like they’re yours, dang it. Better come get them quick before someone else does.”

  The door flew open and the bvorc shambled through, blocking the nostrils of his flat nose with a pair of fat fingers. “Hand them over, quick, I hate the smell of this place.”

  I handed him a couple of blue chips, in-between them I’d sandwiched a parabeetle in a glass petri dish. “You better hang on to them chips really tight,” I said in my best cud demon voice. “I heard Grumpf say’n he was gonna take them.”

  The bvorc, nose still blocked with the fingers, got the most quizzical look on its face that I’d ever seen one of their hideous mugs express. “Who’s Grumpf?”

  Humm, maybe this bvorc was less dumb than I’d guessed. “He’s the guy that’s gonna take your chips, man.”

  The bvorc’s expression flipped from quizzical to furious in a heartbeat. “Oh no he ain’t!” he shouted and balled his fist up tight, breaking the glass. “Oww!” In a rare show of expressive facial range, the dope manage to get surprise on his features right before his entire body went completely paralyzed and he plummeted to the filthy, and I do mean filthy, floor.

  I tried to snag the blue chips back, they represented the last of my ready cash, but they were locked in the creepo’s paralyzed hand. I heard heavy footsteps approaching. I grabbed another prepared petri dish from my belt, laid it on the floor in front of the door, and pressed my back to the wall.

  “Glunk, I told you to get right back so’s I can give yah a beat’n,” the bloody nosed bvorc said. As he stepped in I heard the glass crack under his foot. I’ll admit it was hard not to giggle. “Glunk, you lazy ass,” he said, walked over and gave Glunk a solid kick in the side. “Get up ya louse, this ain’t no time for a nap.”

  Glunk managed to squeak out a high pitched wine though his frozen mouth. “Glunk?” Bloody nose gave Glunk one more nudge, then he looked around. “Where’s that poop scrub’n cud demon got to?”

  Humm, my plan was falling apart here. Adult parabeetles attach themselves to a host about as quickly as they can, then get busy with the paralyzing and egg laying. So why was this moron still standing?

  “Hey, gaot-face,” the bvorc called and began lifting lids and looking down one commode after the other, like I’d be down there for crying out loud. I peeked around the door. Damn, the big galoot had broken the glass, but had also smashed the parabeetle.

  “Hey goat-brains, get up here right now!” The bvorc had his face in one of the commodes. Can’t imagine how he’d survived that experience. I needed to act before he attracted any attention; Moxie was counting on me. Maybe if I hit him with the zoom-stick, my tazer equipped boomerang, while his face was still in the john, no one would hear him scream. I drew the zoom-stick and flipped it open, but before I could tap the charge button, the big, bad, and smelly stood up. He had a disgusting ring around his face. Man, I didn’t think a bvorc could possibly be any uglier. Guess he proved me wrong.

  “What the heck are you doing there? And what is that thing?” he shouted, stomping over to me.

  I flipped the ‘rang closed and tucked it away.

  “Here, let me see that!” He shouted. I had to end this quick.

  “See what?”

  The saggy skin around his eyes darkened a couple of shades and drool ran from his lower lip where his tusks pushed it out. “That thing you just had, what was that?”

  He was getting louder, and angrier. I reached my hands in my pockets. He grabbed me quicker than I thought he was capable of, squeezing my arms to my sides in two very strong hands.

  “What are you play’n at, demon?” he shouted, sticking his stinking face very close to mine. I felt my stomach heave but I had to keep from puking. For one, I’d blow my cover. For another, I couldn’t throw up the Not Now Stone without it going into instant backlash. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep my stomach contents down.

  “I was just showing you the thing you wanted to see.”

  He glared at me like he was working out what I’d said. “Okay, then show me.”

  “I can’t, you’re holding my arms.”

  “Okay, but no funny stuff,” he said. He turned and set me on top of the nearest commode seat. I didn’t even like my boots touching the dang thing. He probably figured I’d be less maneuverable from there, but, as disgusting as it was, it had put me at even height with him. “Remember, no funny stuff.” he said as he took a hunk of pipe from out of his jacket and rapped me on the horns with it. Glad I was wearing my helmet.

  “Fine, I’ll show you, just don’t hit me.” I started to pull another parabeetle from my pocket, but I had no idea how I was going to administer it without risking the beetle biting me instead.

  The bathroom door flung open and the sergeant cud demon burst it. “You’d better be scrubbing this floor spic’n span, new-be.” He looked at the two of us and his busy eyebrows turned down into a sharp V. “Hey!” he bleated. “What are you doing with my private, bvorc?”

  The bvorc grabbed me by the scruff of my jacket and his eye bags darkened further. “I’ll do whatever I want to ‘em, demon, and you’ll keep your goat-trap shut about it.”

  “Goat!” the sarge shouted with a long, drawn out bah on the A sound.

  Yep, I’d totally lost control of the situation. I still had plan S in my back pocket, but I really wanted to save that for a friend of mine. When the bvorc open his mouth to shout, I shoved the petri dish in and wailed his jaw with the hardest uppercut I could manage. His mouth slammed shut, glass broke, his eyes went wide, and then he stopped moving. Fear welled in his tear filled eyes then he toppled over backwards. Being that he still had a hold of my jacket, I went with him.

  “Oomph!” I landed face down on top of the beast. I pushed with all my might, I needed to rip out of the jacket as quick as a flash, and then come up with a brilliant plan to administer my last parabeetle to the cud demon. But the jacket was tough and refused to tear.

  That’s when I felt my head snapped back, heard the jacket give way, and found myself rising upward.

  “What’s all this laying about, new-be?” The sergeant had me by a horn. He brought his face close to mine; man, talk about cud breath.

  “It’s these no good bvorcs, sir. They come in here disturbing my work, then just lay down and take naps. Bv
orcs are no good lazies, I’ll tell you.”

  The sergeant glared then tossed me away. “Yeah,” he said, giving the nearer bvorc a good kick. “I’ll agree with you there.”

  Alright, I had him going. “Lazy and stupid that’s what my nanny always said,” I said, really juicing up the bahs on the nanny.

  “Shut up!” he shouted and wailed me in the head with the blackjack. Really, really glad I’d worn the helmet. “Keep your cud hole shut and finish up in here. I want you back in line when the Boss arrives. Got it?”

  “Got it, yes sir, I got it.”

  “You’d better,” he said. He cast the paralyzed bvorcs a disapproving glance, then, gulping up a wad of cud, sauntered out.

  Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could have stood the smell.

  I waited just long enough to be fairly certain he’d be gone, then I cracked open the door and peeked down the hall. Both ways looked clear so I dashed out and back to the door the bvorcs had been guarding. It was locked, but nothing armored, standard mallow made interior door. I stepped back, focused my eyes on the door then relaxed, letting them go out of focus. My shadow sight, an ability to see into the magical spectrum, kicked in. Sure enough there was some kind of cantrip cast on the door, probably an alarm of some kind, no matter. I took an old rubber eraser from my pocket and ran it around the door seam. If you give an inanimate object a little mallow charge, it tends to lend whatever normal use said object had into its equivalent magical use, in