The human twanged on his banjo, humming pleasantly to himself.

“… I bless the rains down in… Arizona!”

He giggled, pleased with his tune. He wore nothing but overalls and a straw hat. His feet dangling over the greenish water of the lagoon. Sunburnt skin peeling on his face and shoulders.

The Goblin walked along the creaking boards of the dock. His fingers tapping to the tune, despite himself.

“Good sound you got there, humie,” said the Goblin.

“Oh! Well thank ya, Boss. Been playing since I could grip the ‘jo only a little after I stopped grabbing at the tit!”

The Goblin nodded. Grabbing at the tit? He was always so confused by human biological humor.

“What can I do ya for, Boss?” said the human.

The older human had stringing grey hair poking out beneath his hat. His long arms were thin and his face hawk-like. He was an old man, just enjoying his days fishing and playing his music. Probably going to keep doing that until a neighbour found him dead in his bed.

The Goblin kicked a rock into the lagoon, ripples of water swam across the glassy surface. Dragonflies and crickets buzzed through the air. A falcon cleaned its feathers on a tree above.

“Sorry to say sir,” said the Goblin. “Gotta talk about the rent.”

“Rent?” Squeee… I paid it. All crimped and clean. My Lord does right by me.”

The Goblin wore a suit that itched in the southern heat.

He shuffled awkwardly. “Your lord is dead. Dead without issue. The Clans were asked to handle things.”

The human cocked his head like a confused dog.

“May I take you for lunch sir?”

“Just tell an old man, Boss.”

“The Clans have the Lord’s authority and the books don’t line up.”

The banjo string snapped.


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