Seminar

I decide to ease my mind by writing a short story and it kind of took a life of its own….

Seminar

 

The blue blinds billow silently as the breeze catches them, and a snatch of giggling emerges from the room within.

 

I sigh. I had a feeling already that this was going to be one of those hours of my life, stolen away by goblins and lost forever. Giggling goblins at that, the worst sort.

 

Most of those at the gathering are human, or enough so to qualify for the title, though an experienced goblin hunter knows enough to realise looks aren’t everything.

 

I mean, the chief goblin actually looks far more like an elf with a problem with self-esteem and personal hygiene. Take away the  facial piercings and the mantis-like figure and she’d almost pass for human. In the dim light of a nightclub, with your beer goggles on, she’d pass for all right for an off-night.

 

They don’t know who I am, of course. They think they do, but they’ve gotten careless in recent years and while it’s taken me a few years to track down this nest, I’m here now and they trust me. They think I’m a nice doormat of a teacher who is painfully eager to please and a pushover for other staff to manipulate. They can’t deny I’m a good teacher, but I still never get my dues and I get passed over for more popular newcomers for the plum jobs.

 

It’s a good cover and no one in the chief goblin’s coterie has the faintest idea of what’s coming. Actually, nor have I. I haven’t finalised my plan yet, but I’ve got my little bottle of Holy water in my pocket, just in case. I’ve been biding my time for the last two or so years, sometimes forgetting myself just who I am and what I am doing here.

 

I slip in, trying to be unobtrusive but a colleague accosts me for a hug. I’m not sure exactly what he is but I smile warmly but distractedly before seeking a seat at the very back. These briefings, so pretentiously designated as “Staff seminars” are utterly tedious but I can feel the tension coming off the newcomers like sweat in a Turkish bath. Some of them even clutch pens to take notes.

 

The usual format of introductions trickles by, glacially slow, and then the real meat begins.

I switch off. I’ve heard it all before. I filter it all out and just watch as the chief goblin cavorts manically, her face twisting into grotesque imitation of smiles. She can’t resist mangling language, turning innocuous words into parodies of themselves by adding extra letters. It’s supposed to be funny but it’s painful, or it would be if she were actually human. If she were human she’d be ashamed of the crimes she’s committed tonight against the English language. As it is, I can see the rough line of her spine emerging from her tunic, and the typical goblin scales and knobs are almost fully visible tonight. To a human she just looks mildly anorexic, and without any sense of sartorial style.

 

I’ve not been certain before tonight but it seems now that the boss is not a goblin at all but a human enchanted, enthralled by this creature and manipulated to her bidding. Well, that’s good. There are two more goblins, young ones, present, as far as I can see, and a few others I’m not certain of. With the chief goblin dealt with, the two youngsters will flee, and any others will retreat, I think. That is, if I do anything. But I don’t think I will. Not tonight.

 

The young one is speaking now and I feel a rush of sudden anger. A whole host of options fill my mind. I want to shout and protest at this gross imposition of extra, unpaid work, all because a few individuals want to put on a show. The humans have no idea how much work they’re imposing, but the goblins have calculated it to the nth degree. They go so far as the next-to-last straw that breaks the camel’s back, and then stop. It’s a form of torture they’re very good at. There’s no fun if people realise what’s going on and say no. But like frogs in hot water we just accept and accept and accept until our flesh falls away and we become soup for goblins. Of course, this is all a metaphor. Goblins haven’t eaten humans in millennia, except for a few rare cases that have been poorly documented.

 

The humans are sitting there smiling and I can see the magic dust twinkling in the evening sunlight. Every time the chief goblin moves clouds of it stream off her like dandruff and it pacifies everyone. I can hear a few dissenting thoughts but no one voices any concerns.

 

The hour is up and a minion, who is probably a goblin goes off to get drinks ready and like the good little slave I am I go through to help. Enough is enough. While her back is turned I add Holy Water to the bowl of fruity punch and to the wine. It won’t harm the humans but it’s going to be interesting what it does to the goblins. It’s been a long time since I did this and I’ll be glad to get it over with. I’ve had to breathe through an inhaler daily to survive the dust, though everyone thinks it’s Ventolin, and I’d like to breathe properly again.

 

“Here’s to the new term!” says the chief goblin, raising her glass of punch and clinking it with that of the goblin minion next to her. I can see her skin throwing off yet more dust and an artificial joviality fills the room like the office Christmas party, fuelled by cheap wine and white lines. Goblin magic is more subtle these days than it used to be but it IS effective.

 

She slings the whole glass down her throat and as I watch, she starts to shrink, her loud voice crying out shrill but diminishing rapidly as she dwindles from almost six feet tall to a speck on the carpet.

The curious thing is that no one notices her vanish; I guess it must be the magic. Minds simply edit her out of the story and restore it to where it might have been if she’d not been there

 

The two young goblins stare at where she was, their eyes full of horror and their mouths still full of juice. There’s a dilemma going on here: spit or swallow?

 

In the end, they spit, but discreetly into a pot plant. When they come back I can see their magic has faded almost to nothing just from having it in their mouths and know they are no danger to me, or anyone for many years. You can’t kill a goblin but you can make their lives very unpleasant.

 

“Why don’t you two go and wash the glasses?” I suggest with a smile.

 

“Yes, Boss,” they chorus and as they walk away, trying not to abase themselves and as they creep past me, a faint mosquito whine rises from the carpet.

 

It’s going to be decades before she comes back from that one.              

 

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17 thoughts on “Seminar

  1. This made me giggle mostly because I felt I was there observing the whole thing. I know too well how these staff seminars work, which in reality is just an opportunity for the organisers to feed their own egos! Usually when I attend these sort of events I escape into my own little world while they babble on about nothing.

    • It started off as a means of describing what happened and by the time I got to the giggling I changed direction completely and ended up enjoying myself rather a lot.
      Egos, yup.

  2. Hilarious. 😀
    And yet very saddening to think of how very authentic this is. I’m so fed up, so fed with this type of characters, with having to put up with absurdity, futility and ludicrous brain waves.

    Well, thank you for sharing the story with us. It has given me genuine pleasure.

    • I am glad.
      i enjoyed writing it a lot and it’s put me in a much beter state of mind.
      satire is a good way to vent spleen harmlessly!

    • yeah, well, you notice how I DIDN’T step on the shrunken goblin and crush her to death.
      Even when I’m angry i still don’t really want to harm anyone!!
      I wish it did work; I have holy water in my fridge from Walsingham…..

  3. Oh Viv…
    from the first paragraph I was captured…
    and I never had so many laughs as I understood the overtones of what and who these character could be!!
    Again, I say it girl, you have a fantastic creative way of writing…all comes from that great mind you possess!!
    loved it ..
    Encore !! Encore!!
    hugs,
    Maria

    • Thanks Maria.
      No, I haven’t done anything with it yet as I only wrote it on Tuesday!!!
      glad you liked it!

    • It’s lovely to have you here.
      The funny thing is that when I break down this story into its metaphorical components, this is pretty much what actually happened a month or so after I wrote this; in real terms the Goblin Queen was dismissed and I did nothing more than simply be nice(holywater?). Such a relief.
      So you’re self-employed? Fun until the buck stops with you!

      • You did the right thing, brought this to mind instantly,although it was not quite as I remembered.

        Proverbs 25:21-22

        21 If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink:
        22 For thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head, and the LORD shall reward thee.

      • OOH, shivers down the spine. I thought very much of those verses from the Bible and also of Jesus’ words about the same things.
        thank you!

  4. Pingback: Going to the Dark Side ~ villains in the writer’s psyche « Zen and the art of tightrope walking

  5. Oh Valiant Viv!
    You are my hero! ~laughing~
    I have been to a couple of Goblin feasts and only sat quietly wanting to Vanquish the villains, perhaps doing so in my head as I tuned out the incessant drone of their nefarious plots of mundanity.
    This was so much fun to read!
    Thank you for sending me here! This was the giggle in my day!
    I shall have to return when I have more time to explore.

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