[Inglemia] - Right Bastards - From the Journal of Glythbaad Sslurr [by Bill Bridges]

From the The Journal of Glythbaad Sslurr


I have discovered yet another unfortunate aspect to the existential dilemma of, as they say, “being human”: toothpicks.

The human anatomy lacks the elegant, widely spaced, serrated teeth of higher lifeforms. Human teeth are dull and crammed together, more for mashing plant matter than piercing flesh. As a consequence, gray matter tends to get caught between molars, necessitating use of a… toothpick.

I of course purchased a fine ivory one, rather than settle for the common, disposable wooden variety used by most humans. After some awkward moments I finally figured out how to implement it and successfully extracted the now-rotting piece of goblin brain from between my teeth.

Goblin brain is not really a delicacy, but insane goblin brain – well, now that is a nice treat. All forms of insanity add different degrees of taste to the brains they inflict. I believe the proper metaphor here would be “marination.” Yes, insanity marinates a brain. The longer the affliction, the more tender the mind.

These goblins were relatively new to their insanity. I don’t know what drove their reasoning faculties askew and I didn’t really care. They had invaded a district of town where they were proving to be a nuisance. Nobody would miss them if they disappeared from the streets. And certainly nobody would object to me “studying” their brains to “better understand” their insanity so that its causes can be predicted (and so recreated at will, for culinary purposes).

My goblin hunt commenced at night. Their minds were easy to detect, not just because most residents were asleep at that hour but because their madness proved rather loud telepathically, akin to the banshee-like howl of someone playing the bagpipes. I quickly tracked a number of them and followed by levitating above (they were so focused on chasing urchins that never thought to look up).

When I felt they were sufficiently removed from the earshot of a constable, I prepared to lash their fragile minds into mush. But then I had a rather somber thought: Why be so direct and quick? When, oh Glythbaad, had you stopped playing with your food? I had, of late, failed to indulge in the finer things of life, and although these goblins hardly counted, they could at least afford a taste of cat-and-mouse.

I listened intently to their insane chattering and slowly, here and there, introduced compulsions into the noise that, one by one, turned goblin against goblin. What fun!

I did, however, have to cut the melee short when one goblin bashed out the brains of another, spoiling my coming feast. I somewhat wistfully destroyed their minds, all without them ever knowing what was happening to them. I then glided down and, with the aid of a knife and telekinesis, extracted their brains. Sitting on a nearby crate, I chewed slowly, savoring the taste. They lacked the bite of a hobgoblin brain, but there were certainly sweeter – there’s a reason Illithid’s refer to it as “goblin fruit”. A good desert for my exertions.

My reverie was broken by the screams of a prostitute and her “John,” who had sought to use the back alley for a tryst. I tried to explain that I was only putting an end to a public menace, but my mouth was still full of brains. Not having yet fully mastered the use of the human speech apparatus, I could only mumble as cerebrospinal fluid ran down my chin. The look of horror on their faces made me hungry again, but I was full and had to watch my synaptic calories lest I put on cranial weight. (Although, perhaps this does not occur in human frames. I am told fat goes to the belly.)

I took to the air and headed home. I became plagued by the piece of brain between my teeth, necessitating my stopping off at a night market and acquiring my fine ivory toothpick. It came with a nice velvet carrying case, so I can practice proper hygiene after my next feast afield.