Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Harold pushed his arm as far as he could up the waste pipe, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench of rotting food from the kitchen sink. “Why can’t devious do this?” he asked. “He usually does all the really crappy jobs.”
“His arms are too short.” Jasfoup squatted a little distance away, upwind, and watched.
“Well he’s – Ah! I’ve found the blockage. It’s right at the U-bend.” Harold pulled his arm back out of the pipe and opened his hand. They looked at the partially decomposed corpse of one of the few races.
“It’s a young sprite,” said Jasfoup. “Poor little chap.”
“What was he doing in my drainpipe?” asked Harold. “It seems a stupid thing to do.”
He was trying to get into the house I expect,” said the demon. “With all the blood wards it’s like a fortress, but the pipes and cables are a weak point.”
“What do we tell his parents?” said Harold. “Who are his parents, even?”
“The ones looking for a missing child,” said Jasfoup. He looked up as the imp appeared. “Ah! Devious. Get rid of that long bendy bit of wire and find me an old cigar box as a coffin.”