The Goblin Market
Jan 16, 2008 by rilla
I have a trick for finding the goblin market. I think very hard about being totally ripped off (financially), I take a piece of chalk, mark a for sale sign on the inside of my front door, and walk out of it. When I open my door in this precise way, I do not exit my building in the usual fashion. I do not see the long hallway stretching past countless other apartment doors. I see a cobblestone road leading through a busy town. Sometimes the town is a dirty little farming community, and sometimes it's just a disgusting alleyway of some larger unknown city. I'm not there to explore the city though, I'm there for the wares.
I have a trick for finding the right vendor in the market. I think very hard about being totally ripped off (financially), I close my eyes and turn around once. When I open my eyes, there's always a little stand with a collection of goblins ready to scream at me about what I need at that exact moment. The one thing you are totally money back guaranteed in the market is a horrible headache. I once had a little one yell in my face that I needed a Whirlygig of Immaculate Conception.
"GET YOUR WHIRLYGIG of immaculate conception. GET YOUR WHIRLYGIG! WHIRLYGIG'S HERE! WHIRLYGIG of immaculate conception."
I gathered, through rumor and innuendo, that it would indeed help anyone bear a child. The only problem is you're stuck with a little goblin to raise afterwards. Most people willingly give the goblin baby back to the goblin market. Have you ever wondered where goblin's come from? It's not the birds and the bees, that's for sure. The price, according to the deceitful little buggers, is an orphan's cry, which are about a dime a dozen. Always sounds like a steal of a deal.
My usual reason for going to the market is simply to get a couple of apples. No! Not for me, of course, not for me. I'm not a total idiot. A goblin apple, sitting in a bowl of run of the mill apples will look odd, but chances are pretty good that someone looking for a midnight snack won't notice what they're biting into. I love these things! One bite, and bing-bang-boom, you're asleep dreaming the most frightful things in the world. Snow White can tell you all about it. It sucks, no doubt about it. BUT! There's nothing like an apple nightmare to feed on; you'll find that you've got the energy of ten men -- those Olympiad types, too. The big problem though, is that the apples cost an arm and a leg. It's a messy business, that.
I think I saw what they made out of those arms and legs once. Have you ever seen those shrunken heads in museums? The gobbos can do that to pretty much anything, except they have this trick of keeping the original skin pigmentation -- they've got tricks for everything. They mummify them together, somehow. The hand clenches the ankle, so you've go this disgusting bowtie like conglomeration of grossness. No one's ever tried to sell me one, so I guess they're pretty frightening. I heard about a guy who bought one once, though. They say that if you get paranoid enough to believe that you're always being followed, or always being chased, or that you're going to be chased, or something like that, the flesh-bow tie charm will guarantee that your stalker type is tripped up by something. Supposedly this will slow them down, so that you can get away. Each time you use it, a finger lifts off of the ankle. Fourth use, and you're boned, man. I guess that's how they figured out the cost. You can be damned sure I wouldn't pay for it.
I have a trick for finding the right vendor in the market. I think very hard about being totally ripped off (financially), I close my eyes and turn around once. When I open my eyes, there's always a little stand with a collection of goblins ready to scream at me about what I need at that exact moment. The one thing you are totally money back guaranteed in the market is a horrible headache. I once had a little one yell in my face that I needed a Whirlygig of Immaculate Conception.
"GET YOUR WHIRLYGIG of immaculate conception. GET YOUR WHIRLYGIG! WHIRLYGIG'S HERE! WHIRLYGIG of immaculate conception."
I gathered, through rumor and innuendo, that it would indeed help anyone bear a child. The only problem is you're stuck with a little goblin to raise afterwards. Most people willingly give the goblin baby back to the goblin market. Have you ever wondered where goblin's come from? It's not the birds and the bees, that's for sure. The price, according to the deceitful little buggers, is an orphan's cry, which are about a dime a dozen. Always sounds like a steal of a deal.
My usual reason for going to the market is simply to get a couple of apples. No! Not for me, of course, not for me. I'm not a total idiot. A goblin apple, sitting in a bowl of run of the mill apples will look odd, but chances are pretty good that someone looking for a midnight snack won't notice what they're biting into. I love these things! One bite, and bing-bang-boom, you're asleep dreaming the most frightful things in the world. Snow White can tell you all about it. It sucks, no doubt about it. BUT! There's nothing like an apple nightmare to feed on; you'll find that you've got the energy of ten men -- those Olympiad types, too. The big problem though, is that the apples cost an arm and a leg. It's a messy business, that.
I think I saw what they made out of those arms and legs once. Have you ever seen those shrunken heads in museums? The gobbos can do that to pretty much anything, except they have this trick of keeping the original skin pigmentation -- they've got tricks for everything. They mummify them together, somehow. The hand clenches the ankle, so you've go this disgusting bowtie like conglomeration of grossness. No one's ever tried to sell me one, so I guess they're pretty frightening. I heard about a guy who bought one once, though. They say that if you get paranoid enough to believe that you're always being followed, or always being chased, or that you're going to be chased, or something like that, the flesh-bow tie charm will guarantee that your stalker type is tripped up by something. Supposedly this will slow them down, so that you can get away. Each time you use it, a finger lifts off of the ankle. Fourth use, and you're boned, man. I guess that's how they figured out the cost. You can be damned sure I wouldn't pay for it.
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