Love Crafted - Chapter 78

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Chapter Seventy-Eight

The thickness continues when the Mister Lord Shooksword shakes his head and basically says no to you. “You and those like you are a threat to all of humanity. We will curtail you, or die trying.”

You thought that you were getting used to mortals and their stupidity. But maybe being around Abigail had ruined it for you.

Sure, Abigail was a bit silly sometimes, she is your silly summoner, after all, but she is so much brighter than all the dumb mortals in this room with you.

Now you need to figure out a way to get this guy and his friends to listen to you instead of talking past the top of your head. You frown as you try to listen to all of them. The lady that looks like a less cool Abigail is talking about dissecting your tentacles for reagents, the sword guy is glaring a lot, and Mister Lord Shooksword is going on and on about some laws and stuff that don’t matter.

You look around. The guard sorts near the door are looking just as bored as you feel.

You have the distinct impression that Mister Shooksword isn’t taking you very seriously.

It doesn’t make sense, you’re big and scary and have tentacles. You even have a hat for great authority.

It’s not as big as his hat, of course but…

And like a supernova going off in your tummy, a realization burps into your head.

Of course they don’t respect you! Mister Lord Shooksword has demonstrated that he thinks he’s the best just by showing up with that kind of headwear.

You’ll show him!

Tentacles rip out of reality and start moving across the table.

A lot of things happen at once. Sword guy takes out his sword and hacks at one of your tentacles. The scientist lady ‘eeps’ and falls on her bum, Mister Lord Shooksword starts screaming at you about how what you’re doing is against regulations.

Some of the guards start firing spells in your general direction.

You sigh, like Abigail does before she wipes your mouth, and then–with a roll of your eyes to tell them how silly they’re being–you have some tentacles eat the spells flung your way, you wrap sword guy in a bunch more tentacles until he stops, and, most important of all, a few of your tentacles grab the hat.

Carefully, so as not to unbalance things, you place your new hat atop the others.

This is a mistake, you realize.

The new hat has a pointy top, but a smaller brim, so it wobbles a lot.

You spend nearly a minute trying to get everything to fit just right while the mortals do whatever, then give up.

The solution comes to you a moment later. What if you put on the newer, bigger hat on the bottom, then the others atop that one?

It works!

You are a genius.

You stand up tall and proud, your hats of great authority fluffing and feathering atop your head with only a few tentacles holding them all in place so that your small body doesn’t hurt its neck. You extend a hand across the table and point right at Mister Lord Shooksword. “You listen to me,” you say.

He does not listen to you.

In fact, while you were busy with more important things, the Inquisition sorts have been trying all sorts of rude things. They put up barriers between realities, have been poking at your tentacles with all sorts of things and have generally been very poor hosts.

You huff. Now’s not the time for that.

Tentacles bat away their attempts to keep you locked up, and when some of those attempts prove a little hard, you remove their very existence, then you eat that existence because wasting food is wrong.

You clap two tentacles together with a noise like the cannonry club makes sometimes. “Now, you listen to me,” you say before climbing onto the table so that you’re extra tall. Your hat is brushing the ceiling, that’s how authoritative you are in that moment. “I’m going to talk, and you won’t talk because you’ll be too busy listening, okay?”

Mister Lord Shooksword jumps to his feet. “Do you have any idea what kind of enemy you are making here, you inhuman monster? And give me my hat back!”

“No. Also, I don’t care. The time I’m here with you I’m not with Abigail. I wanted to be nice and polite like Abigail wants, and I tried really hard, but you’re all very rude and I think I’ll just eat you like I usually do to things that are rude or that annoy me or that look tasty.”

Mister Lord Shooksword looks like he’s about to say more things, so you sigh and pull out your ultimate weapon.

It’s something that Abigail gave you by accident.

Over the last few days, because you’re the best familiar, you’ve been holding all of Abigail’s stuff for her. Her bags, her lunch, her spare clothes. And for the most part you only ate a bit of her lunch and then gave her her things when she asked for them.

But one thing she gave you, a thing she stuffed in her purse, you kept a bunch of eytacles on.

It is a weapon of great destructive power and danger.

The rolled newspaper of bapping.

A tentacle, one that you will cut off and burn later, grabs the newspaper of bapping and brings it into this world.

Mister Lord Shooksword is trembling with anger. “I’ll see you executer, you and that summ–”

The rolled newspaper of bapping lands on his head with a great loud whapp.

“Did, did you jus–”

Another whap on his head.

“Stop that!”

“No.” You bap him again. “Not until you stop with the talking and start with the apologizing.”