Klass Digest Group

Sam Elliott squinted into the dusk, his mustache twitching ever so slightly. He’d been out here on this dusty trail for a few hours now, guiding a few cattle over rugged terrain, when he heard a strange, high-pitched snickering from the bushes nearby.

A scrawny, green-skinned creature about three feet tall popped out from behind a cactus. Its big, bulbous eyes blinked up at him, yellow as fresh corn, with a mouth full of crooked teeth that looked better suited for tearing through shoe leather than anything else. The creature wore a ragged burlap sack as a shirt and brandished a makeshift club that looked like a stick it had probably stolen from some poor hiker.

Sam stopped, hands on his hips, a bemused expression beneath his signature silver-streaked mustache. “Well, I’ll be,” he muttered in that legendary drawl of his, deep and gravelly as a canyon echo. “A goblin.”

The goblin peered up at him, squinting in return. “And just what are you supposed to be, tall one? Some kind of tree with a face?”

Sam chuckled low and slow. “You got a mighty big mouth for a fella your size.”

The goblin crossed its arms, puffing up its chest as if it had just been offered a challenge. “Size doesn’t matter when you got goblin gumption! I could tear you apart right now if I felt like it.” It held up its stick menacingly, waggling it in Sam’s general direction.

Sam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That right? That little twig looks like somethin’ my grandpappy used to clean his teeth with.”

The goblin’s ears twitched in irritation. “This is a mighty club, human! A weapon of goblin warfare!” He gave it a little shake for emphasis, only for it to snap cleanly in half. The goblin blinked at it, clearly shocked, then quickly stashed it behind his back as though it’d never happened.

Sam let out a low, rumbling chuckle that could’ve come straight from the hills themselves. “Well, well. Looks like you got yourself a real fancy piece of equipment there.”

The goblin sneered, baring all those gnarly teeth again. “I don’t need weapons to take on you! I got claws! And… and teeth! And I’m meaner than a cornered raccoon!”

Sam nodded, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, I believe you’re mean, alright. But you’re about as dangerous as a wet cat.”

The goblin bristled, puffing itself up even more, if such a thing were possible. “I’ll have you know I’m the fiercest goblin in these parts!”

“Oh, you’re fierce, alright,” Sam drawled, folding his arms. “Just fierce enough to make me think I could use a snack right now.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Reckon goblin stew might not be half bad.”

The goblin’s eyes went wide. “Goblin stew?! You… you wouldn’t dare! Goblins are a delicacy in some places, y’know!”

“Oh, I know,” Sam nodded, squatting down to meet the goblin’s gaze, his voice a menacing purr. “I reckon with a little salt, maybe a dash o’ pepper, I could make a real nice stew outta you.”

The goblin’s bravado vanished, replaced with a shaky grin. “Now, let’s not get hasty, big guy. Just a little goblin humor, y’know? Ha! We’re practically friends now, right?”

“Friends, huh?” Sam cocked his head, squinting as if sizing up the goblin for the stew pot. “Well, if we’re friends, you won’t mind helpin’ me with a little chore.”

The goblin blinked, its wide eyes darting around. “A… a chore? You mean like… actual work?”

Sam tipped his hat and gestured toward the cattle. “Got a few head of cattle need drivin’ back to the ranch. Could use an extra set of hands—er, claws.”

The goblin scratched its head, looking from the cattle back to Sam. “You want… me… to wrangle cows?”

Sam nodded. “Or I could go back to the stew idea.”

The goblin gulped, then straightened up, giving a half-hearted salute. “Alright, alright, no need to get all culinary on me. Just tell me what I gotta do.”

“Well,” Sam began, putting on a serious face, “first, you gotta holler real loud. Cattle only listen to strong voices.”

The goblin took a deep breath, then let out a shrill, high-pitched scream that sent several nearby birds into flight.

Sam shook his head, stifling a smile. “Louder.”

The goblin puffed up again, filling his tiny lungs to their absolute limit, and let out a scream that was as fierce as it was ridiculous. Several of the cattle looked up, unimpressed, and went right back to grazing.

“That’s the spirit,” Sam said, fighting laughter. “Now just keep at it ‘til you wear yourself out.”

And so, the goblin spent the next few minutes hollering, flailing his arms, and attempting to intimidate the cattle into submission, much to their utter indifference. Eventually, he was out of breath, bent over with his hands on his knees, wheezing.

Sam clapped a big hand on the goblin’s shoulder. “Well done, partner. Might just make a cowboy outta you yet.”

The goblin looked up, dazed and still catching his breath. “Cowboy? I thought you wanted to make me into stew…”

Sam shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to put that idea on hold. Can’t eat my new partner now, can I?”

The goblin let out a nervous laugh, glancing back at the cattle, who were completely oblivious to his efforts. “Y-yeah… reckon I’ll just stick to goblin things after all. Cattle wrangling’s a little… intense.”

Sam gave him a nod. “A wise choice, partner.” He straightened up, tipping his hat. “Now, don’t go causing too much trouble, ya hear? Or next time, I might not be so inclined to let you off the hook.”

The goblin gulped, giving a frantic nod before scampering off into the desert, leaving Sam chuckling to himself as he watched the little creature disappear into the scrub.

“Fiercest goblin in these parts,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“That’ll be the day.”