Gump sighs and rings out the cloth across his mushroom patch, before stomping back into the house. He resoaks the cloth in the fridge, where the meltwater has pooled on the lowest layer.
It reeks. The power must have cut some time in the day and all his spoiled goods have been extracted and placed in the green bin.
His boxes of various mushrooms both edible and hallucinogenic have turned to a colourful mush. His cuts of warg steak have grown white, fluffy tufts of untrustworthy mold. His good, brown mold has withered away without the cold incubation and now he has nothing to season his frog eyes with.
Gump doesn't think his day can get much worse, and then the alarm starts blaring. Stalwart adventures have entered the dungeon, somewhere far above, and guess who is on call tonight?
Paddy Dobson
31st July 2022