The grinding of stone on stone. Light touches sallow bone for the first time in centuries. The Lich rubs an empty eye socket.
‘Is it the end of time?’ it croaks.
The acolytes look nervously at one another. Their herald speaks first. ‘No, my most indomitable lord, we are still many centuries from your most dread prediction.’
‘Then why am I awoken?’
The herald swallows. ‘Uh, a thousand apologies my lord. But the time elemental you so skillfully created to hold back the rift is, uh, on the fritz.’
‘On the fritz.’
‘Yes my lord.’
Still laid in his crypt, the Lich pinches where the bridge of its nose ought to be. ‘Then fix it.’
The acolytes mumble and shuffle. The herald pulls at his collar. ‘Ah, well, my most foul majesty, there is a small issue that has arisen. You see, in your deep slumber, the other workers and I joined a local union.’
The Lich stares, unmoving.
‘And, uh,’ the herald continues, ‘they’ve been quite good actually. They got us on a dental care programme down in the nattering caves. And we get an hour’s lunch now. Anyway, one of the new things we’ve been a part of is the On-Lair Safety Standards programme. Uh, OLSS, for short. And when the time elemental started acting up, our rep from OLSS said none of us is qualified to fix it so, we needed to find someone who has the right qualifications. And, well my lord, you’re the only being in existence that we know of that knows how the elemental works. So. You know. We thought maybe you could look at it?’
The Lich is still. The acolytes look around at one another, wondering if their master has fallen asleep again. It’d be impossible to tell, with the lack of eyes.
Then the herald explodes in a globular mist of blood and gore. The acolytes shriek and cower.
‘How’s that for safety standards?’ growls the Lich. ‘Tell that to your fucking union. Now, put the lid back on. And don’t wake me until the end of the fucking world.’
Paddy Dobson
7th September 2021