Radley's Home for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

down the rest of the hall. There were two doors on each side of the hall and a tall, ebony wardrobe with a silver handle.

Had that wardrobe always been there?

The sound of breaking glass startled him. He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to see Tink frowning at a busted bowl on the floor. She blushed when she saw him.

“Tink got startled,” she explained, eying the bowl. “But Tink can fix.”

“Don’t bother.” Mike grabbed a broom and swept up the glass. “Bowls are easily replaced.”

Tink nodded at this, following him to the fridge. Mike pulled a box of Eggos out of the freezer.

“Are those good?” Tink asked. Mike nodded, shoving them in the toaster.

“Eggos? The best, as long as you know how to dress them up properly.” Pulling a tub of butter from the fridge, he set syrup and peanut butter next to it on the counter. When the toaster popped, he stacked the Eggos on his plate, slathering them first in butter, then peanut butter. He topped them with some syrup and handed them to Tink. “Try that and let me know what you think.”

Tink took the plate, sniffing at the Eggos. “Tink not so sure,” she informed him before picking up an Eggo. She bit into it, syrup and peanut butter running down her chin.

“So what do you think?” Mike asked.

“Tink think goblin husband learn to cook.” She handed the plate back to Mike. “Tink need real food.” She opened the fridge, standing on her tiptoes to see to the back. Her double nipples perked up under the cold air. “Tink like pizza.”

“Well, we’re out of pizza, but maybe this will help.” Mike pulled a bag of pizza rolls out of the freezer. “We can cook these up in a hurry.”

“Use oven. Microwave is lazy.” Tink took the bag from him and read the instructions. “Tink can do this. Mike eat Eggo things.”

“Fair enough.” Clearly, he and Tink had different tastes in food. He prepared a pot of coffee, which Tink happily shared with him. Tink unceremoniously dumped the whole bag onto a pan, and Mike sighed inwardly. When he had bought food yesterday, he hadn’t accounted for another mouth to feed. Tink found a pad of paper in one of the drawers and was busy jotting notes to herself as the pizza rolls cooked. Mike dug through a collection of inbound emails, mostly job related, when he saw one from the Historical Preservation Society.

Curious, he clicked on it. The writer of the email laid out all sorts of reasons why they wanted to buy the place, but Mike didn’t bother reading them all. He trashed the file after only a few sentences.

“Show Tink.” The goblin appeared between him and the laptop, her head blocking his view. “Show Tink how to use magic screen.”

“I’ll show you later. What did you put on the list?”

Tink handed him the paper. Her handwriting was surprisingly elegant, a cursive lettering that made him think of wedding invitations.

As he scanned the list, a hard lump formed in his throat. Every line of the paper was full with something that needed fixing. “You found all of these things wrong already?”

“Tink know some from before.” The oven beeped, and Tink left his side to retrieve her breakfast. Mike couldn’t help but watch her as she inspected each roll carefully before popping them in her mouth. “Before big sleep, Tink keep journal on broken stuff, but Emily not always buy Tink supplies. Bad ladies won’t let her, she tell Tink.”

“Bad ladies?” Mike thought of the email. “Oh, the historical society. Yeah, we have to be careful doing repairs, apparently. This place is on a national registry, and we have to follow the rules or...”

Or what? That was a question for Beth, obviously. What was to keep him from doing whatever he wanted to the house?  Some of the items on list were simple enough, and he didn’t see any harm in letting Tink work on them.

“Hey, Tink.” Tink, her mouth full of pizza rolls, tilted her head at him. “This thing right here. I’m planning to take care of that.”

Tink nodded and swallowed. “You do good job, or Tink be mad.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t need any more people mad at him. “Do we have the supplies for this?”

“Tink show you.” The goblin led him out to the garage, where he once again navigated the maze of boxes.

“Are these books yours?” he asked.

“No. Tink read sometime, but not these. These belong to-“ Tink stopped walking, her eyes going blank. “That strange. Tink forget.”

“Not that strange,” Mike muttered.

Tink led him down to her dwelling beneath the garage. Mike tilted his head to fit, listening carefully as Tink described her organization system. She opened various drawers and boxes, showing Mike how everything fit together like a Tetris game from hell. Opening the third box, Mike held up a hand in surrender.

“Tink, you don’t live down here anymore. If it’s possible, could we take these things out of the boxes and use the very nice tool benches upstairs?”

“Tink make trade. Mike move books out, Tink move tools back.”

“Deal.” He kissed Tink on the forehead, and the little goblin’s face turned a darker shade of green. “But that’s a job for a different day. Right now, I need some WD-40, a couple of screwdrivers, and those shears I bought.”

Tink dug through the boxes, pulling out the things Mike needed and stuffing them into a small toolbox she slid out from under her own bench. She threw in some extra items, then handed it to Mike. “You go fix, Tink check pipes.”

“You got it.” Mike left the goblin behind, smiling at the sound of her humming a little song to herself. He cast a look back, watching her assemble her own box of tools. Then he picked his way through the garage, briefly wondering if the garage door would even open if he tried. Deciding that he wasn’t feeling adventurous enough to chance it, he took the long route through the