The girl Brittney was gone now, replaced by Drake.
“You still alive, you stupid, alcoholic pile of rock?” Drake taunted. “Still following Sam’s orders? Doing what you’re told, Orc?”
Orc stomped angrily on the floor. “Shut up or I’ll come down there and smash you like a bug!” Orc roared.
Drake laughed. “Sure you will, Orc. You don’t have the stones. Wait, that was a funny! The stone monster who doesn’t have any stones.”
Orc stomped again. The entire house shook when he did it.
Drake called him various names, but now Orc had about a quarter of the bottle inside him. The warmth spread throughout his body.
He yelled something equally rude back at Drake. Then he staggered back to his couch and sagged heavily into it.
He didn’t mind Drake so much. Drake was a creep.
It was the girl who made Orc want to cry.
She was a monster. Like Orc. Begging for death. Begging for someone to let her go to her Jesus.
Kill me, kill me, kill me, she begged every day and every night.
Orc took a deep swig.
Tears seeped from his human eyes and fell into the rocky crevices of his face.
Someone was knocking at the front door. Normally Howard would answer. But then Orc heard Jamal’s voice yelling, “Hey, Orc! Open up, man.”
Jamal was one of the very few people besides Howard who ever came to see Orc. Of course it was just so he could get a drink. But still, any company was better than listening to Drake or Brittney.
“Want a drink, Jamal?”
“You know it,” Jamal said. “Albert’s busting on me all day.”
“Yeah,” Orc said. He didn’t care. He snagged a bottle and handed it to Jamal, who took a deep swig.
Orc flopped onto his mattresses, the floor groaning beneath him. Jamal took a chair and kept the bottle.
“Who is that up there?” Drake’s voice floated up. “Is that Jamal or Turk? Too heavy to be Howard.”
“It’s Jamal,” Jamal yelled.
“Don’t talk to him,” Orc said, but without much conviction.
“Hey, Jamal, how about letting me out of here?” Drake asked, almost playful.
Orc yelled something obscene back at him.
“Only if you kill Albert first,” Jamal shouted, then laughed and took another drink.
“How come you work for Albert if you hate him?” Orc asked.
Jamal shrugged. “I’m tough, he needs someone tough.”
“Yeah,” Orc said. “But he treats me like crap.”
“Yeah?”
“Should see how he’s living, man. You think he’s living like the rest of us? Get this: at night he doesn’t even go out to take a leak. He’s got, like, a jar he pees in.”
“I got a jar I pee in.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got a maid to take it out and dump it for him.”
Orc’s head was buzzing, not really paying attention, but Jamal was getting fired up, listing complaints about Albert, starting with the fact that Albert had meat every day and kids to clean up after him.
“See, man, he loves it like this, right?” Jamal said, already slurring his words. “Back in the world Albert was just some shrimpy little nothing. In here he’s a big man and I’m, like, his, you know . . .”
“Servant,” Orc supplied.
Jamal’s eyes flared angrily. “Yeah. Yeah. Like you, Orc, you’re Sam’s servant.”
“I ain’t anyone’s servant.”
“You’re babysitting Drake all day and night, man, what is it you think you are? You’re doing what the Sam Boss tells you.”
Orc didn’t have a ready answer. He wished Howard was home because Howard was smarter at talking.
Jamal pushed it. “Guys like you and me and Turk and Drake, right? We used to be in charge. Because we were tough and we weren’t afraid and didn’t take anyone’s crap, right?”
Orc shrugged. He was feeling very uncomfortable. “Where’s Howard?” he muttered.
Jamal made a rude noise. “Howard’s not the one stuck being a jailer, you are, Orc. Sam’s prison guard. Keeps you busy, right, and trapped here all the time. So it’s like Turk said.”
“What’d Turk say?”
“Said Sam got
“You still alive, you stupid, alcoholic pile of rock?” Drake taunted. “Still following Sam’s orders? Doing what you’re told, Orc?”
Orc stomped angrily on the floor. “Shut up or I’ll come down there and smash you like a bug!” Orc roared.
Drake laughed. “Sure you will, Orc. You don’t have the stones. Wait, that was a funny! The stone monster who doesn’t have any stones.”
Orc stomped again. The entire house shook when he did it.
Drake called him various names, but now Orc had about a quarter of the bottle inside him. The warmth spread throughout his body.
He yelled something equally rude back at Drake. Then he staggered back to his couch and sagged heavily into it.
He didn’t mind Drake so much. Drake was a creep.
It was the girl who made Orc want to cry.
She was a monster. Like Orc. Begging for death. Begging for someone to let her go to her Jesus.
Kill me, kill me, kill me, she begged every day and every night.
Orc took a deep swig.
Tears seeped from his human eyes and fell into the rocky crevices of his face.
Someone was knocking at the front door. Normally Howard would answer. But then Orc heard Jamal’s voice yelling, “Hey, Orc! Open up, man.”
Jamal was one of the very few people besides Howard who ever came to see Orc. Of course it was just so he could get a drink. But still, any company was better than listening to Drake or Brittney.
“Want a drink, Jamal?”
“You know it,” Jamal said. “Albert’s busting on me all day.”
“Yeah,” Orc said. He didn’t care. He snagged a bottle and handed it to Jamal, who took a deep swig.
Orc flopped onto his mattresses, the floor groaning beneath him. Jamal took a chair and kept the bottle.
“Who is that up there?” Drake’s voice floated up. “Is that Jamal or Turk? Too heavy to be Howard.”
“It’s Jamal,” Jamal yelled.
“Don’t talk to him,” Orc said, but without much conviction.
“Hey, Jamal, how about letting me out of here?” Drake asked, almost playful.
Orc yelled something obscene back at him.
“Only if you kill Albert first,” Jamal shouted, then laughed and took another drink.
“How come you work for Albert if you hate him?” Orc asked.
Jamal shrugged. “I’m tough, he needs someone tough.”
“Yeah,” Orc said. “But he treats me like crap.”
“Yeah?”
“Should see how he’s living, man. You think he’s living like the rest of us? Get this: at night he doesn’t even go out to take a leak. He’s got, like, a jar he pees in.”
“I got a jar I pee in.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got a maid to take it out and dump it for him.”
Orc’s head was buzzing, not really paying attention, but Jamal was getting fired up, listing complaints about Albert, starting with the fact that Albert had meat every day and kids to clean up after him.
“See, man, he loves it like this, right?” Jamal said, already slurring his words. “Back in the world Albert was just some shrimpy little nothing. In here he’s a big man and I’m, like, his, you know . . .”
“Servant,” Orc supplied.
Jamal’s eyes flared angrily. “Yeah. Yeah. Like you, Orc, you’re Sam’s servant.”
“I ain’t anyone’s servant.”
“You’re babysitting Drake all day and night, man, what is it you think you are? You’re doing what the Sam Boss tells you.”
Orc didn’t have a ready answer. He wished Howard was home because Howard was smarter at talking.
Jamal pushed it. “Guys like you and me and Turk and Drake, right? We used to be in charge. Because we were tough and we weren’t afraid and didn’t take anyone’s crap, right?”
Orc shrugged. He was feeling very uncomfortable. “Where’s Howard?” he muttered.
Jamal made a rude noise. “Howard’s not the one stuck being a jailer, you are, Orc. Sam’s prison guard. Keeps you busy, right, and trapped here all the time. So it’s like Turk said.”
“What’d Turk say?”
“Said Sam got
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