Of the JuJu and the Tiny soul
The tiny one summoned us to dinner. I thought it was to be an unremarkable affair, but events soon took a turn for the worse. A meager repast was laid out for us, as far as I could tell I would have to take my sustenance from the bountiful amount of wine that had been laid out before us. Now I am no fool, as it was obvious to me that the tiny one expected to have me in my cups and then agree to his foolish scheme. Obviously, he has not learned the lesson that you cannot out drink a man from the Isle of Eire no matter how much alcohol you surreptitiously pour behind your back.
I was about to take my leave of him when I noticed that the ugly one was muttering and rubbing his thrice accursed bone. It was at this moment that the tiny one took to moaning and thrashing about on the ground. I can sense witchcraft and I know a warlock when I see one, and the ugly one meets all standard descriptions. Despite my dislike for the tiny one I had to take into consideration the fact that he had fed me for nigh on a month and it was in my best interests to keep that situation up to snuff. After all, I rather not have to bed down near a warlock. Ignoring the tiny one’s piteous mewling I told the ugly one to quit forthwith with the juju lest I remove the bone from his neck and place it in parts he rather not have objects lodging. He came out of his magical stupor long enough to give me a nasty look (I pray God it was not the evil eye) and ran out of the room, no doubt to make amends with his Dark Gods on his failure to produce another Christian soul.
This seemed to perk the tiny one up to no end, so much so that he lavished me with praise and attempted to embrace me as a brother. I know he is no God Fearing man, but I gently kept him at arms length and told him that it might behoove him to attend the Sabbath that week as some dark spirit could still be lurking near him. The depressing part of all of this is that in my efforts to escape his praise I agreed to his plan. A stupid Irishman he needs and a stupid Irishman I am not, but I should have finished my collection of his worldly goods in enough time to escape out the kitchen without notice.
I pray he does not set the dogs on me.