Saturday's Storyteller: "The pixie snorted a line of pink sugar and then leaned over to me, eyes pointing in different directions, and slurred, 'So let's make a deal.'"
by Belinda Roddie The pixie snorted a line of pink sugar and then leaned over to me, eyes pointing in different directions, and slurred, "So let's make a deal." "I'm listening." He watched me stir my mystical cocktail with a glass wand. Something that couldn't cast spells, but just what I needed to mix the booze together thoroughly. Chiddy was his name: Grantil Chiddy. "That's good stuff, by the way," he said, rubbing his left nostril feverishly. He chafed his own skin so hard that glitter scattered on the card table. "Where did you get it?" "Old friends. So what's the deal?" Chiddy coughed, inhaled, sniffled, and exhaled. "I'm talking six hundred gold cred here, buddy. Two hundred less than my original offer. Money's tight, Maxi. I can't go any lower than that." "You know my standards." "This is good shit I'm talking about here," he insisted. ...