“What about dogs? Full-grown ones, I mean?”
“No dogs.”
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
“Just assume that if I haven’t okayed it, it’s off-limits.”
Annoyed, he swallowed the pillow.
“It’s clear we need to lay some ground rules,” she said. “If we’re going to be stuck with each other, we have to figure a way to make this work.”
“Agreed.” Vom snorted. “I just don’t see why I have to make all the sacrifices.”
“My sense of reality has crumbled. I’m bound to a monster that wants to devour everything all the time, including me. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my sanity eventually. So if I’m going to have to deal with all that, the least you can do is not eat puppies.”
Vom shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“What I need from you now is some explanations about how all this… weirdness functions. If this is the world I have to live in, I’m damn well going to understand it. For starters, I need to know why the hell that monster tried to kill me this morning and now he’s hanging around, fetching us pizza.”
“Do you want the complicated answer? Or the simple one?”
A three-inch Smorgaz climbed up the wall beside Vom. He nabbed it and stuffell going in one set of jaws while talking with another.
“The short answer is because of your connection with me, you aren’t quite in tune with your native reality anymore. It’s not a big deal, doesn’t really have a big effect on the universe. But it makes you a beacon, a shining light that draws the attention of certain misplaced inter-dimensional entities, such as myself and Smorgaz, seeking to reorient themselves in a confusing, unfamiliar world.”
“He was confused and frightened and that made him want to kill me.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill you. He was just attracted to the nearest thing that reminded him of home. It’s like he’s a lost rat that stumbled into someplace he doesn’t belong and he scrambled toward the nearest… rat hole he came across.”
She snarled.
“Maybe that came out wrong,” he said. “These rules aren’t universal. Plenty of alien things slip into your reality and either perish quickly or adjust without need of an anchoring force. But some are like me or Smorgaz, we don’t die, but we also function at such different levels that without something to ground us, we’d eventually probably do some very bad stuff. Mind you, most of that stuff would be the unintentional damage of a bewildered animal thrashing around in an ill-fitting cage.”
“So you must have known something like this was going to happen,” she said. “Otherwise, why would you have followed me?”
“I expected it sooner or later, but I had figured later rather than sooner. Just the same, I tagged along because… well, it’s not like I had anything better to do. And I like you. I like being around you. Being near you keeps me focused, relaxed, like a soothing melody.” Vom snapped his fingers. “Hey, that sounds a lot better than the rat- hole metaphor I tried earlier, doesn’t it?”
“Just a bit. Let me guess… now that I’m Smorgaz’s reassuring tune I’m stuck with him just like I’m stuck with you.”
“I’d avoid using the word
“You don’t have eyeballs.”
“Figure of speech.”
“That’s his thing then?” she asked. “Spawning?”
“Yep. That’s his
The sound of tearing carpet drew her attention to another pint-sized Smorgaz.
“Yeah, you should probably get used to that,” said Vom. “Even when he’s trying to keep it under control, he usually spits out at least one Smorgaz Jr. every ten minutes. The unintentional ones tend to dissolve after about an hour, but they can be a handful.”
The small creature raised its head and smiled at Diana as it shredded some carpet with its claws. Vom leaned forward as if to spring off the couch and pounce on the creature.
“Oh, I forgot the new policy. Is it okay for me to eat Smorgaz’s half-formed spawns? Or are they on the puppy list?”
She mulled it over.
“Oh, come on,” said Vom. “You can’t seriously have a problem with that? They’re destructive little bastards who were never meant to exist in this slice of reality and have a shelf life of an hour.”
His argument was hard to counter aside from some squeamishness on her part. But of all the things he could request to eat, this seemed most reasonable.
“Okay, okay.”
The small Smorgaz yipped and dashed behind the entertainment center.
“Just as well,” said Vom. “They have a weird aftertaste.”
There was a knock on the door.
Vom perked up. “Is that Smorgaz? Are those the pizzas?”
“Down, boy.”
“I call dibs on the four biggest slices.”
She suspected it wasn’t Smorgaz. He wasn’t a fast creature, and even if he had returned with the pizzas she wouldn’t expect him to knock. He lived here. She didn’t know what to expect, but it wouldn’t have been surprising to discover yet another weird monster entering her life. Instead it was a tall, goodlooking stranger.
It was weirder than a monster.
“Hi, I’m Chuck. Chuck from Apartment Number Two. Down the hall.” He glanced to his left, then his right, then down, then up. Then, just to be perfectly sure, he looked behind himself and double-checked his right flank again. “Could I borrow a cup of sugar?”
“Number Two?” she said. “Oh, that’s the apartment with the… dog in front of it, right?”
He nodded, put his finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down. It’ll hear you.”
She peeked out into the hallway. The scaly creature was curled up outside Apartment Two’s door, and it appeared to be sleeping. But it didn’t have eyelids, so its bulbous dark eyes were always wide open.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I just need some sugar. I’m baking a cake, and I’m a little low.”
“Cake?” said Vom. “What kind of cake?”
“Does it really matter?” asked Diana.
Vom scowled. “We get it. I’m a voracious omnivore. You don’t have to keep pointing it out.”
“Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sensitive about it.”
“Sugar?” repeated Chuck.
“One second. Let me go check.” She jogged into the kitchen, opened all the cupboards and drawers, but came up empty. Reality-warping magical powers at her disposal, and she couldn’t find a single sugar packet.
Vom poked his head in the kitchen. “Check your pockets.”
She found handfuls of sugar in her pants. She emptied a small pile onto the counter.
“Did I do that or did you?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Don’t suppose you have a cup on you?”
Vom opened the freezer and pulled out an irregularly shaped mug.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Don’t mention it, but if lover boy happens to have an extra slice of cake lying around—”
“You got it.”
Diana scooped the sugar into the mug and returned to Chuck.
“Here. Hope this is enough.”
He took the cup. He glanced at the beast guarding his door, then silently mouthed a thank-you.
