The Kitchen-Witch's Inventory

A sharp rat-tat-tat on the front door startled Esmerelda. She stood at the hearth, mid-stride, her wooden spoon hovering over a bubbling iron pot hanging above the fire. She wasn’t expecting company. Glancing down at her stained dress, she felt entirely unpresentable for visitors, but guests were a rarity in this part of Blackwood Forest. She quickly snatched up an apron, tied it around her waist to cover the mess, and went to answer the call.

Esmerelda unlocked the heavy door and swung it open. Standing on her step was a stern-faced goblin holding a wooden clipboard, a pencil tucked neatly behind his long, pointed ear. A nametag pinned to his crisp work uniform read Bark.

“We have a delivery for an Esmerelda Witch,” Bark said, not looking up from his paperwork.

“I didn’t order anything,” Esmerelda said, her brow furrowing with confusion.

“We have your winter coal order parked out on the road,” Bark replied, finally looking up to gesture toward the dirt and gravel path that ran East to West through the forest. Then he squinted past her. “I see you put up a fence. How are we supposed to get to the back of the house to unload?”

A sudden wave of realization washed over the witch. “Oh my, you’re right! I did order coal for the winter—all the way back last year when you did the previous delivery. My oh my, I forgot all about it and put up the fence. What am I going to do?”

Bark tapped his clipboard impatiently. “If you can’t take that fence down in the next fifteen minutes, we’ll have no choice but to dump the load in the ditch right by your mailbox.”

Just then, a heavy rush of wings cut through the air. A large black crow swooped down from the canopy and landed squarely on the wooden mailbox.

“I wouldn’t dump that if I were you,” the crow croaked, locking its dark eyes on the goblin. “You will regret it.”

Bark blinked, taken aback. “What is the bird talking about?”

The crow tilted its head toward the open front door. “You smell that soup cooking in the kitchen inside that house? Guess what kind of soup that is?”

“Don’t tell me,” Bark snapped, crossing his arms. “Goblin soup?”

Esmerelda caught on, a mischievous smile creeping into her wrinkled face. “I make the best goblin soup ever. You want to try some?”

“That isn’t funny,” Bark barked, his green skin tightening. “You now have ten minutes to remove the fence before we start dumping.”

Panic returned to Esmerelda. “It will take me most of the afternoon to remove the fence by myself! Can you and your crew do it for me? I can pay you a gold coin each.”

Bark sneered. “I’d pay a gold coin just to see the look on your face as we leave.”

The crow spoke up again from his perch. “Call Griswald. He can help.”

“Who is this Griswald?” Bark asked, looking between the bird and the witch.

“He is my ogre friend,” Esmerelda explained, feeling a glimmer of hope. “He lives three miles down the road.”

“Look, lady, we don’t have time to wait on your friend,” Bark countered, waving his hands dismissively. “We have two more deliveries today between Longshore and Rayland, and we have to be home before dark. There are too many vampires out in the woods these days. You can have your ogre friend bring a bucket and move the coal from the ditch to your basement on your own time.”

Esmerelda’s temper flared. “I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to your company!”

“I am the company,” Bark replied with a smug grin. “You now have five minutes to take down the fence.”

Frustrated, Esmerelda looked back out at the mailbox. “Bellwort, is there anything you can do to help?”

“No,” the crow replied. “But you can cast a spell on them.”

“No, she can’t,” Bark interjected smoothly. “I have witch insurance.”

Bellwort chuckled, a dry, scratching sound. “Who sells witch insurance?”

Bark confidently pulled out his leather wallet, fished out a crisp business card, and read it aloud. “Triple A Occult Insurance.”

“You didn’t say witch,” the crow pointed out, hopping closer. “You said occult. There is a difference.”

Bark frowned, bringing the card mere inches from his eyes to scan the tiny fine print. His ears drooped slightly. “That son of a bitch… you’re right. It doesn’t say witch insurance.”

“You were scammed,” Bellwort mocked with a loud caw. “Who has ever heard of witch insurance?”

Before Bark could recover his dignity, a loud, booming voice echoed down the gravel road. Walking toward them, carrying a massive iron shovel and a heavy wooden bucket, was Griswald the ogre.

“What’s going on, Esmerelda?” the giant asked, his massive footsteps vibrating the dirt.

“Fantastic! I’m so glad you’re here,” the witch said, her crooked eyes lighting up with relief. “Can you do me a huge favor and tear down my fence? These goblins refuse to deliver my coal unless I take it down.”

Griswald scratched his chin. “I suppose I could. I just came over to get some tulips out of your garden, anyway.”

Bark snapped his fingers loudly. “Time’s up, lady! I gave you fifteen minutes, and you wasted every single one of them.”

“I can rip out the fence in five minutes! Hold your horses!” Griswald bellowed, taking a step toward the wooden perimeter.

But Bark ignored him, turning to the road and signaling his crew. “Dump the coal right there!” he commanded his two workers.

The horses began to pull, and the heavy wooden wheels under the massive cart creaked and groaned under the immense weight of the winter coal, positioning it right alongside the ditch.

“I said wait!” the ogre yelled, dropping his bucket.

“We have two choices as I see it,” Bark said, standing his ground as Griswald loomed over him. “The first is that we dump the coal right here in the ditch. The second is that we take the coal back with us, and you freeze to death this winter. You decide.”

Losing his patience entirely, Griswald stepped over, wrapped his massive, calloused hand around the goblin’s neck, and lifted Bark completely off the ground.

“I can pop your head off like the cap on a pint of rum,” Griswald growled.

Bark’s face rapidly began to turn a deep shade of blue.

“Put him down,” Bellwort intervened, flying over to flap his wings near the ogre’s face. “This is no way to resolve a business dispute!”

“Do you have a better idea, bird?” Griswald grunted, though he loosened his grip slightly.

“Why can’t the goblin just unload the coal on his return trip?” the crow proposed. “By that time, the ogre will have removed the fence.”

Griswald lowered Bark back to the ground. The goblin dropped into the dirt, coughing and gasping for air. Once he regained his breath, he glared up at them. “That will cost you extra. A lot extra.”

“What difference does it make to you when you deliver, as long as you get the job done?” Griswald demanded, leaning on his shovel.

Bark stood up and brushed the dirt off his uniform. “Don’t you have a lick of business sense in your head? If we keep driving down the road with a full load of coal, our horses will wear out and die. If we unload now, the burden on the cart is far less, and they don’t die. The extra cost is to make up for the undue wear and tear you are placing upon my animals—all because you were too stupid and put up a fence blocking our access to your rear coal chute!”

Esmerelda rubbed her temples, looking at the horses. “That… actually makes a lot of sense if you think about it.”

“If you want us to wait until we return,” Bark said, seizing the upper hand, “you will have to pay a penalty of one hundred gold coins.”

“I only paid twenty-five gold coins for the entire order in the first place!” Esmerelda barked, her eyes flaring. “That’s highway robbery!”

Griswald chimed in, crossing his massive arms. “Yeah, that is a bit much, don’t cha think?”

“Each of my horses is worth fifty gold coins,” Bark countered defensively, “and you are placing a great burden upon them. Either you pay the fee, or we dump the coal right here in the middle of the road. You already paid in advance for this order, so it makes no difference to me.”

Esmerelda stomped her foot. “I won’t sign for the delivery!”

“I have two witnesses,” Bark replied, gesturing to his two goblin workers with a smug grin.

“And I have two witnesses that will testify that you tried to scam me and overcharge me for an order I already paid for,” Esmerelda shot back.

“Your word against mine,” Bark shrugged, his grin widening. “Kind of a he-said, she-said scenario.”

Bark raised his arm high and signaled his two fellow goblins. “Release the straps!”

The workers pulled the pins. With a heavy, metallic thump and a massive, rising cloud of black dust, the cart tipped backward. The winter coal poured directly onto the dirt road in a chaotic heap. The workers quickly slammed the tail-gate shut, keeping the remaining portion of the load secure for the other customers down the road.

“Now that was just rude!” Bellwort squawked angrily through the settling dust.

Bark climbed onto the front of the cart, looking down at them with a belly laugh. “Usually, this is when I take your order for next year. But I have the right to refuse service to whomever I choose. And I choose you, you witch! You can purchase your winter coal from someone else next season. Oh, I forgot—there is no one else!”