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Eye of The Swamp Giant
“Barkeep! Hit me again. Two on me,” I say, slurring.
“No, no. This one’s on me,” the lumbering giant bellows, slamming his glass down on the old oak stump in front of us.
The bartender waddles over to the pile of booze behind the rustic counter. Squinting, she asks, “What was it again? Blood of the demon?” Her tentacles slither over a slimy bottle of Vodka.
“That’s the one!” I scream, giving her a thumbs up.
“Nooooooo!” The giant cuts in, “Tonight we drink Eye of the Swamp Giant. It’s an old family recipe.” The table rumbles when he speaks. This catches my attention and makes me a little leery.
“Eye of the Swamp Giant, is it? Sounds a bit bias, don’t you think? You don’t see me ordering Heart of the Human or Ancient Man’s Ale. Do you?” I scoff, swatting a fly from the side of my face. It’s so humid I sweat just thinking about how much I’m about to sweat. I can see the Iron Dwarves dancing in the distance, rocking out to Electric Steel’s latest chart topper. They’re so funny when they wiggle.
“Weeeellll?” The kraken squeals, “What’s it going to be?”
“Yeah, yeah. Eye of the Swamp Giant then if he’s going to be such a puddle fart about it!”
The kraken whips up a jug, stirring in the wine then vodka and tossing in a few rotten strawberries. The concoction makes me gag a little, but I have to make it through the night or I’ll lose the bet. She slides the two drinks over and the Giant and I scoop them up at the same time, leaning in for a good old clank of the cups. Then we dump the contents down our throats, smashing the glasses on the table when we we’re finished. A tiny gaggle of spiderettes scurry past, hissing when they look at me. Man those things creep me out.
*****
“Hey, human, get up! This ain’t no hotel.”
I peel my eyes open, snapping my tongue from the roof of my mouth, tasting the sheer bitterness from the night before.Where am I My head feels like a waterlogged Ogre’s ass and my chest stinking hurts. Why. The. Hell. Does my chest hurt?
Pulling my shirt up, I expose the monstrosity underneath. Grandma Iron Dwarf’s scowly mug is permanently etched into a bare patch in my chest hair. Her winking face looking out into oblivion beside my Mudmen Mania ink. Eff. Another bet lost. Damn those Swamp Giants. They can really hold their liquor… and that’s how I got this tattoo.
Anisa Irwin is the creator and co-owner of Writer's Carnival, Reader's Carnival and Writer's Carnival Classes, and has been published in a few different e-zines such as Long Story Short, 69 Flavors of Paranoia and Blood Magazine. Her self-published collection, Midnight Abyss, did relatively well in that it received just over sixty unique reviews between Amazon.com and Goodreads, the majority being four and five stars.
Email: Anisa Irwin
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