The audience was abuzz with nervous energy, and the “free” stolen beer. The stage lights were set, the set damage covered over by a beige circular rug, the coffee table replaced, and a fresh bowl of rats was set on Zune’s tiny kobold-sized writing desk. The kobold was chewing on a particularly tough pencil as he was just completing the finishing touches to his opening monologue.

“Guy Blanco, bless this monologue, for it is my first monologue.” Zune closed his eyes, clasped his hands, and prayed.

Guy Blanco, seemingly, blessed the monologue.

“Guy Blanco, would you like these rats to eat?”

Guy Blanco assumedly had eaten earlier, for he didn’t respond. Zune thanked the late night talk show star, and gulped down a couple of rats, for he assumed Guy had given him the command to eat them. Their ratty far calmed the butterflies in his stomach, and Zune took a note not to eat butterflies prior to a show. It was bad juju. Especially with all of the people out there.

Father Milton knocked at the tiny, kobold-sized door frame, and crouched into Zune’s green room (which, in fact, was actually brown because it hadn’t been painted yet).

“Are you nervous, Zune?” the ex-paladin asked. Amorokyus, Wielder of Dreams thrummed at his side like a particularly-old dishwasher, covering up the noise from the massive (and incredibly drunk) crowd that was gathered around the stage to watch Real Galadhorn make swift work of the kobold. Beer flowed like wine. Wine flowed like beer. Dramatic tension flowed like hot sauce. (note: Let’s make it clear that The Slightly-Late Show was not yet the marquee item that it was destined to be. The marquee event for the evening was Real Galadhorn’s presumed execution of Zune. The Slightly-Late Show was the opening act.) The mood was set. It was now or never.

Father Milton was now feeling rather guilty about forcing Zune into this situation where he was going to have to defuse the deadliest man in Eden. But what else could he do? He was no longer a paladin. So, he came to Zune’s “green” room to comfort the possibly-soon-dead kobold.

“Butterflies really making my tummy hurt.” Zune said. He also was nervous, although he could never admit it to Guy Blanco. To admit that you were nervous was quitter talk. And Zune remembered the teachings of Guy, and knew only one man was a quitter.

“I am sorry if I forced you into this. Real Galadhorn is not a pleasant man. If you’d like, I can take your place.” Father Milton offered.

“No. It would not be what Guy wants.” Zune nervously swallowed another rat as he adjusted his suit jacket. The blue tie, inspired by Guy Blanco’s, fit him nicely. Like a rat sack full of rats fit a kobold. Or how labor unions suit a kobold. It was at the core of the outfit’s nature.

Zune stood up and walked past the holy father, causing Father Milton to step back and bump his head on the ceiling.

“Ouch, christ!” Father Milton said. (note: “christ” was an exclamatory that had phased through dimensional barriers. Turns out, certain curses are universal, even if the religions are not.)

Zune bowed to Father Milton from the tiny doorway.

“Ouch to you too, my friend.” the kobold said, assuming that “ouch” was a sacred term used by followers of Brestmylc.

Father Milton, who assumed that “ouch” was a sacred greeting among kobolds and/or followers of Guy Blanco did not comment on the kobold’s turn of phrase, and simply grinned in approval. The kobold snarled back in a very friendly manner that, if one were not nervous about a murderous cursed sword, you probably would have interpreted as a smile. Father Milton, tried to be optimistic as he watched Zune stand backstage next to a sibling I’mos who was giving off a countdown for the show.

“Five.”

“Brestmylc. Have I done the right thing?”

“Four.”

You have done all you could do. Milton.

“Three.”

“But what if they don’t like him? What if the crowd turns on him? What if he gives up, and he just lets Galadhorn bring him out of his misery?”

Do you truly believe that the kobold could perform that badly.

“No, but Eden’s crowds are not exactly friendly.”

True.

Two.

“What if Galadhorn wins?”

He won’t. His sword, while the stage is where it is most powerful, will not win.

“How do you know?”

Because, Zune would have to quit.

“And what if he does?”

One.

Quitting is for Jimmy Fallon.

***

The dramatic tension. Oh yes. Yes. YES. PLEASE. GIVE.

ME.

IT.

ARE YOU READY TO HAVE SOME FUN, GALADHORN?

Paint. I would like to Paint.

***

The stage light blared to life, the player piano (which one of the I’mos had resurrected from the wreckage of the East of Eden: Combination Saloon and Childcare Center) slammed into Zune’s new theme song: “Entrance of the Moon Bull” from Lou Harrison’s 1950 Ballet Suite, Solstice. The crowd roared for bloodshed, as Ragnar (who had pre-professional training as a hype man) yelled out among the five hundred brave souls who gathered in the most dangerous spot in Absurdia.

“Wecomel to The Slightly Late Show! With your host, Zune Tee-em!”

***

Five hundred miles away, Emma the gunslinger heard a familiar melody upon the wind. She knew she was hallucinating, no one on Eden played the music of late American composer Lou Harrison. It didn’t matter. It struck her hard, like a bullet. Harder than the five years since Brennan’s death had. She cried for a home she would never return to, and for the found family that she had broken.