Herding a Triop

Biting at my fingers, I waited anxiously in Phyllis’ shoppe for the triop to show up. The sun had already set, and the usual flow of people had dwindled to the odd Lich House student coming and going.

“Waiting for your employees?” Phyllis approached, floating on her cane-rifle towards the cash wrap I moped behind. “Always tough when they’re late for the first day of work. That’s why I always keep the lubricant spell handy. Makes everything slippery and hard to handle. Serves them right.”

“Yes, I know all about your addiction to watching people fumble slippery objects.” I mumbled, keeping my gaze locked on the saloon doors and only kind of listening to her.

After realizing that Phyllis loved to sneak into my room at night and creep on me from the corner, I had begun doing my best to ignore her the rest of the time. I mean, it was cute and funny at first, and I knew it was part of my contractual obligations, but once I realized it was every night, it became annoying.

“And they’re not employees. They’re colleagues.”

“Tomato, potato—or whatever. Just remember, you need to give them a short leash. Teach them who’s the boss. And ultimately that’s me, Phyllis.”

“Yes, yes. Now will you go away before they show up?”

“Remember, they’re never going to be colleagues; they don’t have an equal share. They’re employees, that’s why I recommended hiring some scumbags who—”

Just at that moment, the doors to the shoppe flung open as the triop arrived with a surprising collection of smiles plastering their faces.

“Nice, they’re here.”

Thank the Gods they didn’t take the prize and disappear on me.

“Them?!” Phyllis released an agitated grumble.

Pulling out a wand, she repeatedly flicked spit wads the size of gumballs at my face. “I said scumbags, scum-bags! Not cu—erm—harems.”

Floating a few feet away from me, her face crumpled into a disappointed pout as she crossed her arms.

“Well, they’re employees, remember that! You can’t sleep with them.”

“What? I would never!”

“Don’t play coy, dongle-diddler. I know you want to dip your toe in that Beltane bounty with a triop that looks like a poster promoting magical diversity. But it violates Employee-Employer Clause Sixty-Nine-Dash-Oh. And if you so happen to slip a single finger below their pleasure horizon, it becomes a breach of contract!”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” I gulped. “Asking for a friend, of course.”

With a flick of her skeletal wrists, a comedically long scroll unfurled a list of potential punishments for breach of contract. And as quickly as it appeared, Phyllis snapped her fingers, and it was gone again.

“Just don’t do it!” She turned towards the triop. “Oh, hello, children. How can I help you today?”

“We’re just here for him.” Rionriv smirked, “We’ve got to talk.”

“And sell some things.” Aesandoral butted in, dropping the loot from the adventure on the table.

“Oh, very nice,” Phyllis mumbled pleasantly as she began examining the items. “I can give you four hundred and ninety-five gold for the lot. A special rate since the loot was gained while on a mission for Ishara. One of the many benefits you could expect working for him.”

“You get special pull with Phyllis?” Rionriv asked.

“Yeah, you can say we go way back.”

“Yes! He’s my special little man. I’ve been with him since he was smol, watched him grow up and ruin the sleeve of his favourite sweatshirt in a thrilling climax to his first—”

My heart stopped.

“Ohhh-kayyy, Phyllis, thank you,” I shouted and jumped over the counter, snatching the bag of coins. “Hey, follow me now that you’ve been paid.”

Rushing everyone away from Phyllis, I pushed and pulled them through the shop towards the cursed clothing rack that led to my studio apartment.

As I shoved them through and directed them up the stairs, I slammed the door behind us. With a huff, I locked the entrance and remained for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart. Grabbing my chest, I breathed in and out slowly.

Thuh-thump! Thuh-thump! Thuh-thump!

Currently, three beautiful women were in my small apartment and, unfortunately, all I could think about was Phyllis’ words.

Resting there, I listened to the upbeat nineties alternative rock and power pop that came from upstairs before voices began to discuss.

“Ooh, what’s that thing?” I heard Aesandoral ask before the sound of disk cases tumbling filled the air. “Oh no, whoops, oh gods.”

“Oh no, not my favourite movies!”

Ascending the stairs, I saw Aesandoral doubled over on the ground, grabbing at rectangular blue cases. Behind her, Rionriv stood on the bed, looking through the glass at the neon lights of the Silver Isles underground city—the Metropolis of Termine. And, as for Sharzin, she was missing. A concerning turn of events, considering it was a studio apartment.

“Hey, it’s okay, Aesandoral, don’t worry about it,” I said with a forced smile as I rushed up to her. “I’ve got something from Phyllis for just this occasion.”

Grabbing a nearby wand, I flicked the Phyll-o-Buster and watched as the movies began to float back into the rack, which stood once more. As it moved, the bed sheets tightened, and the plastic tower rack of action movies nuzzled itself against the wall. A wave of energy cleaned the windows of Rionriv’s fingerprints and even hit the pile of dirty towels I had forgotten in the corner of the room.

As the towels were cleaned of stains, folded, and put away, Sharzin appeared from beneath the pile.

“Hey, what are you doing under there? Please don’t hide in my dirty laundry.”

“Sorry, I was—” Sharzin started, but was immediately interrupted.

“Many years ago, our ancient forebearers had before them a difficult decision—” The wand began to speak.

“Damn it, not another one!” I grumbled, looking at the object in my hand.

The wands were great at cleaning up rooms, clothing, people, and pretty much everything. They did have one downside, though. As was the way with all Phyllis products: there was a shelf life. After a random amount of usage, the items inevitably broke down in some way.

“Planned obsolescence isn’t the crime, here. It's these savings!” I could hear her distant voice crying in the store, directly addressing me.

The problem with the Phyll-o-Buster was that even though it helped clean the house, occasionally, it became corrupted and instead wasted time talking about anything and everything Esserian politics. I’d gone through three already and found the best thing to do was simply toss it into the extra-dimensional bin.

So, walking over to the trash can, I threw the wand into the one-way portal to the Cosmic Sea, where there were now three of these magic items vying for an ear to listen to their absurdities.

“Damn, going to need to buy another. Or I guess I could just learn the spell. Nah, I’m not going to do that. Anyways, sorry Sharzin, I interrupted—Sharzin?”

She was gone. I mean, of course she was. That was her shtick after all.

“How does this work?” Rionriv demanded as she discovered the knob that switched the world image beyond my window.

“Like that, you’re doing great. Maybe find a setting you would like as a backdrop to our talk.”

“Ishara, what is this?” Aesandoral asked from her seat at the head of my bed. She was looking at my nightstand, including the bottle of lotion and box of tissues.

Crap! I felt my face burn with embarrassment as I jumped forward and slapped the devious evidence to the Cosmic Sea. Damn it! Phyllis!

“That, oh, nothing. I get dry and…cry a lot. Uhhh—”

Well, crap, that’s not much better.