The Toss for Heads or Flails

         Humphrey stood by the wide sliding glass door of his penthouse suite, overlooking a panoramic view of a lifeless city. There were no horns, no sirens, no people filling the sidewalks. There was only an uneasy silence, brought about by the not-so-recent arrival of the Horde.
    Humphrey lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a long, satisfying drag. His droopy eyes watched the white steam spiral from the vent stacks jutting from the rooftops of apartments and smaller business buildings. The blinding orange glow of the morning sun, reflecting off the colossal, steel-blue skyscrapers, cast a thick halo over the city skyline. Off in the distance, Humphrey could see the ever-present black smoke spires billowing high and wide across the cloudy horizon.
    "They're getting restless out there," Humphrey said, in a pleasant, and gravelly voice. "I don't think our friends out there are going to wait much longer."
    A thin man, with a tapered mustache, and a sharp, aristocratic look on his round face, sat proudly on an apple red sofa that was placed center-wise in a white-carpeted living room. He stuck his nose up, haughty and ignorant to the city's outlying dangers.
    "I could care less what those rubes out there have planned," he said, sticking his nose up. "It goes without saying that the local militia will deal with them, as they always have."
    Humphrey brushed the ashes off his biege cardigan. "Porter, I ah, heh, I wouldn't be so comfortable with the idea of the city Watch saving our necks. It wouldn't be fair to our heads."
    "You're always so pragmatic," Porter huffed. "Almost to a fault."
    "It's a fault I happen to appreciate," said Humphrey in a frank voice. "It's kept me in one piece, and that, whether you care to know it, is a good thing."
    Porter reached into the gray jacket of his suit and retrieved a silver cigarette case and lighter. He popped open the case and slid out a bronze filtered cigarette.
    "And what do you suggest we do?" he grumbled while lighting his cigarette. He took a nerve-settling puff then placed the case and lighter on the glass table in front of the sofa. "What possible good could come from panicking? It is a well known, and heavily documented truth that hystria breeds disorder, and rioting. There is no need to panic." He glanced sideways at Humphrey. "Especially at a time like this."
    Humphrey smiled and looked down at his honey-brown shoes. "Nothing at all wrong with a little panic, it's even good for the soul, contrary to most doctors." He thumbed at the smoke spires filling most of the view from the floor-to-cieling windows along the east wall of the room. "You think they're panicking? Trolls and ogres, come in by the truckload, all ready to do a little seasonal shopping for human heads. Not a pretty thought, is it."
    Porter dismissed the smoke, ogres, and trolls with a wave of his hand, unphased by the grimy, industrial black gloom of the Horde's presence.
    "Hardly something we need concern ourselves with," he stated with solid confidence.
    Humphrey wasn't so quick to judge the situation with a positive spin. He had dealt with ogres and trolls before, back during the Uncivil War, when the two brutish races were on another of their kingdom-conquering rampages. It wasn't a pretty sight. The trolls, lacking the foresight to create steady supply lines for their unorganized army, turned to cannibalism, and the charred, human bone piles, found by Humphrey and his regiment, were horrific sights you tend not to forget.
    As for the ogres, they weren't much better. They didn't lust for carnal mayhem with as much zeal as trolls, that much was true, but when it came to crushing people with over-sized and heavy objects, they were the writers of the game.
    Humphrey walked across his expansive living room, and behind a deep mahogany bar by the front door. He produced a blue corkscrew-shaped bottle of brandy and set it gently on the bar.
    Nothing fights off the chill of gloom like strong dwarfish brandy, Humphrey thought, as he poured the gold liquor into an ornate, crystal glass; the glass was one of a set, from his 'The Majestic Elf Collection™.'
    "I'm not worried about trolls and ogres," declared Humphrey. "Just the appetities they bring with them. They tend to overstay their welcome, if they even have one."
    He set aside the bottle and took a quick gulp; that was the only way to drink dwarfish alcohol; attempting to be delicate with it could cause muscle spasms or short-sightedness.
    He smacked his lips against its gut-shivering strength and fought back the strong urge to cough.
Ice smooth!
    He mixed the rich flavor of the drink with a crisp puff of his cigarette. It was a divine combination, not to mention the wonders it did for his nerves.
    Humphrey pointed at the growing smoke spires with his cigarette hand, and said, "I'll bet you half of your insurance wealth that that Horde is well on its way to becoming the next mini-coporate empire."
    "Posh!" shouted Porter. "You're outrageous with that statement. An ogre and troll Corporation, how insane is that mind of yours?""
    "You don't think so, huh?"
    "Of course not." Porter's eyes got beady. It was the kind of look that told Humphrey there was a lecture coming. "Let us first begin with the obvious things about trolls and ogres," he said.
    Humphrey took another sip and flicked his ashes in a large porcelain ashtray on the bar. "And what would the obvious things be?" This ought to be good.
    "There are countless things I could begin with," said Porter. He put his cigarette out in a decorative ceramic bowl on the table. It wasn't meant for that, but Humphrey didn't think now was the time to argue over something so trivial. In a few hours, a massive wave of angry green, brown, and yellowish creatures would come pouring into the city for days of fun-filled mayhem and slaughter. What was one cigarette burn in a priceless ceramic bowl?
    "Ogres and trolls have little to no brain power, it is a known fact," Porter continued.
    "Common knowledge to us maybe, but I doubt the average bum hiding in a dumpster would know that. I don't think he'd care one way or the other, especially when he sees the Horde banging on his tin home, asking him to come out for a snack."
    "Possibly, but you are eluding the point.," Porter said, waving a finger. "You forget, I work in insurance, well, I worked in insurance, and so I have a very good understanding of how people's minds work, or don't work, as the case is with them. Now, it is a proven, scientific fact that ogres and trolls, especially trolls, have a much smaller brain size than humans."
    Humphrey smiled. "Yes, I read last winter's Scientific Journal, too."
    Porter threw his hands up, as if to say, "There you have it, then."
    "But that still doesn't change the fact that your small-brained guinea pigs out there still have half the country in a chokehold," Humphrey argued. "Take for example the leader of the ogre clans, Himdig. Now there's a guy who's managed to take the corporate idea of social cannabilism, and mix it with medieval war strategy to make something new, and surprisingly effective."
    "Corporate idea?" Porter echoed, slightly confused. "What are you getting at? Are you trying to insinuate that ogres are using good, clean, sound corporate business practices to wage a...a mindless war?"
    "Why not?" said Humphrey, his long, wrinkled face looking somewhat surprised. He couldn't believe that Porter, an educated and successful businessman, didn't see the logic in it. Trolls and ogres were dumb, true, almost on par with rocks, but even the dumbest creature can understand something simple like success. Look at CEO's, and Board members.
    "Let's look at it this way," Humphrey continued. "You want to survive this invasion, right?"
    Porter eyed Humphrey. "Of course, who wouldn't?"
    Humphrey shrugged and gestured at the Horde beyond. "I'm sure they wouldn't. But that's not the point."
    "And what, if there is one, is the point you're attempting to make?"
    Humphrey shrugged again. "All right, I guess there isn't any point you'd see, but, the answer I'm getting at is this: ogres and trolls, two mindless cases, have joined together to make one entity. A solid business arrangement that's no different than the ones you've made with your company."
    Porter burst into laughter. "Do you mean to tell me that ogres and trolls are becoming some kind of Board? Oh that's ridiculous. Completely ridiculous."
    "Not so hard to imagine, if you think about it."
    "Oh please," said Porter, waving his hand at Humphrey. "That's the most ridiculous thing to happen since my hair started receding."
    Humphrey smiled and chuckled a little. "Well, you still have some left up there. More than most trolls, anyway."
    Porter smoothed a tense hand over the deep receding tuft of brown hair on his head. "Indeed, and I intend to keep it there," he sneered, trying to sound proud of what little remained on top. "And I would rather not let some barbaric imbecile, still trapped in the Dark Ages, come and lop it off with a stone hachet."
    "Oh, well, they don't use hachets anymore," assured Humphrey.
    Porter lowered his hand from his head.
    "No?" he said.
    "No, they just sort of...pull it off," Humphrey explained, illustrating with his hands.
    Porter's eyes widened. He shot up straight and buried his hands under his bottom, mortified by the thought of having a giant brute's meaty hands rip off his head, or any other necessary extremities. Humans were finicky that way, they didn't appreciate losing vital body parts, unless there was a very good reason behind it.
    Porter was no exception.
    It was a sense of self-preservation that any creature with half a brain could appreciate, which was why ogres and trolls never seemed concerned about things like that, or much of anything else.
    BOOM!
    The windows shuddered. The bottles and glasses on the bar rattled.
    Porter sprung to his feet and made a sharp turn toward the windows.
    "God heavens, what was that?" he cried.
    Humphrey sauntered from behind the bar and over to the sliding door. It wasn't easy to tell at first, but a few seconds later, he could see the flames and smoke spewing from the Splurge Bunk Hotel, four blocks away.
    "Looks like it's started," said Humphrey. He looked back at Porter while pointing over his shoulder."They're bombarding."
    "Bombarding?" Porter shouted. "With what?"
    "Oh, probably whatever they can find."
    A blue van soared through the air until it smashed through the side of a financial building. Glass and paper exploded everywhere.
    "Like that," said Humphrey, pointing.
    "Look!" Porter cried, his eyes spying a cluster of large dots hovering in the air. "What in the Heavens' names are those?"
    The dots grew larger and larger, until they took the shape of small cars, all burning and smoking. The vehicles smashed and tore through rooftops and building faces. Dozens of small fires erupted, adding to the growing black cloud that was steadily devouring the blue sky overhead.
    "It seems like we'll staying in tonight," Humphrey said, heading back to the bar. He felt now was the best time to get Porter planted in a solid state of drunkness. If nothing else, it would take away some of reality's sting of what was to come.
    "Well..." Porter mumbled, staggering at an awkward pace from the sliding door. "We could...we could leave. Evacuate the city!"
    "And go where?" said Humphrey, filling two glasses with the dwarfish brandy.
    "Good grief, man," Porter exclaimed, shocked that Humphrey should have to ask. "We go anywhere that that...that...monstrosity isn't! We could hide somewhere in the city."
    Humphrey shook his head. "I don't think that would get us far. That Horde likely has imps and goblins, probably numbering in the thousands. A little more, a little less, not that it makes a difference. Those little pests, cute as they are, can search through a city in no time, like ants through a kitchen. They'd find us before we knew where we were."
    "Then...what do we do?" said Porter, staring at Humphrey with glazed eyes.
    Humphrey handed him a drink, and said, "We take a seat, and watch the show for as long as it lasts."

To be continued.....