The not-immortal Blacksmith

The barn was cozy, not to warm, not to cold, just perfect. The regular suspects were sitting around the table as the map was laid out and dice were gathered. Then the bomb was dropped.

“Hey, Mil? Did you know your Ex is sleeping with the news stand guy?” Pendleton, the small god of Gnomes asked Maximilian.

Maximilian sighed, “Yes. Yes I do. Everyone and their brother has told me.” He took a deep breath, held it for a four count, and exhaled, “And why are you calling me 'Mil'?”

Pendleton coughed, “Okay. I won't mention them again. As for 'Mil', well with the Heretic channel, every time I call you 'Max' out there, people think I'm talking about him. And your name is a bit long.”

“Oh, the 'All Max, All the Time' channel on the scrying stone? Dude is hilarious! Washing dogs, cats, and a Grizzly Bear?!? I wonder what the bear was thinking!” Sarah, the small god of small shadows, interjected. She put out her Llama in the ashtray, and cracked open a can of green stuff.

Kocha looked up from his anchovies and artichoke pizza, “If you were a bear, would you argue with a pixie? I sure as heck wouldn't!”

“True.”

“So, brother of mine, what is tonight's adventure?” asked Sarah, looking at Ghondish.

Ghondish smiled, “Tonight, we have the newly published adventure, 'Ballad of the Taco Truck'. Do you all remember Mrs. Gonzales? She was the new neighbor I introduced a couple weeks back.”

“The lady who's grandma, her Abuela, sells those tamales? I had one last week at the Rio college! Those things are AWESOME!” Pendleton's eyes sparkled.

“Yep! That's her.” Ghondish replied, a smile crossing his lips again.

*-*-*

“So, Abuela wants to open a Taco Truck in the community? We HAVE to help her!” Sarah shot to her feet. “My fellow neighbors! I hereby call for a vote of the community council, to approve 'Abuela's Tacos' for immediate access to our community!”

“ 'Sadly, I must disagree. While Mrs. Gonzales the elder is a wonderful cook, and her food is amazing, the bylaws of our community strictly forbid 'food trucks' of any sort access to our community outside of designated festivals and other such events.' Mr. Johnston, the head of the council says.” Ghondish narrates the response.

“But, surely we can make just one exception?” Pendleton responds, in character.

“ 'Sadly, no. That would set a precedent that will open us up to lawsuits from other food trucks who we refuse.' Mr. Johnston replies.” Ghondish narrates again.

“Well, shit. What do we do folks?” Mil asks. “Should we just give up? Or what?”

“Maybe we could force through a resolution for a one time exception?” Kocha asks.

Pendleton cocked his head to one side, then the other, “Maybe...maybe... no, that won't work.”

“I have an idea for you.” A voice from under the table announces.

Kocha looked under the table, then grabs and pulls out a hissing cat from under it. “What the hell do you think you doing here?”

“Helping, you dolt.” El Gato, deposed king of the celestial realm, replied, hanging from the scruff of his neck. “Now if you put me down, I will give you a solution that your imaginary council may give credence to.”

Kocha unceremoniously dumped the cat on the table. “I don't buy it. Talk fuzzball.”

“If you must know, I have been snubbed by the most adorable lady cat in town. She didn't like the fresh salmon I brought her.” El Gato looked down for a moment, before returning to stare at the party.

The table of gods exchanged sympathetic looks.

“Anyway, my dear godling, all you need to do is introduce a resolution that changes the bylaws to allow 'Food Trucks' and the like into the community on a regular basis, IF the owner of said truck is a resident of the community.” El Gato replied as he cleaned his fur. “That way there is no room for lawsuits, or other lowlife attempts at destroying the sovereignty of your imaginary dwelling place.”

The group of gods stared at the cat. Finaly Sarah spoke, “We should do what the cat says. I think it has a shot. Put it up for public vote. I will start the rumor mill on it. Pen? You start on the wording. Mil? Get the redneck/blue collar group going on it. Kocha? Talk to Mrs Gonzales, both the elder and younger. Get a voting festival planned, with free samples so that we can show off how good her food is.”

“You know Ms. Chang is going to want in on this too. She keeps fighting with the council about running a baking/catering business out of her house.” Kocha said, bringing the discussion to a halt.

Pendleton slumped in his chair. “She is such a...unpleasant person. Do we have too?”

El Gato stretched out on the map, knocking dice and pencils off the table. “If you are doing it for one, you have to do it for everyone.” He looked around, “Someone get me a can of tuna?”

*-*-*

“I didn't expect so many 'racists' to show up for the vote.” Kocha shook his head.

“I can't believe the number of different skin colors of racists there were in the neighborhood!” Sarah said in disgust. “Seriously! What the ever loving mother of the universe?”

“What I can't believe is the amount of damage that stupid cat did to our map.” Ghondish said.

Pendleton looked up from his notes, “I can't believe I failed to convince them to vote for the amendment.”

“We can try again at next months meeting.” Mil said. “Maybe not do all the advertising?”

“Good plan for next time.” Kocha agreed.

The game ended with all gathered in low spirits.