Roc And A Hard Place Read Free Page A

asked.
    “Bells, ringing, music, jangle, discordance, melody—”
    “Try again:  None of those words make sense,” the dots said angrily.
    “Damnation, hell, abyss, underworld, hades, inferno, perdition—”
    “Let me guess:  Tarnation?”
    “Whatever,” she said crossly.
    “You think you're cross?” the dots demanded.  “You're positively sweet, compared to me:  I'm as angry as anything gets.”
    She peered at the dots.  “Just exactly what are you, BB brain?”
    “I'm an angry punctuation mark:  an irritated colon,” the dots said.  “And I am going to make you pause before you continue.”
    “How long a pause?”
    “Just this:  As long a pause as it takes.”
    “As it takes to what?  To refresh?”
    “I thought you'd never ask:  As it takes to make you give up and go away.”
    “I get it!  You're another challenge.”
    “Too much of a challenge for you:  Give it up.”
    Metria tried to walk around the nasty colon, but it moved over to shove her into the moat.  She tried to jump over it, still being unable to fly, but it sailed up to intercept her, its dots glowing fiercely.  She tried to crawl under it, but it dropped down and made a pooping sound that warned her back.  There was just no telling what it might do.  She tried to push straight through it, but it got positively spastic and she had to desist.
    “How am I supposed to get past you?” she demanded, annoyed.
    “Either go away or bring me some relief:  Those are your options.”
    “Relief?” she asked blankly.
    “From my syndrome:  I am not irritable by choice, you know.”
    “But how can I bring you relief?”
    “This is for you to figure out:  Cogitate, you infernal creature.”
    “Do what?”
    “Think, ponder, consider, contemplate, reflect:  Work it out yourself, Demoness.”
    Metria thought, pondered, considered, contemplated, reflected, and cogitated, though that last made her a bit queasy.
    But it baffled her.  “It's an edema to me,” she confessed.
    “Speak plainly, demoness:  A what?”
    “Puzzle, maze, riddle, conundrum, mystery, paradox, poser, problem, confusion, obscurity—”
    “It didn't sound like any of those things to me:  Try again.”
    “What did it sound like to you?”
    “Enemy, energy, eczema, enervate, Edam:  enough of this nonsense.”
    “Enema?” she inquired sweetly.
    “Whatever:  It hardly matters.” Then the colon did a double take, its dots vibrating.  “Enema:  Maybe that's the answer!” It flew off to a private place to seek relief.
    Metria quickly marched across the bridge.  She had conquered the second challenge.
    'Your turn, Worser,' she told her worser half.
    'Good thing you couldn't think of the word “enigma.”
    Sweet dreams.  Better.’
    'Demons don't dream.’
    'I was being facetious.’
    'Being what?’ 'Humorous, droll, amusing, comical, funny—’
    'I was being funny too, idiot!' Metria snapped, and retired from the scene.
    Mentia stepped off the bridge and came to a pile of blocks.
    “What are you?”
    “We thought you'd never ask,” they replied.  “We are building blocks.” They moved, clomping along to form a square around her.  Then more blocks climbed on top of the first ones, and others climbed on top of those.
    “What are you doing?” Mentia asked, bemused by this activity.
    “We are building blocks, of course.  We are building a building for you.”
    “But I don't want a building.  I'm just passing through.”
    “That's what you think!” the blocks chorused as they reached a level above her head, then started crossing the top, forming a dome.
    “Hey, wait a minute!” she protested.
    “Construction waits for nobody, blockhead!”
    “Who are you calling that?” she demanded indignantly. “I'm an airhead, not a blockhead.” Her head fuzzed into vapor.
    But the blocks were silent.  They had shut her in.
    She realized, belatedly, that this was the third challenge.
    First the boot rear moat, then the irritable colon, now