Inktober: DROOLING - 10/6/18

The soft grinding of sand on wood was like a quiet music box lullaby to my ears. Then came the bull crashing down the china shop's doors.

"Look how sharp I got it!" he bellowed, all of my muscles tensing in unity as he pointed the end of a dingy machete only inches from my face.

"Very nice," I murmured.

"You didn't look," he noted.

"That would be correct." I proceeded to pull the sandpaper across the surface of my staff.

He thrust it closer, dangerously close to my eye. I jerked back just enough to avoid the full fatality of his idiocy. "Look," he insisted.

My eyes flicked up to meet his. "How exactly do you expect me to appreciate the exact mediocrity of your sharpening skills by sight alone?" His cheeky grin fell with satisfying speed. "Get that out of my face before you find out exactly how sharp it is."

He snatched it away again, pouting. "You know, you don't have to be such a butt." He attempted to stylishly thrust the blade into its sheath, only to miss the opening entirely and slice the length of his finger. "Gah!"

"One," I said as he jammed his bleeding hand into his mouth, "evidently I do if I want to keep both of my eyeballs. Two, I have the common sense to not throw sharp objects into other peoples' faces. Three, I'm not dumb enough to cut myself open upon offence. And four, I have enough IQ points to come up with a better insult than 'butt'."

He stood still for a moment, bristling with childish indignance. I looked back down at my work, blowing the sawdust off of my hands as he turned and walked around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull back his hand as he approached my back. I jumped to my feet and swung my staff in one fluid motion, dodging the swinging sheath and striking his neck just under the ear. He yelped, the covered blade flying out of his hand and hitting the dirt beside my feet. With a powerful overhand swing, I struck him again at the base of his neck, toppling him to the ground, and bent over to pick up the machete.

I stared down at his seething form, breathing heavily through my nose. "Do the world a favour and rid me of your drooling impudence." Red-faced, he stood and threw an arm out for his blade, only to catch my staff under the ear again before running into the trees like a cat who'd been spritzed with water.

I dropped to my seat again, sighing deeply. Clearing my mind, I tuned in to the supple sound of the sandpaper once more.