Inspiration came to me today. A fantasy novel from the perspective of three people who, if they lived in the real world, would be real candidates for “still living in mom’s basement”. Thoughts?
The sun lingered on the horizon, sending the last rays of the day through the kitchen window of the Cask and Cod. Soon the tavern would shed its silence and embrace the bustle and laughter befitting a rowdy tavern during a late supper rush. Before the great cast iron cooking pot of long simmering stew stood a man, a woman and a moron. In truth all three were fools, but they were fools of three different types.
The first of these belonged to Q’urt and the way, mid conversation, he’d simply stop listening while nodding in automatic agreement. It was in the way he could dazzle you with obscure facts on a wide swathe of subjects while remaining oblivious to the obvious. And it was in his frequent stares into the middle distance examining – nothing.
The second stupidity belonged to Baub and her penchant for conjuring terrible ideas. It was in the way she chewed her food slack jawed, and the moist smacking sound her mouth made as she shoveled food into her face. And it was in her laugh, like a braying ass, loud and ornery. You could count for her all the ways her schemes were doomed, and when confronted with the facts she’d simply say fuck it.
The last of these belonged to Fhil, the greatest thick-wit of the three. It was in the way he’d keep talking long past Q’urt’s listening and how he thought every fickle notion of Baub’s was brilliant. It was in the way he’d subordinate himself to them and their constant needling and ridicule. You could listen for an hour and you might catch the knock of shallow thoughts bouncing around inside his skull, one at a time.
Combined, their jackassery stunned the owner of the Cask and Cod into a horrified, pre-rage silence as they seasoned the stew with their spit and snot and in Fhil’s case, piss.