Defense is a last resort!
You don’t want to have to defend your home turf, so take the shit talk to hers.
Poison the well, so to speak.
I WISH I could do that here, but this guy already has the home court advantage.
At the school, the well was the admin office. They’re trapped at their desks all day.
And all they do is invent drama from something they hear in passing.
and then they pass it on to everyone who comes into the office.
PinksPosies&Pearls:And seriously, fuck her.
Whoever she is, get fucked, lady.
You need to figure out where or who your well is.
You don’t even need to make something up, it’ll distort as it’s passed on.
Just sprinkle a little dissent in the well…
And watch the ripples grow.????
Anyone who had ever spent more than five minutes within the city limits knew precisely where the gossip well of Cambric Creek could be found.
The Black Sheep Beanery was the busiest business in town, from the moment they unlocked their doors at the crack of dawn each morning until the moment they were locked again behind the last straggling customers at night. Regardless of species, gender, or age, everyone in town passed through the Beanery’s doors at least once a week.
It wasn’t only that caffeine was a legal stimulant that the entire community was hooked on. It was a place toseeandbeseen. If one needed to catch up with someone else, one could likely find them eventually in the coffee shop; if one had good news to share and wanted it to spread as widely and quickly as possible — the Beanery was the site of one’s celebration.
Likewise, it was the place to avoid if you were hiding your shame, which was why Ranar had avoided the coffee shop in those weeks after his visit to Jack Hemming’s office and the subsequent disastrous encounter with the beautiful stranger to whom he had pinned too many of his hopes. Living in a townthat was as addicted to the goings-on of the neighbors as Cambric Creek had its downfalls, and everyone being aware of his was not something he wanted to deal with, not them.
Thatmorning, however, he arose with fresh eyes. Pinky was right.Poison the well.Play on the offensive as long as he was able, for he knew without question defense was impossible. Slither into the Black Sheep that morning with his head held high, a picture of tragic composure, the good son, just trying to care for his aging parents in the face of a corporate bully. And most importantly, allow his neighbors to see him doing so.
“Have you tried talking with anyone upstairs?” Xenna leaned over the counter, shaking her head sympathetically as a gaping goblin rang him out.
Ranar knew exactly what she meant byupstairs. “I talked with him as soon as the signs went up. He’s sympathetic, but what’s done is done.”
The nymph who was working the espresso machine muttered something in response. Ranar was unable to make out her words over thehisssof the machine, but Xenna snorted, nodding her head in agreement. “Can’t pay your mortgage with Jack’s sympathy.”
“What’s most upsetting to me is the way she went about all this, you know?” he went on as earnestly as he could.Remember, you are the victim.“The other owner, I mean. She’s positioned herself as an independent shop, but the corporation’s name is above the door. You know, she came into our store, weeks and weeks ago. Asked if I had any tips. I didn’t realize then that she was just scouting us out.”
The sheep woman made a noise in her throat as Ranar re-coiled himself to the side, tail tucked out of the way, watching as the goblin whipped around to put their head together with the other cashier.Watch the ripples grow.
“Ranar, we heard the news.”
He turned, tipping his head to meet the towering orc’s eye. Magruh was the longtime chief of the Cambric Creek fire department, the same department where another one of Jack Hemmings’s sons worked.
“My wife pulled out the headpiece from our wedding just the other night to show the grandkids. Your grandfather made it, not long before he retired. We just hope you’ll be able to weather this.”
Poison the well.He didn’t need to act as he gave the big orc a sad smile. “I’m going to do all I can. I know it would be easier to just sell, but I want to hold on as long as I can for my dad. He still comes in for a few hours almost every day. We don’t want him to lose that routine.”
The big orc dropped a hand to Ranar’s shoulder, patting with a shake of his head.Watch the ripples grow. He didn’t know if this was specifically what Pinky meant, but he had a feeling it would be the most effective thing he could do. He didn’t need to run a campaign of disinformation against Sumi and her shop — the reality was damning enough.
He felt cheerful for the first time in weeks as he left the coffee shop. He had a detour to make before heading to work, a special package to pick up from the refrigerator in his parents’ garage, an idea inspired by Coming Gnome 3: The Grimening, ironically enough. Pinky to the rescue again.
His father was no longer able to drive, after too many episodes of forgetting where he was going mid route. That had been the first sign of how bad things would get, Ranar thought. When his father began to forget how to get to the flower shop, the place he’d spent nearly every day since he was a teenager, Ranar understood what the doctors weren’t telling them. His mother only felt comfortable driving in the daylight hours, and parked in the driveway, directly adjacent to the door.
