New HobGobble Excerpt and the Return of My Hijacked Blog!

Hello Everyone!

I want to thank all who participated in Marietta's recent open Q & A and I know she thanks you too! Hopefully everyone's questions were answered! I certainly know firsthand all the obstacles attached to finding an agent, so I'm glad this took a little of the mystery out of what Marietta is looking for and how to query her! As soon as the agency's website goes live next month, I'll be sure to post the link! I know Marietta had great fun answering everyone's questions, not to mention hijacking my blog! Never have I seen so many comments on one post! It was around 70 some! Lots of fantastic info for everyone to go through before they query! :)

In celebration of the return of my beloved blog, I've posted a new excerpt to my hobgoblins of HobGobble, or hobgobbies as I so lovingly call them!

Happy Friday and enjoy!

"More!" barked Scrod.

Two servants dashed over, each gripping a handle of an immense cooper pot overflowing with dead hagfish. Slimy eels dropped to the floor as they heaved the pot onto the table, plunked it down between Mox and his father, and scuttled out of sight.

"Eat," said Scrod, nodding at the pot. He grabbed a handful of reeking fish and flung them into his mouth, grunting contentedly as he chomped them into mush. Bits of chewed flesh sprayed from his jaws as he spoke. "You want to look like a hobgoblin, you must eat like one." He pushed the hagfish towards Mox. "C'mon then."

Mox eyeballed a rotted eel, whose gray, eyeless head peeked over the lip of the pot. He'd rather starve than eat more oily hagfish or oily anything for that matter. Hobgoblins lived off fat, oil and grease, and in Mox's estimation, all things disgusting.

A long while back there'd been a food shortage in HobGobble. London was under lockdown, the whole city blanketed in piles of snow. The hobgoblins did their best to procure food, anything to keep HobGobble from starving. Mox remembered one night quite clearly.

He sat hungrily at the long table, waiting with his forty-two brothers and sisters. The servants came round, plopping an open tin can in front of each child. Mox was expecting pickled pig ears, deviled ham or perhaps greasy canned hash, but instead, the can contained something bright and yellow. To that day, Mox didn't know food came in such a cheerful color. He cautiously took a spoonful--little bits of sweet golden heaven popped in his mouth with each chew. He read the can's label under his breath, "Royal Crown Vegetables, Extra Sweet Whole Kernel Corn Niblets."

Mox's brothers and sisters got up from the table in disgust at their dinners. Mox's oldest brother, Gash, took his can and flung it at a servant bashing him upside the head, corn spraying everywhere. The others followed suit--a food fight like no other. Mox smartly crawled under his chair, taking two of his sisters' unwanted cans with him. He laughed as niblets flew through the air around him, whipping past his head, his brothers and sisters so incensed by the sight of the crisp, yellow morsels. Niblets fell like rain. Mox happily gathered them up and ate and ate until he could eat no more.

That night his belly was full. He never saw the words 'vegetable' or 'corn' on a can in HobGobble again and to this day has never seen food of such a vibrant hue. The food set before him was brown, tan or gray, all slippery with grease, sodden with fat, rancid to be sure, and far from cheerful.

Scrod stared at his son. "Why do you have such a disheartened look on your face, Mox? You must eat to be strong--to one day be strapping like your brothers--to be like Gash. Your eldest brother is the strongest hobgoblin in all of HobGobble."

Mox crinkled his nose. "Father, what if I'm not like Gash or the others? What if I can't be big and strong like them?"

Scrod's baggy lips stretched into a hint of a smile. "Mox, attention to my children has been lacking in many ways. HobGobble had been my responsibility well before you little ones were ever even a glimmer, and without HobGobble my family--my children would not be safe." Scrod motioned to the torch lit caves around him. "So in order to look after all of you, all this had to come first, my duty as Lord Hob." Scrod sighed. "Even with my obligations to HobGobble, I've always managed to keep an eye on my children--especially you, Mox. To be sure, you are distinctly different than your siblings, and I'm not just speaking of your looks."

Mox knew he was different without his father telling him so, but the fact that his father noticed anything at all, other than his unusual features, was a revelation.

Scrod pushed the pot to the side. "I know you're not particularly fond of hagfish. For years I've spied you mashing it up on your plate, hoping it would look eaten." He chuckled softly. "Don't think I haven't seen your elbow edging over ever so slowly towards your fish, silently knocking it to the floor when you thought no one was looking."

Mox's face flushed with heat. No one ever paid him mind or so he thought. "Sorry, father."

"It's all right. In that way, you are very much like your mother."

Mox raised his eyebrows. "You mean mother didn't like hagfish either?"

"Your mother loathed the slippery eels. She despised the food we steal from up top, always in their greasy bags, soaked with butter and cooked in fat. I told her she was crazy for it! Why hobgoblins love the oily aftertaste of fish and chips, the scent of a greasy hamburger, the thick fried potatoes soaked in oil!" He laughed. "Yes, your mother was very much like you. She too was slight in frame, her features small, her stature leggy. Some hobgoblins might even have whispered among themselves that she was not a fetching specimen of hobgoblin. Luckily, no one ever said it to me. A benefit of being the Lord Hob, I suppose. Wouldn't have mattered in any case, I thought your mother was beautiful--perfect even."

A shiver ran down Mox's spine and his skin rose in goose bumps. His mother was just like him, was it even possible? He tried to hide his smile, but didn't succeed.

"Ah," said Scrod, "for once a happy look on my youngest son's face."

"Why do you think mother and I aren't like the other hobgoblins? I don't want to be different...I just am."