Yokai Red

Chomp the Red Goblin swaggered into the slime-slick dungeon, with his misplaced bravado, bragging that no monster could fuck'n frighten him. His “cape” was actually a dirty dish rag tied around his neck, and his sword was a dull butter knife he had stolen from a tavern sink. The walls sweated green slime. The ceiling dripped. Somewhere in the darkness, something burped, and a mildew stink wafted. Chomp grinned with an endless row of sharp teeth. “Time to make a gold coin.” Beside a cracked eagle altar, a tiny green slime trembled in its jelly form. It was no bigger than a shriveled rotten apple and looked about as dangerous. Chomp pointed his rusty butter knife. “Behold, a beast worthy of Chomp.” Spluirt. The slime shook and moved slowly in the opposite direction. Slime sold for 100 gold a bottle, so Chomp slapped it with his butter knife, wet. “Don’t run, you little sloppy shit.” Chomp stuffed it into a glass and shook it proudly. Then he noticed honey oozing from a dobby bees' wall hive, thick and golden, crawling with corpse bees. A smart goblin would have left; goblins were mostly stupid, red ones even more so. Chomp was not a smart goblin. He dripped honey into the bottle. “Grow, little wiggly piece of profit.” The slime swallowed. It swelled quickly. Chomp fed it more. Soon it cracked the glass and spilled onto the floor in a fat green heap. Teeth formed inside its jelly. Then beedy black eyes formed. Then a smile that looked horribly familiar. Chomp raised his butter knife to attack, slipped, and landed face-first in slippery muck. The slime slid closer. “Stay back, I’ll kill you!” Chomp shouted. “I made you.” The slime whispered in Chomp’s own smug voice. “One hundred gold a goblin.” Then it ate the dish rag first. Chomp’s flesh dissolved, and the slime spat his bones out onto the eagle altar. 100 gold appeared.