Good Ogre by Platte F. Clark Page B

he’d been. “Thanks,” Max said, handing the glass back to the dwarf. Dwight nodded and then motioned outside.
    â€œThe storm’s messing with everything—no TV or Internet, and all the phones are down. Not even the blasted radio is getting through. Whole town’s been cut off.”
    â€œWhat town?” Sarah asked, an uncharacteristic chill in her voice. “That’s not Madison out there. Not anymore.” Her words stung, and Max felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was his fault—all of it. And not in the way their first adventure had started—that had been an accident. This he’d done on purpose. It didn’t matter that he’d had good intentions; he’d ignored his friends and opened the portal despite their warnings.
    It took a second before Max realized something elsehad changed. He rubbed his eyes and stared at Sarah—she was dressed in leather armor. He’d seen her like that before, but never in the Techrus. This time her armor was black with gold trim, and had a leaflike pattern on the front and shoulders. Beneath it she wore a mesh of tiny woven rings, with a floor-length white cloak draped around her shoulders. It nearly covered the sword hanging from the leather belt around her hips.
    â€œEr,” he began, “Why are you dressed like that?”
    â€œGood of you to notice. We were kind of waiting for you to tell us.”
    â€œUs . . . ?” Max began, then turned and saw the ­others.
    â€œYeah,” Dirk said, stepping forward with a frown. He wore a colorful tunic with large, quarter-sized buttons. The tunic’s sleeves were of the puffy might-have-belonged-to-a-pirate variety, cut high so the cuffs of an even puffier might-have-belonged-to-a-pirate-masquerading-as-a-clown undershirt poked out from the bottom. Purple tights—Max had to blink several times to confirm—yes, Dirk was also wearing purple tights that disappeared into knee-high and entirely far too pointy boots. A thin belt was tied high around Dirk’s waist, and a red satchel hung from his shoulder.And if that wasn’t enough, he was also carrying a lute.
    â€œWow,” Max said. He’d seen Dirk dressed as an elf, but this was something else entirely. “Did you know you’re carrying a lute?”
    â€œDuh,” the lute replied, and Max recognized the voice.
    â€œGlenn?”
    â€œHow many other talking objects do you know?”
    Max scratched his head—it sounded like Glenn, the Legendary Dagger of Motivation, but the Glenn he knew probably didn’t have banjos as relatives.
    â€œYeah, tell me about it,” Dirk said with a frown. “Glenn is now this stupid musical instrument thing.”
    â€œA lute,” Sarah said.
    â€œYeah, a lute ,” Dirk repeated, not liking the sound of the word in his mouth.
    â€œWell, at least I’m not dressed like a walking parrot,” the lute replied. Max frowned—Glenn was usually more encouraging.
    â€œWhat’s going on exactly?” Max asked.
    â€œDude, I’ll tell you what’s going on: I’m a stinking bard !” And now that Dirk said it, Max could see that his best friend did look very much like the musical minstrelsthey’d seen (but never ever played) as online characters. “I keep wanting to sing—seriously, it’s driving me crazy.”
    Max looked at Dwight—he seemed his same old self. The dwarf shrugged. “What can I say, still handsome as ever.”
    â€œAnd I haven’t changed either,” Puff said from his spot near the counter.
    â€œBest guess is that it has something to do with that black fog,” Sarah announced. “I think it’s the reason the town has been transformed.”
    â€œYeah, look at me,” Dirk complained. “I’m wearing tights . Do you know how long it takes to undress just so I can go to the bathroom?”
    â€œBut I still feel the same,” Max