Читать книгу Hobgoblin and the Seven Stinkers of Rancidia - Kyle Sullivan - Страница 26

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across Rancidia and its neighboring lands. In fact, there was an old Rancidian saying for best friends: “They’re just like flies on a hobgoblin.”

Once again, the tooting stopped. The flies paused their buzzing and toot riding to follow Hobgoblin’s eyes southward. He was looking far into the distance, past the districts of Cryptonia and Pootonia, all the way to the Onion Palace that loomed over the land. The sunset bathed the palace in a soft lavender light.

Arranging themselves into a single-file line, the flies glided onto Hobgoblin’s head and took a seat. They looked out toward the Onion Palace and let out six tiny, high-pitched sighs.

The flies felt bad for the Rancidians, and they loathed the ogre king. They stayed informed on what was happening in Rancidia thanks to a group of gadflies who accompanied the warthog every month. The gadflies warned that the ogre was scrubbing stinky creatures by the day, and Hobgoblin could easily be next. It’s true that gadflies loved to gossip, but this seemed very real, and very scary.

Again, the flies sighed in unison.

“I know what you’re thinking, guys,” said Hobgoblin with his own sigh. “The Onion Palace