Dear Goblin,

I have a little monster living within my house with the ability to split in two and we have agreed to let it live with us until we find its proper parents. Every night, this little monster cries for a drink of shog juice and stories of Thumperlicks and Hedgewiggles. After a couple hours of stories, it finally falls to sleep. I then gratefully crawl off to my bed where my husband fell asleep some hours before and he will go off to work within a couple hours (at a factory where they make him ride a Hoodizzle, but that is a different story).

Every night, the hour before my husband is to wake, the little monster slips silently into my room and sneaks soundlessly into my bed. If I wake, I debate to myself wether to walk the little monster back to its sleeping chambers. If I do, it will likely wail in protest, waking my dear hubby, and likely to return within the next hour or two. If I do not, we all sleep peacefully. Except for the times the monster’s long purple fur tickles my face. Anyway…. back to the letter…

I wish to reclaim my bed from this monster. I beg you, goblin, for your advice. I am at my wit’s end. Goblins were once rulers of the little monsters back in the days of Nish, yes?

Tired Tale Teller of the Thumperlicks and Hedgewiggles

Tired Teller-

I cannot believe that you have forgotten your little monster’s ability to split into two! Therein lies the secret of monster control! It’s fortunate that you have this species. I’m quite familiar with them. They are EXCELLENT on toast points. Amazingly so. But since you are unlikely to eat them on toast points, here’s what you do. First, get two cookies. The more chocolate chips on them, the better. Then approach your little monster with the cookies. Make sure it smells them and sees there are two. Then toss the aforementioned cookies in opposite directions. The monster will split right then, each going after a cookie.

Now here’s a vital step in this equation, though I should have brought it up earlier. One cookie must be enchanted with a spell given only by a grumpy gnome. Not a happy gnome, a grumpy one. Any spell will do, because they all are tedious and have the effect of putting the subject to sleep.(As a backup plan, hire a gnome to tell their stories instead. DOZE-fest!)

So half the monster will eat the spelled-up treat. That’s the half you have to promptly scoop up and bring to the bathroom, where you have prepared a Jello bath concoction. Monsters cannot more about in Jello. Immerse said monster up to neck height. He should still be sleeping. Side effect: he may be gassy and bubbles may form in Jello.

The other monster half, by this time, should be almost done with the cookie. You must rush to lock the bathroom door with a padlock, then swallow the key and burp loudly and inappropriately, Goblin style. That’s just how we roll. Then go to bed.

A monster half cannot go far without its other half. It turns to a purplish goo.

BTW: Soundproof your room.

With the sincerest of sincerity, yours untruly, Dear Goblin


Dear Goblin,
You know that feeling, that dark, creepy feeling sometimes we find creeping up from behind and you’re sure you’ll turn around it find yourself face to face with pure evil? And then you do and, you find not evil, but something much worse… the insufferable, abominable Mother-In-Law. A monstrous detestable creature whom surely has crawled out from the darkest, ghastly depths of Hell. The one you surely shall never escape without escaping death its self? What say you a cure for such wretched affliction? This nemesis is truely a hellacious and menacing opponent who’s persistence is only matched by its pestilence causing a magnitude of calamity for sheer joy in its own malignant desires. The feind seems unstoppable, but my every future breath of sanity depends on the defeat of said monster. Suggestions, directions, and prescriptions appreciated. -JustJanis in Wisconsin


It’s like we were twins, or something. My former monster-in-law was actually a stone faun, and a particular gruesome one at that, lacking any sense of humor at all, and constantly followed by her pack of maleficent pixies. However, with her, once I disposed of the pixies with a pack of loyal wolfhounds, I just ate her up. Monster-in-law goes well with a nice mug of hot ale.

You, however, are likely a puny human. So you’re going to have to try another method.

I feel charitable today, or maybe it’s just gas. (It was yesterday that I ate monster-in-law) I am going to give you the no-violence solution.

I have a spell I got from a telepathic (or was he psychopathic?) fish, that’ll fix her attitude right up, so she’ll not only cease to make you crazy, but she’ll start waiting on you hand and foot. Both hands. Both feet.

Here’s the spell, you should be able to find all these at your local apothecary:

1 pixie toenail, slivered evenly

1/4 teaspoon of dried faun dung (I may have extra, if you want it)
3 Tablespoons of fire ants, alive
1/2 Tablespoon of hellfire. (Tabasco sauce is acceptable)
2 strands of a unicorn’s hair, precisely from its behind.
10 seconds worth of your own spit after you’ve had a milkshake.
5 strawberries
3 cups of brown sugar
1 cup of goat milk. Make sure its a fat goat with a sheeny coat.

Mix together in a blender on high. If monster-in-law loves cold smoothies, add ice.
Pour into a nice metallic cup and serve to monster-in-law with this phrase: “I’m sorry, and you are always right, here’s a smoothie to thank you for being an amazing, spectacular human being. I hope to be just like you one day.”

She will drink it.

After that, about 37 seconds later, she is your slave for life. Be a kind master, ‘kay?

With the sincerest of sincerity, yours untruly, Dear Goblin