Pretty Big

Thinneas the prophet, though without eyes, could always tell who entered his cave before they announced themselves, such was his ability to see beyond the realm of the current moment. And yet, he required no predictive mind to interpret the thundering steps that approached him now.

“Could my ears deceive me?” Thinneas called. “Might it be that the hulking mass known as Grandlock has entered my spelunkable abode? The mountain of pure muscle who towers over horses? The great warrior who married not one fair maiden but two so that they might take turns standing upon each others’ shoulders just so one of them can place a gentle kiss upon their shared husband’s cheek, such are his gargantuan proportions?”

“Tis I,” said Grandlock, setting down his mace and kneeling before the eyeless seer. “And I have come to you because I have decided that enough is enough. It is time to face my destiny and defeat the evil mage Marquitis de Slade. But I must ask: what, o Thinneas, will I need for the journey?”

“You will need a powerful anti-venom,” Thinneas said, the images swirling in his mind. “For the journey will take you through the territory of Violetta, the snake-throwing queen of Heritfore.”

“Very good,” Grandlock said. “And what else?”

“You will need to visit the sculptor Rebissius, so that he may chisel you a pair of stone earpieces that will block out all noise,” said Thinneas, “as you will find yourself within the vicinity of Torlomagne, the orator whose very voice is a poisonous gas to all whose ears it enters.”

“I shall go to Rebissius’s studio upon the snowcapped Mount Lykke as soon as I finish here,” Grandlock said. “Tell me, what more is there?”

“You will want to acquire two Wise Owl Outfitters Oversized Quick-Dry Towels,” Thinneas said.

Grandlock, who’d kept his head bowed until now, looked up. “Sorry, what? Towels? Will my course take me past Yorva, the wave whisperer?”

“No,” said Thinneas.

“Glark, the river raiser then?”

“No.”

“Bellot and Ballew, the tricksters who can crack bottles with their combined mind-power?”

“No.”

“Then why?” Grandlock demanded.

Thinneas shrugged. “Just a lot of walking. Could get sweaty. Or maybe it’ll rain. Or maybe you’ll want a soft surface to do some stretching along the way. Point is, they’re good towels. Absorbent. Dry fast. Plus, they’re big. And a guy like you? Must be hard to find towels your size.”

“Okay, fine,” said Grandlock. “I’ll get the towels.”

“Then you are ready, my son,” Thinneas said. The two of them shook hands, and the walking monument known as Grandlock set out once and for all to fulfill his destiny.