by Şerban Andrei Mazilu
“Behold!” he said, opening his arms as to embrace the mountain-sized beast made of blues and greens and cyans and turquoise, and a little sandy-beige gradient where its hair was suppose to be. “The LEVIATHAN!”
“The Leviathan? What’s a Leviathan?” I asked all-puzzled, for I had never seen such a monster before.
“This is a Leviathan!” the goblin replied with a grin that could blind the sun. If the sun had eyes and would actually take any interest in my ailurophobiac green companion.
“…Okay. What does it DO?”
The beast turned on its coiled lowed snake body (that looked like a roll of gigantic blueberry bubblegum) and peered at us through a pair of bottle bottom glasses the size of two reasonably-priced bungalows. It opened it’s massive maw, making us yelp. It had good hearing for someone so old. Must have compensated for the bad eyes.
“I say,” he declared with a British accent and a voice that wasn’t nearly as heavy as I was expecting. “You two are rather rude discussing about me as if I wasn’t here. And as I told you before, old chap, call me Levi – Mr. Leviathan was my father.”
“Levi…” I mumbled without realizing a smile was creeping on my lips. The oversize extinguished-matchstick glare turned to me, but crossed itself as… Levi was too close or I wasn’t far enough.
“That’s right, buddy! As for what I do, the answer is simple!” he added and raised his arm into a victorious pose, holding a pair of blue jeans. “I do, as you put it, cheap and reliable trousers and pantaloons!”
“That’s it?” I said.
“Well, no, that’s what I’m known for!” Levi said politely and produced a tiny bottle (tiny compared to his galactic body) of perfume and handed it to me. “I also make shirts and perfume and even lighters. Any item really that can promote the company. There’s no bad publicity, nor too much of it, eh?” he added and winked at me.