Homework Proves Troublesome

Kelsey awoke suddenly.

"Who are you?" he asked, blinking groggily at the shadowy figure standing before you. "What are you doing in my room?"

"My name is Geralt," the figure rasped. "I'm here about your posting."

Kelsey thought for a moment.

"Oh," he said. "You mean the thing about my homework?"

Geralt nodded grimly.

"Basically, I'm pretty busy basically all the time," Kelsey began to explain.

Geralt, still listening, began to prowl about the room.

"I've got a ton of homework - being a student, as I am - and sometimes, especially in the wrong conditions, I have a hard time getting it done," Kelsey continued.

Geralt looked at a shelf. There was an apple there. Then there wasn't.

"Of course, when I don't get my work done, it tends to pile up," Kelsey said with chagrin.

Geralt paused by Kelsey's desk. A pile of loose change vanished.

"And, well, over the last few days - I didn't get my work done at all!" Kelsey said.

Geralt examined a pile of clothes near the foot of Kelsey's bed. Half a wheel of Roquefort cheese seemed to be buried within. It vanished into Geralt's copious pockets.

"So, naturally, it mutated and transformed into a hideous homework-monster, and now it lurks within our garage, emerging at night to attempt to eat us," Kelsey concluded.

Geralt turned back to Kelsey. "An Ijjurdant," he rasped. "Vulnerable to fire, silver, and mold. Slow-moving, but deadly when provoked. I'll want $50."

"It's vulnerable to money?" Kelsey asked.

"My payment," Geralt growled.

"That's kinda a lot," Kelsey said. "I mean, I have an allowance, but..."

Geralt gave him a gimlet-eyed glare - the effect, perhaps, somewhat reduced by the dim lighting, but palpable nonetheless.

"Okay," Kelsey said. "When you get it done."

"I'll be back," Geralt rasped, and left.

Outside, behind the garage, Geralt contemplated his arsenal. From a pouch on his belt, he drew a small vial; he uncorked it, and then swiftly downed the contents. He stood a moment longer; then entered the garage, movements swift and precise.

Half an hour passed.

Geralt, covered in blood and ichor, emerged. In one hand he held a slime-covered sword; in the other, the soot-blackened, severed head of the Ijjurdant.

Kelsey was there waiting for him - along with his father and brothers. All were tensed, waiting.

Geralt ignored them. "My money," he demanded in his tortured voice, dropping the Ijjurdant on the ground and extending a hand.

Kelsey's father spoke in response. "We don't need to pay you anything, Witcher. Move along."

Geralt looked at them.

After a moment, he spoke.

"On my body, I carry two swords, an axe, a dagger, and various magic potions. I was genetically modified for improved skill at combat - then mutated, for the same - then spent the better part of two decades either training for combat or engaging in it. Also, I have telekinetic powers. You have?"

Kelsey's family huddled. After a minute's hushed, but intense discussion, they emerged with a consensus: "An excellent knowledge of programming!"

"That might have been useful if you'd used it to build a giant robot to fight me," Geralt rasped. "As it is, it's pretty useless."

Geralt considered.

"...you didn't build a giant robot."

"Did you?"

There was silence from Kelsey & company.

Then, belatedly, Kelsey answered:

"...yeah, I guess not."

"We totally should!" Kelsey's younger brother opined.

Geralt indicated his outstretched hand; reluctantly, Kelsey handed over the amount demanded.

Geralt cast one last look at the Kelsey-tribe; then stalked away, into the everpresent night.

Another episode in the grim life of Geralt, the White Wolf*!

*(Also, Kelsey, who has problems with homework sometimes.)