by Matthew Sanborn Smith
"It is of no matter," he assured Soot. "After today you'll require my services no longer and I shall be gone. Tell me, have you seen it?"
"I have not seen it myself, sir, but I assure you something is down there." He folded his hands, the picture of compliance.
"I believe you, certainly, old Soot. I only ask in the case that you might provide a description. I may have encountered such a creature before."
"Ah, yes!" said the old man. He yelled toward the house and a moment later a boy ran out to them. His head was bandaged rather shoddily and he tripped and fell twice, for his sight was obviously hindered.
"Hurry up, hurry up!", the old man cried.
Soot stooped into the boy's face and yelled, "This is the man who is going to kill the thing in the cellar." The boy's half-covered eyes blinked to shield him from the spit that flew from the old man's mouth. "Tell him what you saw," Soot continued, "So that he may be better prepared for the killing."
The boy nodded and turned his entire body with a jerk to face the huge man.
"It was big!" the little boy yelled, raising his hands to the sky. "A little bigger than you. A real big head with arms and sorta chicken legs comin' out. And the skin was like you and me . . . Well like me, anyway, except it was melted all over him. Like candle wax."
The old man stooped and yelled, "Tell him about the teeth!"
"Big, fat, stubby teeth!" the boy yelled.
"Oh, no," the Blue Man said softly.
(To Be Continued)