“Aw, haw, haw! Pissed your pants ’cause of me!” Snaggle laughed with real pleasure at the thought, and dropped the small boy with disdain. “Gutless piss-pants ain’t worth smashing anyway… too much fun to have around.” Still mirthful, Snaggle merely kicked Gord a couple of times, and not hard enough to break ribs at that. Gord lay still, too frightened to move.

“Listen, chicken-piss! I let you off easy this time. You made me laugh. Next time, I won’t be so nice, so you better watch out! When I see you ’round here again, if you ain’t got nothin’ better than a broken toothpick and a pair o’ drabs, I’ll bust you up good-an’ slow, too, so’s all us guys can enjoy it. Now get your yella ass outta my face, ’cause I hate gutless little punks!”

Gord scrambled away on all fours, clambered to his feet, and ran as fast as he could. As he fled, Gord heard: “Make it a handful o’ copper next time, piss-pants, and I’ll make ya our jester! Haw, haw, haw!”

Gord’s face was flushed with shame-a hot tingling that washed away the feeling, but not the memory, of the chill, pale fear he had just experienced. In the back of his mind Gord heard Leena cackling and screeching at him in her hag’s voice: “Gutless little runt, you ain’t even any use to yerself!”

It was true, for now he had nothing, no one. There was no place for him to go, nowhere to hide. His mind darted here and there, skittering from thought to thought like a mouse trapped in a box. The voice in his head kept cackling and berating him, though, underlying his frenzy, and this kept Gord from totally giving way to panic and despair. He was weak and lacked courage, but there was hatred to drive him!

What had just happened was too much for even Gord to pass off as merely another episode in a rotten life. Gutless or not, he had some bit of pride remaining. Somehow, Gord had to restore himself in his own eyes and settle with Snaggle in the process.