They made their way to the staff cafeteria, oblivious to anyone who might be overhearing their conversation. “Collective names are fascinating, have you ever studied them?” Noah asked.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Some of them are pretty self-explanatory. A prickle of porcupines, a cackle of hyenas, a pounce of cats, a slither of snakes. But it’s a nest of vipers, a quiver of cobras and a rhumba of rattlesnakes. They also have a parliament of owls and a congress of baboons, which I find insulting to baboons myself.”
Wyatt sighed, trying to hide his smile.
“And solitary animals are given collectives regardless of the fact that you’ll never see a group of them. Groups of people have collectives too. A den of thieves. Even things that don’t exist have collectives. Unicorns, sasquatches. Sasquatches?” Noah stopped walking. “Sasquatchae. Sasquatch,” he tried instead. He looked at
Wyatt and shook his head, a furrow creasing his handsome brow as he held up one hand.
Wyatt pressed his lips hard together and tried not to laugh. He waited for Noah to work out the ramble. It was perhaps his favorite aspect of Noah’s personality.
“Anyway,” Noah said as he began walking again.
“What are they called?”
“What are what called?”
“A collective of sasquatch … es.”
“Oh. A pungent. Creative, huh? My favorite is a smack of jellyfish.”
“How do you get laid as much as you do?”
“I don’t know. I know things. Lots of things. Lots of dirty things. What were we talking about?”
Wyatt Case and Noah Drake from Gravedigger’s Brawl (aka the ghost story that haunts whoever reads it.)
Let’s see if a mere snippet can fuck up your computer!