In all of my fantasies, tusks are a must.
I don’t know what it is about orcs, but I have loved them since I was a child. I would pretend one came and whisked me away to a far-off land to fight the bad guys and save the kingdom. As I get older, my fascination with them doesn’t wane, but instead of saving the day, my fantasies become a whole lot dirtier. Too bad orcs aren’t real.
I see a social media post about an Orc Fest; I figure, why not? Seeing people cosplaying my favorite beings will be a blast. Sure, it won’t be the same as finding my fated orc mate and living happily ever after, but that’s okay. It’s not like that could ever happen anyway.
When I get there, there’s only one orc and he’s no cosplayer. Now I am standing in front of my literal six-plus-foot tall, green, tusked dream come true, and what comes out of my mouth?
Please don’t eat me.
Only I kind of wish he would.
