I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. If you could point any out, if you find them, that would be swell!

The clock ticked monotonously, filling the room with its sound and driving Kate mad. The thrift store, with the exception of that ticking clock, was silent. Kate wished that a customer would come in and break the silence, but her wish was ignored. It seemed as though she would be trapped in this silent, boring store forever. To pass the time, Kate decided to browse through the clothing racks - an action she had gone through twice already that day.

As she looked through the pants rack, she heard a sound other than that of the clock. It was the sound of singing, but muffled and unlike singing she had ever heard before. If she hadn't been bored, Kate would have chosen to ignore it but, as it were, she was bored and had time on her hands to investigate. The singing seemed to be coming from inside the pants rack. It was circular, with space in the center large enough for a person to hide in. Kate was certain that she had not seen anyone climb into the pants rack, but decided to check anyways.

She pushed aside some pants with two hands, as though opening curtains, and peered inside. There, in the center of the pants rack and sitting on a small stool, was a little orange fellow. He had orange skin, orange eyes, orange hair, and orange clothes.

"Do you mind!" he exclaimed in a cockney accent, which, though it seemed strange, sounded orange. He tugged the pants-curatin closed, and kicked Kate in the chin with a little orange foot.

Kate stumbled backwards in shock and pain. She rolled up her pantleg and saw that a bruise - of the orange variety - was quickly forming upon her shin. As she hobbled over to the counter, she wondered what exactly had just happened. She refused to believe that she had just been kicked in the shin by a small orange man, and yet she knew that it must be true. The only way to be sure, Kate decided, would be to peek into the pants rack again.

Kate grabbed some shin pads from a bin nearby, and strapped them on. As well, she took the phone off of its charger so that if the little orange man attacked her, she could call for help. Approaching the pants rack carefully, she shoved the phone into her back pocket and made ready to part the pants-curtain again. In one swift motion, she pushed the pants aside.

"Oi!" shouted the small orange fellow.

"Who are you?" asked Kate, her fists held up in self-defense. "What are you?"

WIth a roll of his orange eyes, he replied, "I'm Henry and I'm a Thrift Store Goblin, obviously." He hopped off of his little stool, climbed up Kate, and sat down on her shoulder.

"Thrift Store Goblin?" Kate questioned. Henry weighed hardly anything at all, she noticed, and smelled like an orange.

"Are you deaf? THRIFT STORE GOBLIN!" he yelled directly into Kate's ear.

"I heard you!" exclaimed Kate. "I'm just having trouble believing it. I've never heard of a Thrift Store Goblin before."

Henry smacked his forehead and rolled his eyes at Kate's stupidity. He hopped down off of her shoulder, reached into the pants rack, and pulled out a cd player. He placed a little orange cd inside and pushed 'play'. Music began to play, happy and orange music, and Henry began to dance and sing.

"Back in the land of Magical Orange

Lived Goblins who had a love of Thrift Stores

So when the land of Magical Orange blew up

Us Goblins all moved into various pants racks."

He then did an adorable little jig, threw pretty orange dust up in the air, and then bowed. When the music ended, he quickly put the cd player back into the pants rack and hopped back up onto Kate's shoulder. He looked into her eyes, rested his arm on top of her head and asked, "Does that explain everything?"

Kate said nothing for a moment, and then answered, "It didn't rhyme."

Henry glared at Kate and said, "We Thrift Store Goblins love Thrift Stores, not poetry."

"I can see that," said Kate, "but I'm sure you could have found a word that rhymed with stores."

"Really," scoffed Henry. "Like what?"

"Gee, I don't know, let me see...bores, chores, doors, floors, pours, roars, soars, wars..."

"Well aren't you just 'Little Miss Poetry'," said Henry with another glare and a scowl.

Kate, who had a cold, sniffed. Henry, being a dear sweet little Thrift Store Goblin, thought that he had made her cry. He flung his arms around her head and whispered, "Shh, I'm sorry."

Awkwardly, Kate patted Henry's head and said, "It's okay."

After standing there for a few minutes, and with no warning, Henry leaped off of Kate and dove into the pants rack. Not two seconds later, Kate's mom walked into the store. She kicked the snow off of boots and then looked at Kate and asked, "Why are you wearing shin pads?"

Kate hurriedly took them off and tossed them back into their bin. "I was wearing them," Kate replied, "because the Thrift Store Goblin kicked me and I didn't want to get hurt if he decided to kick me again. Want to see the bruise he gave me?" She rolled up her pantleg but there was nothing there. Her mother stared at her like she was out of her mind, and truly believe that it was so when Kate climbed into the pants rack. "Where are you Henry?" she heard Kate ask.

"Who's Henry?" Kate's mother asked. She peered into the pants rack where Kate was sitting on the floor rather awkwardly. After helping Kate out, she said, "I don't think you should work here alone anymore."

The End.