How to Rescue a Dead Princess (3 page)

“Then why did you keep us alive this long?” demanded Randall.

“Here's the deal. We're starved for entertainment, and as a crew of bloodthirsty thieves, we like our entertainment to be violent.”

“All that violence will rot your brain,” said the princess.

Scar turned to face her. “That has yet to be proven in a reliable, unbiased study!” She returned her attention to Sir William and Randall. “Anyway, what I want is a good fight. One-on-one.”

“Fine!” said Sir William. “I'll fight any of you!”

“Not you. You'd kick my butt. I'm talking about your squire.”

Randall shifted uncomfortably. “I'm not much fun in fights. I tend to bleed all over the place and spoil it for everyone. How about you give Sir William a handicap? Tie one hand behind his back or something.”

“I've got an idea,” said one of the men. “We could say he has to hop on one foot during the whole fight!”

“Or we could spin him around a whole bunch of times, get him really dizzy first!” chimed in another.

“Make him stick out his tongue and balance a rock on it!”

“Make him sing a song that we choose, and whenever somebody shouts ‘New song!’ he has to start singing some other song that somebody else picks, but if he doesn't know the lyrics he has to do a somersault instead ... no, change that to playing a game of leapfrog with the squire.”

“Make him ... uhhhh...”

“Quiet!” shouted Scar. “Somebody unlock the squire.”

After about twenty minutes spent trying to figure out who had the key, the chains were removed and Randall was escorted to the center of the clearing. Scar and Randall stood a few feet away, facing each other. One of the men walked over, holding a wooden box.

“If you win,” Scar explained, “you get your precious princess back. If I win, your king is going to be giving up his entire fortune for her return. Now, pick your weapon.”

She gestured, and the man opened the box. Inside were four dead squirrels. “As the person being challenged, you get first selection,” Scar said.

Randall stared into the box, straining his eyes to make sure that the contents were indeed deceased squirrels. They were. He realized that Scar was no doubt aware of their presence in the box, but he still felt uncontrollably compelled to point it out.

“Those are dead squirrels,” he said.

“I know,” replied Scar.

“Oooh, can I see them?” asked Princess Janice, craning her neck.

“Forgive me if I seem a bit ... brain-dead,” said Randall, “but the idea I'm getting here is that you want us to engage in hand-to-hand combat with dead squirrels.”

“That's right. Live squirrels writhe too much,” explained Scar. “Now pick one.”

The man with the box leaned toward Randall. “I suggest the one on the left,” he whispered. “It's the freshest.”

Randall picked up the squirrel by the tail and lifted it out of the box. He swung it back and forth a few times, testing its weight. “I guess this one will do.”

“An excellent choice,” said Scar, taking a light brown squirrel from the box. The man holding the box replaced the lid and stepped out of the way.

The men on the sidelines began to applaud and cheer and whistle and make obnoxious nostril sounds and whoop and hiccup. Scar gave Randall an I'm-going-to-beat-you-to-a-gooshy-pulp-you-skinny-little-twerp-and-when-I'm-done-I'm-going-to-stomp-your-unappealing-face-eight-feet-into-the-dirt look. Randall suddenly wished he'd selected a different squirrel. This one felt like it was going to come apart.

“There's one rule,” said Scar. “Only squirrel contact is allowed. Aside from that, anything goes. We start ... NOW!”

Scar lunged forward and swung her squirrel. Randall cried out just as the squirrel smashed into his face. He staggered back a few steps, spitting out bits of fur. Scar rushed at him, striking him in the side of the head with incredible force. Randall dropped to the ground. The men roared with laughter.

“Get up!” shouted Sir William.

Randall rubbed the side of his head. He could feel the distinct imprint of a squirrel face there.

Scar chuckled and walked back to the center of the clearing. “I think we've set an all-time record here, gentlemen! Now let's kill the knight!”

“No!” Randall stood up. “Have a taste of
this
!” He swung the squirrel over his head, working up some velocity. The body of the squirrel chose that moment to detach from the tail, flying off to the side and knocking out one of the men. Randall stared at the worthless tail in his hand as his stomach did a figure-eight.

Scar laughed wickedly as she began spinning her squirrel behind her back and under her legs in a truly impressive display of skill. Randall's pulse quickened. Scar began to slowly advance toward him, the squirrel getting closer ... closer....

“Stop!” Randall shouted.

Scar stopped and gave him a questioning look.

Hey, it worked
, thought Randall.
That sure was easy
.

Scar began to swing the squirrel again.

“Stop!” Randall shouted.

Scar continued to move forward, the squirrel spinning with deadly speed.

Crud
, thought Randall.

He leapt out of the way at the third-to-last second, which was too early and gave Scar a chance to alter her direction and smack him in the face again. He hit the ground, his head coming into contact with a healthy-sized rock that, ironically, had been purposely placed in that very spot over two hundred years ago by the warrior Edmund the Untanned in the hopes that some day it would cause harm to somebody, or at least become a major inconvenience. Sadly, Edmund was long-dead and never got to see the seeds of his labor blossom into fruition. He would have been pleased.

Randall lay there for a moment, his head aching with so much pain that it blocked out the statement he wanted to make. He slowly sat up, waiting for his vision to de-blur. As Scar returned to sharp focus, he recalled what he wanted to say.

“Ow.”

“Do you surrender?” Scar inquired.

Then something bizarre happened. But it happened in some far-off kingdom and had no effect on Randall's current situation. He shakily managed to get back to his feet again, while his body put in a formal request for him to return to an unmoving position.

“Ready for more, then?” Scar sneered.

As he stared into her eyes, a change overcame Randall. His fear turned into anger. “That's right. I may only be a squire, but I will defend my princess to the death!”

“I don't think so. You're no hero. You're a pathetic little cretin, and you'll always be a pathetic little cretin, even when you're a dead pathetic little cretin.”

“Bite me,” Randall said.

“Eat me,” Scar replied.

“Lick me,” Randall suggested.

“Chew me!” Scar offered.

“Lap me!” Randall urged.

“Gnaw him!” Sir William pitched in.

“Ingest me!” Scar recommended.

“Masticate me!” Randall advised.

“Deglutiate me!” Scar proposed.

Without warning, Randall rushed toward the man holding the wooden box. Before the man could react, Randall had tackled him and knocked him to the ground. The other men weren't sure whether to intervene or not, so they pretended to have been paying attention to some birdies. Randall wrenched the box out of his grip, then got up just in time to dodge a squirrel attack by Scar.

He opened the box, grabbed the two remaining weapons, then tossed the box aside, hitting the unconscious guy who'd been struck by the tailless squirrel.

“Those don't frighten me,” said Scar. “It's like the old saying: It's not how many you have, it's how much use you get out of each one.”

“Say what?”

They rushed at each other, then attacked. The squirrels collided with a sickening
plink!
sound. Randall swung his other squirrel, bashing Scar in the face and knocking her back several steps.

“Oh no!” exclaimed the man who'd been holding the box. “That was the one that was foaming at the mouth!”

“You're through, squire!” said Scar through clenched teeth. The fact that these teeth were clenched around her tongue made the sight less pleasant. “You're dead! Worm chow! Necrophile bait!”

“Look, I just—” Randall began.

“Shut up! You're not talking your way out of this. What do you have to say to that, huh?”

“Nothing. ‘Look, I just—’ was all I wanted to say.”

Scar began to swing her squirrel once again. Randall tied the tails of his own squirrels together and began to swing them like a pair of nunchaku.

“
Eeeeeyaaaaa
!” he cried.

He flung the squirrels at her. Their connected tails wrapped around her neck, and their bodies slammed against each side of her head. Scar dropped to the ground and dreamed she had turned into a colony of lice.

“You did it!” shouted Princess Janice.

“Wow!” exclaimed Randall. “If I'd known I was this tough, I'd have started kicking butt years ago!”

The men started to discuss their plan of action amongst themselves. It was put to a vote. Three-fourths of them raised their hands for option one. One of them demanded a recount. They voted again. Option one passed again. They all readied their bows and arrows and aimed them at Randall.

“You scum-slurping wretches!” growled Sir William.

“You can't do this!” Randall insisted. “Whatever happened to honor? Whatever happened to being able to trust your fellow man? There was a time, not so long ago, when a person like me could knock someone unconscious with a set of dead squirrel nunchaku and walk away if that was what we'd agreed upon. Now, are you men so lacking in conscience that you would take part in destroying the bonds of faith?”

“I am,” said one.

“What are you, cattle?” asked Randall. “There was a time when men could think for themselves. They didn't have to follow the leader, do what everyone else did. They had minds! They had souls! If one of you decided to jump off the Kilpatrick Bridge onto that flagpole in the center of the river, would all of you? Are you lemmings? Don't any of you have initiative?”

“I don't,” said one.

“You know, there was a time when men didn't have weapons, a—”

“Quiet, squire!” said Sir William. “I think you all should know that I've picked the lock on these chains, and will be slaying each and every one of you very shortly.”

The men lowered their arrows and took off running into the forest. One of them made a “yip!” sound.

“You're my hero!” said Princess Janice to Sir William.

“That's not surprising. Squire, find the key so I can get out of this.”

“You were lying?” Randall was incredulous. “You know, there was a time—”

“Be quiet and find the key.”

“Wouldn't it be amusing if one of the guys who just stampeded out of here had it?”

“Just find it!” Sir William ordered.

Randall knelt down next to Scar. He reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and read aloud. “
Dearest Pooky Moocher Lovey Frumps
—”

“Forget the note!” said the princess. “Find the key!”

Randall slipped the note into his shoe for future entertainment, then checked Scar's other pocket. It contained a silver key. “Found it!” He looked at it more closely. “It's got something written on it.”

“What?” asked Sir William.

“
This is not the key to the lock on the chains
.”

“Search the man you knocked out with the box.”

Randall walked over and knelt down next to him. He checked his left pocket. Inside was a coupon. “
Buy one, get one free
.” he read aloud.

“Where?” the princess asked.

Randall flipped the coupon over. “Madame Taylor's Supreme hall of Exotic Dancers.” He checked the other pocket. Inside was a ring with about ten keys on it. “This might be it.”

He hurried over to the princess and began to test each key. “Hmmmm ... nope ... hmmmm ... nope ... hmmmm ... nope ... hmmmm ... nope ... hmmmm ... nope ... hmmmm ... nope ... should I start over?”

“Confound it!” said Sir William. “Find my sword! You'll have to cut down the tree.”

Randall glanced around the clearing. “No sword here.” He approached the stump where the crystal lay. When he picked it up, it began to glow with a soft, ethereal light.

A voice spoke. “It has the power. It is the key.”

“What?” Randall asked.

“I said, it has the power. It is the key,” repeated Sir William. “Now bring it here.”

As Randall moved toward Sir William, the crystal began to glow brighter and brighter. It began to quiver in Randall's hands. He immediately dropped it.

“Good Lord that's freaky!” Randall exclaimed.

“Pick it up!” Sir William ordered.

“What if it's nuclear-powered or something? I could get radiation poisoning! I could turn into a twisted, misshapen creature before your very eyes, and then you'd both be up the creek!”

“Pick it up, dagnabbit!”

Randall picked it up. The quivering increased. He crouched down and touched the crystal to the chain. It instantly dissolved right through the metal. Sir William stood up and snatched the crystal out of Randall's grasp.

“Good work, squire,” he said, taking a couple steps toward Princess Janice. “Ow! Charley horse!” He fell to his knees. Randall took the crystal, then went over and freed the princess.

“Thank you,” she said, putting her arms around him. “You will be well-rewarded upon our return home.”

Scar moaned and began to stir. “I'll handle this,” said Princess Janice, approaching the fallen woman and prodding her with her toe.

Sir William gestured for Randall to bring the crystal over to him. Together they began to examine it. The glow was fading. “Fascinating,” Sir William said. “Absolutely fascinating. I wonder what other powers it has?”

He ran his hand along the crystal. A huge beam of light shot from it, firing across the clearing and striking the princess in the back. She instantly exploded into flames and fell to the ground in a burning heap.

“
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH
!!!”

Randall dropped the crystal. It fired another blast of light that narrowly missed Sir William and incinerated the tree that he'd been chained to.