Chapter 1 – A Cold War.
“There are too many fools in the world who prance around thinking their sensible… I’d rather be sensible and admit I’m a fool…”
– Ramas of Mascaponia – Thinker and Philosopher
You know, I’m not quite sure what just happened…
You see, one minute this guy, alright, lets call him Carlo Alberto, he was filing cheeseburgers into the ever developed filing cabinet of human beings… the next he was…
Alright, the moment after the next, he felt the cool crisp pluck of a woodpecker on his face. Believe me, this guy, Carlo, he knew what it felt like to have a woodpecker pecking at his face. All the flippin’ time. Day in. Day out.
Reminds me of an advert.
Sorry about this.
If you’re out there and lonely; catch me if I fall into digression…
Three times.
Three times he blinked to open his eyes. It should have been more, what with the shock he got.
“Hello, or should I say… PingPow!”
(Between me and you and don’t tell Carlo, he doesn’t know yet… – that’s the voice of Balua Son of Earth, Holder of the Majique Waffle Girdle)
It was like a bed, a soft green plumped up feather bed of lush ever fresh grass; easing his fall into the world.
The world around Carlo adjusted into eyeline, it was a forest clearing. Why do all fantasies start in forest clearings? Something about light perhaps? Secrecy? Forests are perhaps viewed as a magical place. Well, certainly here was no magic.
Carlo Alberto stood his weary figure up. He looked down – Ah – still in his work clothes, that’s never a good impression… Where was he? How isolated did he feel? Very.
What’s more, to top it all off, the Hompride Man was grinning at him.
“PingPow! I’m Balua Son of Earth, Holder of the Majique Girdle!”
“I’m sorry,” replied Carlo, squinting, “Did you say you magic?”
“No. majique.”
“Majique,” nodded Carlo, “That’s what I thought you said. I’m, well, I think I am… Carlo Alberto. I work in a cheeseburger factory.”
“Carlo Alberto as in Carlo Alberto of the Southern Straits of CaluaCalua, Fourth Duke of FozFoz?!”
“Erm, no, Carlo Alberto of a Cheeseburger Factory.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, Carlo Alberto of...”
But Alas! At this point there was a THUD! And the tree behind them exploded into smithereens.
* * * *
“You know you still look gorgeous.”
Alright, so that was the voice of a King. The King of Saffra. Yeh. I know, there has to be a king somewhere to ruin all the fun…
“I hate myself.”
And that was his beautiful daughter... holding a 700% fine silk dress to her figure.
You know, this daughter was fat. And when I say fat, I mean FAT. Yeh. AS FAT as can be. SO FAT. I’m not afraid to say she was FAT. FAT. FAT. FAT. Are you going to sue me? She was FAT.
And when I say she was FAT, I mean she has a perfectly WONDERFUL well balanced and streamline figure.
Beautiful.
“I hate myself…” she grumbles.
“But darling! You look wonderful! Princes are lining up to meet you! Look outside the window!”
She moved cautiously over to the window and peered through the curtains. Indeed, there was a line of bedraggled princes gazing ambiguously into the palace walls. They were all incredibly handsome, each more pretentious than the other. Except for one… But he was downright ugly.
“I want to kill myself…”
“Really! Moona! Why say such things?”
Yeh, you heard right. Her name is Moona! What a crazy name! How silly and absurd! What frolics and fun! Moona!
(Apologies if your name is Moona)
There was a knock at the door.
The King opened it to find a Dragon.
“Oh,” said the king, “It’s you again.”
“Yes,” said the Dragon, “Just to let you know, I might blow your house down, burn your palace and steal your daughter.”
“How exciting!” exclaimed Moona.
“Well!” replied the King, “I might order all my armies to attack you! Puncturing you limb by limb with thousands of arrow heads and using your liver as a bouncy castle for the grandchildren!”
“Fair enough…” said the Dragon.
“But really,” continued the King, “This is all because of your Aunty Ethel isn’t it?”
The Dragon looked sheepish (If you can picture that) and muttered under his breath,
“Yes…”
“Well,” reasoned the King, “Why don’t I send some muffins up to her on the old Red Riding Express Post, then we’ll all sit down for tea and scones later shall we hmm?”
“That sounds fair,” said the Dragon, “But I’m still going to take your incredibly beautifully fat thin daughter.”
“Oh” said the King.
And with that, Moona had been whisked off with the Dragon… Never to be seen again… until the next chapter.
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