The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  Steve looked at her with horror filled eyes as the nearly deserted room suddenly burst into chaos. Any number of out of work and down on their luck adventure seekers suddenly swarmed about the table. It took Steve ten minutes to quiet the giddy throng as he tried to explain to Gertrude the dangers of mentioning the Q word in such a place. She could see the obvious results and promised never to do such a silly thing again. Once the assembled creatures were quiet, Steve sorted through them with comments like, “sorry Chicamomicamar, not today,” and “we are not really in need of your magical sneezes.” The disappointed has-beens and never-wases left with slumping shoulders and teary eyes until only three remained.

  A tiny person stood on the end of the table, a llama with a horn on its nose looked at them eagerly, and a cloud of greenish-orange gas floated beside the llama. Steve made introductions, “this is Melvin the Giant.” In a side whisper he added, “he’s really an Imp but he thinks himself a Giant; it was all those self-esteem lectures they get in pixie school that did it, he really took them to heart.” Louder, he continued, “this is Ludwig the rhinoceros and Stench the gaseous anomaly.”

  Gertrude frowned at Ludwig, “you look like a llama with a horn on your nose.”

  The camelid nodded, “is that not the definition of rhinoceros? Horned nose? I am precisely what I claim to be.”

  “I see,” said she, though clearly she did not. She looked at the gas cloud, “what is a gaseous anomaly?”

  Stench replied, “it is the result of a dwarf eating a deep fried burrito. The chemical reaction that occurs occasionally results in a product with a life of its own. Like me. Sadly, I am not considered appropriate in polite society.”

  Gertrude said in wonder, “you cannot help your upbringing I suppose.”

  She whispered to Steve, “why did you not get rid of all of them?”

  He said in an undertone, “I could not have gotten rid of any of them if I had tried to be rid of them all. Don’t blame me, you are the one who mentioned the Q word.” He said for all to hear, “what then is our…agenda…my lady?”

  Gertrude stared at him blankly and said, “I have no idea.”

  The entire company suddenly broke into excited cheers and eagerness lit their eyes. She stared at Steve for interpretation. He said, “most agendas that might be attempted in Lofrenier are too dangerous, complicated, or important to be risked by the likes of us. Your agenda, what little of it there is, sounds like one we can actually manage and in accomplishing it, we can become heroes and perhaps free ourselves from this absurd nonexistence.”

  She nodded in comprehension but asked, “then how do we know when we have accomplished our task?” She smiled in understanding, answering her own question, “we just set forth and whatever befalls us is our destined adventure.”

  Steve nodded, “precisely. We shall set out at dawn.” He glanced around, but a look of disappointment crossed his face as he noticed that there were no shadowy figures about that might be plotting against them. Only the cat on the hearthrug paid them any attention at all, and that only a benign contempt

  They went to bed at a reasonable hour and left at a quite unreasonable hour. This was dawn? Gertrude asked why they had been roused from their beds in the darkest hour of the night and Steve simply replied, “that is the proper hour to go adventuring.” She sighed and continued to march along in silence, why did she persist in asking such silly questions?

  The two humans walked, the gaseous anomaly (hereafter the GA) floated along, and the llamaceros trotted along with the Imp/Giant and the tavern cat on his back. Why the cat had decided to join them was anybody’s guess, but then who, in any world, ever understands cats? Gertrude yawned another silly question, “are we not to soon meet a wizened old man to give us direction or pose us a riddle?”

  Steve shrugged, “as there are no real heroes in this wood, there is little need for a Wise Man, but Wise Guys we have aplenty. I would be content if we were spared such company, myself.” The assorted company muttered their agreement, but as always happens in fairy stories, once the question had been spoken aloud, it was not too many chapters later that the prophecy fulfilled itself. And so did Hamric the Disgraced Comedian join their enigmatic company. They found the poor fellow sitting forlornly on the side of the road and though Steve hastened their pace, it was too late. He joined their party as they jogged past and immediately began telling jokes that were old even in this Medieval world. Steve said in an undertone, to Gertrude’s aghast face, “that is what happens when you inadvertently insult a witch in a nightclub.” She shivered and hoped such a ghastly fate would never befall her. They marched on.

  They stopped at daybreak for a much needed rest and some breakfast. Hamric proved his usefulness to the company by producing a Hat of Unspoiling Bounty. He took off his magical headgear and from it produced a can of semi-edible pork product, a plastic wrapped, crème-filled sponge cake, and a case of diet cola. It was not the organic, froufrou elvish fare sometimes found in such tales, but it kept them fed, even the GA would not stoop to eating tofu though maybe the cat would, you never know with cats. As they ate, Gertrude asked, “are any of you going to the wedding?”

  They stopped eating and stared at her in astonishment. The Imp intoned, “silly girl, I am not getting married.” His ego could not fathom attending an event not featuring himself.

  Steve asked, “you mean The Wedding?! I had not heard the Princess had returned! When is it?”

  Gertrude said, “the day after tomorrow.”

  Steve paled, “so He has two days to wreak havoc ere Happily Ever After sets in.”

  Gertrude frowned, “who is He?”

  Steve said in confusion, “you do not know who He is?” Gertrude shook her head as Steve asked, “what world are you from?” She shrugged and he continued, “He is the Dark Lord, the ultimate evil in our world.”

  She asked, “what is His name?”

  Steve shook his head, “no one knows. It was so long and unpronounceable that it was forgotten long ago. He is simply He, Him, the Dark Lord, or He Who Cannot Be Pronounced, if you are being formal.”

  Gertrude asked, “why would He want to stop the wedding?”

  Steve replied, “He cannot stand Happily Ever After, it does horrible things to the morale of his Minions. They get the idea that they should live Happily Ever After too. And we all know that is a ridiculous aspiration for a Minion. A Minion’s sole task in life is to die by the hundreds in pointless conflict, they can’t do that if they want to live happily ever after. So He will stop at nothing to see that it does not come to pass. We had better head back to the capital and see if we can intercede between the Princess and the Dark Lord before it is too late.” Like a well trained army, they packed up their strange rations and marched hastily back the way they had come, hoping they would not arrive too late. Had the Princess known they intended to crash her wedding, she would have refused to proceed with the whole affair.

  By sunset, the bizarre little band had arrived in the capital city and lost themselves in the crowd. Gertrude felt like she was in the midst of the best fantasy convention she could imagine, never had she seen so many interesting and fantastic creatures, except that time she went to a midnight movie at the bargain cinema back home. Steve said thoughtfully, “we need a way to get into the wedding.”

  Gertrude grinned impishly and led the party to the great square where the festivities would be held the next morning. “What are you doing?” gasped the flummoxed unhero.

  She took a seat and motioned for the others to do the same saying, “we are getting our seats. There is an open invitation for the entire Kingdom to come so we might as well get good seats.”

  Steve was perplexed, “who would come so early only to secure a place at an event that will not occur for twelve hours or more?”

  Gertrude laughed, “you would not believe what people would do where I come from just t
o be first in line.” Steve did not look any less confused but he took his place and wearily waited for dawn.

  They roused from their uncomfortable doze when the early guests started seating themselves. A regal lady in her middle years seated herself next to the GA and stared in horror at Steve who sat on its other side, thinking he had done the unspeakable. He smiled sheepishly and continued to scan the area, looking for any sign of trouble. He need not have bothered, nothing exciting happened until the presentation of the bride when the cat dashed from his seat, grabbed the girl, and suddenly vanished. Steve muttered, “I knew we should have never trusted a cat.” He looked at the others, “come on, we have a magazine to deliver.”

  As if this made perfect sense, they followed him unquestioningly, but were stopped short as the King bellowed, “not so fast. You cannot leave until that girl is married.”

  Gertrude stared at the King, aghast, “why ever for? It is not as if I am a princess or anything nearly so interesting.”

  “But you are,” said the smiling Queen.

  Steve smacked his forehead, “of course! Why did I not think you would so hide the real princess? But are we not to rescue the poor girl?”

  The Queen’s answer calmed the quite worried frown that creased Gertrude’s brow, at least until she processed the meaning of the last bit, “certainly you must rescue the poor creature, but not before the Princess is properly married, thereafter she may do as it pleases her.”

  “Wait,” gasped Gertrude, “you mean I am the true princess Flufflebun and have to marry Prince what’s his name?”

  “Certainly not,” said the King, “what a ridiculous name for a royal personage!” Gertrude began to relax but the King had not finished, “your true name is Marguerite Johanna Eloise Penelope VIII.”

  Gertrude, er Marguerite grimaced, “much better, truly.”

  The Queen added, “and you may marry the man of your choosing, as long as he isn’t an enchanted tree or something.”

  Gertrude protested, “but I don’t know anyone well enough to marry them.”

  The Queen shook her head, “well, the longer you dither the more danger your adoptive sister will find herself in.”

  Gertrude sighed, “Steve?”

  The hero-wannabe gasped, “me? Seriously?”

  She smiled grimly, “you might be a lousy hero but you are a decent fellow and the only eligible guy I know in this bizarre land.”

  Steve shrugged and a hasty wedding followed with much rejoicing (and an even greater sigh of relief). The requisite fairy godmother appeared shortly after the nuptials to bless the couple with the usual gifts of graciousness, wisdom, and so forth. Once that ordeal was over, another fairy person made her approach to the couple. The King gasped, “you have not come to hex our poor child Moargoth, we did invite you to the wedding after all?”

  The rather wicked looking fairy laughed heartily, “certainly not, it was nice to finally be invited to such a function rather than having to crash the party and curse the poor dear. I have come to bestow my gifts on the happy couple, which are far more useful and interesting than those of my nicey-nice cousin.” It was at this point that they began to realize that maybe she was not entirely evil after all, but rather liked to dress in a Gothic style, which was just beginning to become trendy in that world. Everyone within hearing looked quite interested in this proposition, except the poor nice fairy who would have glowered were it in her nature, instead she vanished after a woeful look at all and sundry. “First,” said Moargoth, “if you are going to rescue that brainless bit of fluff, you will need some more intimidating allies.” She rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

  The imp finally reached the gigantesque proportions he entertained in his imagination, the rhinocerllama became a terrifying unicorn, but the GA was left unchanged as there is nothing more dangerous in the known or imagined universe, except perhaps a bad comedian, which is why Hamric found himself quite himself as well. To the new prince-by-marriage, she gave this hint, “you are quite right to pursue a certain evil mage in this matter, you already know he has a fondness for arcane magazines, but you must also know he tends to be a bit absentminded and very particular, you should be able to use this to your advantage. If you successfully complete this quest, you shall be a hero indeed and will be in desperate need of a more appropriate name. As for you princess, you might find this small yappy dog quite useful. If not, feed it to your gaseous friend.” Then she was gone.

  The party exchanged a wondering look, made their farewells to the royal parents, and swiftly departed. They were quite happy with the magnificent horses they were allowed to borrow from the royal stables, but had been firmly warned to bring them back with full stomachs and they were not to attempt any stunt riding, they were just to rescue the poor girl and come straight home. They even provided a fuzzy pink purse to carry the small, evil dog in.

  Gertrude asked of her new lord, “who exactly is this evil mage of yours and why did he kidnap my sister? I thought only He Whose Name is Tedious or whatever you call Him was interested in messing up her Happily Ever After.”

  Steve the Unglorious replied, “I now believe that He and the rather insignificant evil mage of my previous acquaintance are one and the same, much as you, my beloved, are truly a princess. Your true guise was hidden for reasons that at the time seemed sensible. What better way to hide your true identity as the Most Evil Mage in the World than by being a rather drab evil mage in a low rent part of the realm?” She shook her head in wonder, could this tale get any stranger? And as you full well know, it did simply because she thought it couldn’t. They rode on for several days, still grateful to the Benevolent Hat of Hamric for its sustaining but inglorious fare. They rode on for another round of several more days after that (feel free to insert tedious descriptors of the countryside here, it should fill several pages at the least). Finally they came to the foothills of the Dreadful Mountains, which were swathed in a Dark and Terrifying Forest where they met some old friends. The troop of nerds met this strange company with some hesitancy, trying to decide if this were a rival gang of geeks or perhaps an expedient way to level up, but finally deciding it must be some new plot twist introduced by a desperate GM to keep things interesting and was therefore not immediately hostile.

  “Whither goest thou?” came the curious lilting voice of the leader who seemed to be speaking in a bad Scottish accent.

  Steve frowned at the nerd leader in incomprehension. Gertrude giggled in a very unprincess like fashion and said politely, “we all love the good King’s English, but a more modern vernacular is an acceptable alternative.”

  Much relieved, as he knew little of that forgotten tongue, the lead nerd said, “where are you going and may we be of assistance?”

  Steve shook his head, “we are going to rescue a non-princess from a false feline.”

  “Sounds like a perfectly reasonable quest,” said he, “we are in. What are the rules?”

  Steve frowned again in confusion but Gertrude said, “rescuing the girl without getting ourselves killed or turned into trees are about the only ground rules.”

  “Drat,” said the nerd, “I had at least hoped that fire weapons were worth double points, but I suppose we had best do this your way.” Gertrude laughed aloud and Steve just scratched his head.

  The nerds introduced themselves to the flummoxed company of would-be heroes as a band of dwarves, elves, halflings, weredragons, and a vegan vampire. The gigantesque imp said to them in a whisper that shook the trees, “I know a not-so-good fairy that can help you with your identity issues. She did me worlds of good, finally convinced my body to be what my mind always knew I was.” They exchanged confused looks but nodded as if they knew exactly what the giant was babbling about; it was not wise to disagree with someone ten feet tall at the knees.

  They camped for the night outside the Dark and Terrible Forest and planned to make their way into its myster
ious depths at first light, which is the only time one ever dares such a thing (otherwise you keep bumping into trees in the dark and it is rather embarrassing). Morning came, the unicorn returned from his midnight scouting foray and told that the dark mage’s hut lay less than an hour’s journey into the wood and that the local troll union was on its yearly picnic in the Moldering Swamp so the way was relatively clear of enemies. They set forth into the Forest, wondering at the great difference between this place and the forest which had been their home. There was not a bunny in sight and the trees looked quite disagreeable. Even the squirrels were black and boasted large teeth and creepy red eyes. They trudged on without incident and came to an assiduously maintained dilapidated hovel, obviously the owner was very persnickety in the upkeep of his downtrodden abode. Steve smiled, particular about the details indeed; he had a plan and quickly recounted it to the others, who stared at him in incomprehension but each would do their part.

  He knocked boldly upon the door and it was answered by a stooped man with a trailing beard and half-moon spectacles. He blinked at the party standing about outside his door, not quite sure what to think. This certainly was no band of heroes so he need not immediately turn them into trees, unless of course they proved irksome, wanted donations for some noble cause, or were members of an obscure religion seeking converts. Steve pulled a stack of periodicals from beneath his tunic and said, “I have brought the magazines you ordered Master Mage, how will you be paying for them?”

  The mage blinked at him again, but finally understood and an eager smile lit his face, “of course, of course, I am really excited about that new alchemy spell in the latest issue, to think they discovered how to turn lead into apple butter!”

  “Quite useful I am sure,” quoth Steve, “that will be two pieces of gold, five pieces of silver, and seventeen pieces of tin.”

  The Mage nodded happily, disappearing into the house to retrieve his magical coin purse. He returned and said quite embarrassed, “I am so sorry, I do not seem to have exact change. Will you take three gold pieces instead? I am fresh out of tin!”

  Steve looked rather shocked, “sir, I could not! I must have exact change or I may be accused of price gouging or banditry! Certainly not. I must have exact change or I fear I will have to revoke your subscription and you’ll lose your complimentary frog itcher too!”

  “Oh!” said the Mage in some distress, “we certainly cannot have that! A frog itcher? I never knew I needed one, but it sounds too good a deal to pass up. Let me see?” He thought for a few moments and then his face brightened, “I know!” He said some very ominous sounding words and suddenly all the noble trees that bedecked his front yard suddenly stretched, yawned, and looked far more like a dozen flummoxed heroes than a lovely grove. “Don’t know what the Neighborhood Committee will say about that, but it may be my only hope of saving my subscription. Come lads, have you got any tin? If you can scrounge up seventeen pieces of tin I’ll give you your freedom in exchange.”

  The former trees all shared an excited grin and began turning out their pockets. They found the requisite number of coins and eagerly handed them to the wizard before dashing quickly off into the forest before he changed his mind. The wizard nearly glowed with excitement as he gave Steve his money and took his magazines and free gift. He flipped through the top issue and looked a bit disappointed that there was no mention of his latest exploit. He suddenly glared at the strange company about him, “how many people does it take to deliver a magazine? Who are you?”

  Steve smiled in grim amusement and said, “we are here to rescue the princess!”

  The mage smiled wickedly and said, “no, you are going to improve my landscaping before the neighbors complain.” But before he could work his vile magic, the GA engulfed him and he dared not breathe, lest he inhale the noxious fumes.

  “Very good,” said Steve as the magician started turning blue, “Hamric, you know what to do.” The comedian started his routine and the now purple magician looked like he might explode or faint. He could not utter foul incantations thanks to the GA and the bad jokes prevented him from concentrating and thus using his cunning to escape this snare. He was forced to stand there, helpless and purple, at the mercy of his captors. Long after this adventure, Hamric and the GA started their own evil mage capture business and made a very good living thereafter.

  Gertrude burst into the house, searching for her sister. What she found was an aviary with a hundred different birds in it, instinctively she knew one of these feather brains must be her sister, but which one? A smile grew on her face as she saw the magpie. She pulled the designer canine from its fuchsia handbag and launched it at the vain, chattering bird. The dog licked the bird, and suddenly it was Clarisse, simultaneously bemoaning her lack of stylish attire and rumpled hair and gushing over the small furry dog. Gertrude shook her head in wonder, handed her sister the pink fuzzy dog purse and a hairbrush. Clarisse stowed the dog in the handbag and began the laborious process of straightening her hair, which would take even longer than this entire adventure.

  Steve came into the house, smiled to see the lady restored, and asked Gertrude for seven pairs of ruby slippers. She stared at him in confusion, but remembering the magical virtue inherent in ruby slippers, she assisted her beloved in ransacking the house in search of the appropriate footwear. All they could find were red bowling shoes, but they would have to do. Steve looked at Clarisse and asked, “lady, is it your wish to remain here or would you return to your own wild and dangerous world?”

  Clarisse looked at him as if he were mad, “you think I would remain here a minute longer than I have to? Get me out of here!”

  He bowed, tossed her a pair of shoes, and ran out the door. Clarisse grimaced at the unstylish footwear but put them on, she was horrified to see the small herd of geeks doing likewise and nearly took them off again, but for a firm look from Gertrude. Nearly in tears, she complied. To think she would wear anything worn by geeks! Steve was just lacing another pair on the purplish wizard, who was willing to cooperate with anything as long as there was a hope he might draw breath in the next hour. Steve took Clarisse’s hand and led her over to where the geeks and the wizard waited. Gertrude handed Clarisse a bottle of hand sanitizer as she passed, knowing she might otherwise die after this was all over unless she could quickly disinfect herself of nerd germs. Steve gave her hand into that of the head geek and said quickly, “you know what to do. You will have little time once our friend the mage here recovers his breath, so make it quick!”

  They started to click their heels together and repeat the magic words while Hamric and the GA dove for cover, not wishing to accidentally find themselves in that horrific world from which the nerds had come and to which they would return. The mage started to incantate, but suddenly the whole company vanished, dog and all. Gertrude looked to her husband and asked, “was it wise to send that mage into my world?”

  Steve smiled, “he will have no magic there, only his absentminded pickiness will remain to him. What he will do with that, I know not, but he is canny enough to survive and will cause little harm to others, bereft as he is of his magic.”

  Steve was quite right, the mage settled in quite happily and quickly earned a doctorate of Arcane Theorization in Alternate Plane Physics and soon had tenure at a prestigious university. The nerds were quite delighted with their adventure and spent the next six months counting up and arguing over their experience points. Clarisse spent the same amount of time cleansing at the spa, undergoing a detoxifying diet, and complaining incessantly to her shrink, but she was quite smitten with the dog, after all, only the kiss of true love could break the vile mage’s spell. On the way home, the Giant asked of Steve, “what was my part in this whole crazy tale?”

  Steve shrugged, “comic relief.” The Giant smiled and Hamric wept, knowing that role could never more be his.

  Steve received a much more heroic name from the Fairy
Goth-mother (she originated the trend after all) and they all went to a Glitch concert to celebrate. So they all lived more or less, happily ever after, that is if you like dwarvish punk music, which would otherwise make for a rather miserable evening, but then, there is always tomorrow!

  On Heroes: A Foible

  Copyright 2014 Susan Skylark