Comedic Fantasy Bundle #1: 4 Hilarious Adventures (Tales from the land of Ononokin)

by John P. Logsdon

  “Especially after seeing you in the nude,” Grubby replied with a wink.

  * * *

  “I are Kone,” Kone said to a man who was standing at the main gate of a rather large mansion.

  “He’s with me, Mr. White,” said Bledstone.

  The man, who was wearing a little white jacket and a pair of green shorts, said, “And he’s safe?”

  “As far as we know, sir.”

  Kone frowned, feeling hurt. “I are safe.”

  “And you’re an Ogre, eh?”

  “I are, yep.”

  “Never seen one of you in person, I have to admit. Rather large creatures, I see.”

  Kone wasn’t fond of being called a creature, but he let it go. There was no point in starting a fight, after all. Not that it would be much of a fight. The guy was just slightly taller than Grubby and a bit thinner.

  “Now,” said the man while holding his chin, “I remember once hearing that there were two distinct types of Ogres: mean ones and dumb ones. Which one are you?”

  “I not dumb,” said Kone, “but I not mean, too. I fink you got wrong infermation.”

  “Hmmm,” said the man. “Well, do you drink fine wine?”

  “Not really,” Kone answered. “It just taste like funny water that had a foot in it. I like milk, though. You got milk?”

  The man nodded. “I’m sure we do.”

  “Dat’s good.”

  “And you’re sure you’re not the mean type, right?”

  “I don’t like hurtin’ nobody, mister. Not on purpose anyway.”

  “Do Ogres lie?”

  “Not as far as you know, mister.”

  “Well, that’s true, I suppose.”

  Kone smiled, feeling smart as the man let him and Bledstone in through the gate and led them toward the sound of music and laughter.

  THE UPPERWORLD

  Bob had no idea what to expect the moment he saw the portal room at Lesang. The room itself was small with little adornment and there was only one guard who was sitting in a wooden chair at a wooden table. He was wearing a blue uniform that appeared to be covered with chainmail. His hair was long and dark, though the top looked somewhat matted. This was likely from having to wear the helmet that sat before him on the table.

  Standing up menacingly, the guard slid his hand toward a rather large broadsword that hung by his side.

  “Your names?” he said.

  “Bob Mermenhermen, and this is my daughter, uh…Perkder Stonepebble.”

  “Your daughter?” said the guard, doubtfully.

  “We’re from the Underworld,” Perkder offered.

  “Oh.” The guard looked appeased by that explanation. He smiled genuinely. “Well, then, I suppose that’s normal.”

  “If you say so,” said Bob.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you have papers?” asked the guard.

  “No, sir,” Perkder jumped in before Bob could speak. “We’re actually following a few thieves.”

  The guard’s head shot up. “Thieves?”

  “Three of them,” said Perkder, looking at Bob for assurance.

  Bob said, “A Human, a Dark Halfling, and an Ogre.”

  “Did they walk into a bar by any chance?” asked the guard with a hopeful smile.

  “Uh…” Bob said, taken off guard. “I wouldn’t know. We haven’t seen them since they left the Underworld.”

  “Hard to get any good jokes in these parts,” the guard replied, deflated. “Anyway, there was some activity up above a little while ago. A few unexpected arrivals came through, or so I’m told. They didn’t give me any details.”

  “We should go and—”

  “Now, hold on a second, there,” said the guard, again grabbing the handle of his sword. “We’re not supposed to let Underworlders up here without papers. I could lose my job for that.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” said Perkder. “I know what it’s like to lose a job you love.”

  “Never said I loved it, really, but—”

  “Can we maybe speak to your supervisor?” asked Bob. “That way it’s up to him and you’ll be off the hook.”

  “Good thinking for an Underworlder,” said the guard, removing his hand from the sword.

  Bob was pretty certain he should have been offended by that comment, but he decided to not worry about it, especially after all the atrocities and name-calling that he’d endured by simply being a Zombie.

  They walked up a set of stairs that took Bob a while to navigate. Perkder had explained that Bob was elderly and needed a little extra time. The guard said nothing as Bob finally crossed the top step and they went outside.

  The air was crisp and the sky was clear. Compared to the Underworld, where there was almost always smog, fog, rain, or cloud cover…at least in Dogda, this place was beautiful, even in the middle of the night.

  Bob looked out over the town in the distance and noted many large homes. It was tough to see any details simply through the light of the moon, but from what he could see this was a town full of wealthy people. Unless, of course, everyone in the Upperworld lived like this.

  Off in the distance Bob could make out a few properties that were lit up. From the top of the hill he could basically just see the glow, but with some of the lights circling this way and that, and a few of those lights changing colors throughout the full spectrum of a rainbow, Bob would guess that they were nightclubs or that there was a party going on.

  “Sir,” said the guard to another guard, “this guy and his, uh, daughter just came through the portal.”

  “Another set, eh?” said the older-looking guard. “Underworlders?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the guard.

  “Good job, Rathbone, I’ll take it from here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rathbone said with a quick salute before shuffling back toward the portal room.

  “Well,” said the older guard, “we’re just a landing station tonight for Underworlders, aren’t we? I got two of you in the clink and one is down at the party at the end of the road.”

  “Party?” said Perkder, stepping up.

  The guard looked down at him. “You’re a Dwarf.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lesangians don’t much like Dwarfs,” said the guard.

  “Why not?” said Perkder, looking hurt. “I’ve never done anything to them.”

  “Sir,” said Bob with as much volume as he could muster, “this particular Dwarf is not like his brethren. He’s happy.”

  “I don’t care if he’s Dopey, Sleepy, or Sneezy,” the guard retaliated, “he’s still a Dwarf and we ain’t supposed to let them through. And what about you? You look like a pimp.”

  “I am a…Zombie.”

  “A Zombie?” The guard backed away and brought his hand to his nose. “Did you say you were a Zombie?”

  Bob’s shoulders dropped, figuratively speaking. “Yes.”

  “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Bob answered.

  “But he could,” stated Perkder dramatically. “That’s why I’m with him.”

  “What?” said Bob and the guard simultaneously.

  “I’m here to keep him in check.”

  The guard kept his face covered. “Keep him in check?”

  “Of course,” said Perkder, giving Bob a wink. “Everyone knows that as long as there is a Dwarf around, a Zombie can’t bite anyone.”

  The guard squinted. “Is that true?”

  “Tell him, Bob,” said Perkder.

  “Sure,” said Bob, thinking maybe the whole hand-in-the-lava thing might not be so bad after all. “It’s true. I’ll behave as long as my Dwarf is with me.”

  “That’s a new one to me,” said the guard. “I’ll have to put that in the books. Typically, the people of Lesang want Underworld Dwarfs slapped into jail immediately, but they say that if any Zombies ever come up they should be allowed to roam free. Makes no sense, if you ask me. Seems dangero
us, it does. But they make the rules around these parts. I just enforce them. Anyway, we’ve never had a Zombie up here before, so if you say that Happy here will help you stay out of trouble, then that will have to do.”

  “Who’s Happy?” asked Perkder.

  “I thought you were?” answered the guard.

  “Well, I am happy, but I’m not Happy. My name is Perkder.”

  The guard shook his head as if trying to clear out some confusion. Finally, he just shrugged and said, “So you’re here looking for those other three?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Perkder.

  “The Ogre went down to the party a few hours ago. The other two are in the cells below. Which do you want to see?”

  “Ogre,” said Bob, recalling how the overgrown ape had taken his hand and placed it in a satchel that he’d been carrying.

  “Johnson,” the old guard shouted. A young-looking man ran out of the building. The old guard pointed. “These two are looking for the Ogre that came in earlier. Get Master Wizard Redler to adjust them accordingly and then take them down to Mr. White’s. You’ll find the Ogre there with Bledstone, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

  “Don’t screw it up, Johnson.”

  “Won’t, sir.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  PARTY TIME

  It had taken some time for Grubby’s “situation” to subside and even then Modacio couldn’t help but be in awe at the magnitude of the thing. She hadn’t been with a man in years, ever since she went on the run from the Thieves Union, so the visage hanging before her was more than tempting. On top of that, so to speak, she’d never been with any race other than Human. Her assumption was that Orcs and Ogres were hung like Grubby and that Dark Halflings, Dwarfs, and Gnomes were hung like crickets. She could only assume that Grubby was an anomaly.

  Either way, right now, horny or not, she had a job to do. She had to get the hell out of this cell, find Kone, get to Flaymtahk Island, and get those damn pills made. Then she’d be free and clear of the contract on her head, and then she could pursue a little something more interesting. Or, she thought, giving one more glance in Grubby’s direction, maybe a big something more interesting.

  With lightning speed, she rushed over to Grubby, picked him up, and pushed him between the bars. He grunted, shocked, but she’d already had his head and shoulders through before he could start to fight. That’s as far as she got before he started growing again.

  “Can’t you control that thing?” she asked.

  “Not when a nude woman is pressing herself against me, no. And thank you so much for getting me stuck between the bars like this. It’s not humiliating in the least.”

  “Think about business or something,” she suggested. “If that thing goes down you should be able to pull yourself through.”

  “I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Grubby was through the bars. It would have been sooner, but it turned out that thinking about money for the Dark Halfling was more of a turn-on than having Modacio’s nude body pressed against him. It wasn’t until she’d mentioned that if one of the guards came down and saw him in such a precarious position, things could go really wrong that he’d lost his happenstance in record time.

  Once their clothes were on they went about opening the cells for everyone else, in the hopes that with everyone making a break for it at the same time, they’d get free.

  That turned out to be unnecessary, though, since they all just walked casually out of a doorway on the same level.

  It led to a waterway just outside the building. A quick climb up a little hill and they were on the main road, heading down toward the end of the street where they could hear music.

  “Why are we going down here?” asked Grubby as the other prisoners all went their separate ways.

  “If I know Kone,” Modacio replied, “he’ll be there.”

  “Why?”

  “He loves dancing.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Sadly, I’m not.”

  * * *

  “That’s him, all right,” said Bob as they walked into through the gate with a little man who was wearing a white suit.

  “He’s quite the dancer,” said the man as Kone was lighting up the dance floor with a couple of Mr. White’s other guests. “He’s been shaking his booty all night. Quite the party animal, that one.” Mr. White chuckled softly. “Nice enough fellow, too. Friend of yours, you say?”

  “Sure,” said Bob.

  “Well, drinks are on the other side of the pool. There may not be much left since you’re getting here a little late. Most of the guests went home about an hour ago.” Mr. White then turned toward Perkder. “I do like your shoes, Mr. Stonepebble.”

  “Yeah? Me too. Very comfy.”

  The man smiled sweetly and walked away.

  “Mr. White is a good citizen,” said Guard Johnson as the little man was walking away. “Always helpful.”

  “Seems decent enough,” agreed Bob while keeping his eyes on Kone.

  “How do you want to handle this?” Perkder said to Bob.

  Bob didn’t answer. He merely walked across the dance floor, directly up to Kone, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Kone turned around and his eyes got really wide.

  “Hey, yer dat Zombie guy! You look like a pimp.”

  “Where’s my hand?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “My hand.”

  “I can’t hear you,” Kone replied. “Der music is too loud.”

  “Where’s his hand?” yelled Perkder.

  “Oh, dat.” Kone pointed to a table that sat near the flowerbed in the garden. “It’s in my satchel over der.”

  Bob turned and walked toward the table without saying another word, but Kone sped past him and snatched up the satchel before he could get to it.

  “What am you doin’?”

  “I want my hand back.”

  “What?”

  “He wants his hand back!”

  “You can’t just take it,” said Kone, looking affronted. “Dat’d be stealing.”

  Bob opened his mouth a few times, unsure how to respond to that. How was it stealing if it was his hand? Besides, they’d stolen it from him in the first place, right?

  “It’s my hand! I never gave it to you. You just took it.”

  By now the music had moved to a slow song and Bob’s voice carried loudly enough.

  “Dat’s not true. You was on dat ladder and you dropped your hand on dat street der. I picked it up and put it in my satchel. I even fanked you for it.”

  “Do you honestly think I would just give up my hand because you asked me for it?”

  Kone scratched his ear and then shrugged. “People give me stuff all der time. All yer gotta do is ask, I say.”

  Bob shook his head and grunted. It made sense, actually. When a 7-foot-tall, musclebound Ogre asks you for something, you tended to oblige. But not if he wants a body part!

  “Well, I didn’t want to give you my hand. I never wanted to give you my hand. It fell off because I’m a Zombie, and that kind of thing happens all the time.”

  “Oh,” Kone said, looking confused. “I didn’t know dat, mister. I fought you was being helpful.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Something we can help with here?” said Bledstone, motioning between himself and Johnson. “If there is thievery involved, after all, we are the law.”

  “This is Underworld business,” Bob said, keeping his eyes on Kone.

  “Stealing is stealing, regardless of where it is,” Bledstone pointed out. “We have a right to do our jobs, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Johnson jumped in, “we’re required to do our jobs and stuff.”

  “Too bad,” came the familiar voice of a woman.

  Everyone turned.

  Bob saw Perkder standing very still as the blade of a Dark Halfling was pressed against his neck. Beside Perkder stood Modacio and the man in the white suit. His predicament
wasn’t much better than Perkder’s.

  “Hi, Modacio,” said Kone with a gap-toothed smile. “Hi, Grubby.”

  “Quit saying our names, you moron!”

  “Don’t call me a moron, Grubby. Dat not nice.”

  “Grrr,” responded the Dark Halfling.

  “You do still have the Zombie’s hand, right?” Modacio said to Kone.

  He nodded, but said, “Got a problem, though. This guy said he weren’t meaning to give it to me.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” she stated. “You know that. We talked about it a number of times.”

  “But him not make a deal, he says.”

  She sighed. “You have the hand in your bag, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “He dropped it for you, right?”

  Kone pursed his lips and looked to be in thought. “Yep, him did.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” she said with a shrug.

  “Sorry, mister,” Kone said, looking at Bob. “She right. A deal’s a deal.”

  “But—”

  “Uh-hem,” the Dark Halfling said, motioning that Perkder was moments away from losing a fair amount of blood if Bob didn’t shut up.

  “Right,” Bob said, defeated. “A deal is a deal.”

  “Good,” said Modacio with a big smile. “Now that we have an understanding, I believe we’ll be on our way.” She turned toward the group of people that were all looking on in shock at what was happening. “If you all would be so kind as to sit over there, we’ll let ourselves out and nobody will get hurt.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” said Bledstone, holding up his hand, “but we can’t allow any illegal activity in this area. Besides, I believe that both you and your Dark Halfling friend here are supposed to be in jail.”

  “Yeah,” said Johnson, “in jail.”

  Bob felt concerned at the calmness that Modacio was showing.

  “Kone,” she said sweetly, “would you please engage your special skill?”

  “Which one?” asked Kone.

  “The memory one.”

  “All of dem?”

  “We can’t risk your technique on the Zombie, knowing how you feel about hurting people, and we know that the Dwarf’s head is too hard for you to work with. As for the rest of the people, I think they’ll be silent on their own for a good long time, yes?”