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

by John P. Logsdon

  “What was it?” Shrit said with wide eyes.

  “The best guess is that the sound of the dings caused a temporal split, revealing that Ononokin had more than just an Upperworld and an Underworld. There’s also a Middleworld.”

  Shrit sat straight up. “Get out of town.”

  “Mr. Spannerspan had run out of his house at the sound of the dinging. When he got to the machines, there was a sudden flash that knocked him on his back. When he looked up, he saw an enormous Gargoyle standing in between the tank and the catapult. The machines were still firing, covering the newcomer with paint.”

  “This is all made up,” Shrit said with a grunt “Everyone knows that Gargoyles aren’t real.”

  Gappy shrugged, half-nodding as most everyone also felt that the story was improbable. Still, it was an interesting tale, if nothing else.

  “Anyway, the story goes that Mr. Spannerspan looked at the Gargoyle, pointed, said, ‘Gargoyle,’ and then passed out. The Gargoyle looked at Mr. Spannerspan, pointed, said, ‘Gnome,’ and then passed out. This happened a few times until they finally came to terms with things.”

  “Then what?” Shrit asked, obviously allowing his skepticism to relax.

  “Then they talked for a while, after Mr. Spannerspan shut off the machines. It turned out that the people in the Middleworld thought the Upperworld and Underworld were just myths, too.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Shrit said, waving his hands. “You’re trying to tell me that there actually is a Middleworld?”

  “I have no idea,” Gappy replied. “I’m just telling you a Murphyfields story.”

  “Can’t be real,” Shrit said with a shake of his head. “If it was, why wouldn’t everyone know about it?”

  “Some people claim that’s due to a military cover up.”

  “Convenient way to claim something is real,” Shrit said with a laugh, “especially when there’s no proof.”

  “The arguments of proof are that Gargoyle statues can be seen on buildings in pretty much every city in the Underworld, and there are reportedly even some in the Upperworld.”

  Shrit’s eyes widened again. “Those are real?”

  “Of course not,” Gappy replied, giggling, “but they’re supposedly based on the pictures that Mr. Spannerspan took all those years ago.”

  “Oh, right.” Shrit looked sheepish. “So whatever happened to the Gargoyle?”

  “As to that, Mr. Spannerspan figured out how the rift opened in the first place, recreated it, and sent the guy back. Rumor has it that the Gargoyle asked for a few buckets of paint since he thought it looked amazing on his person. He was planning to start a business of painting other Gargoyles. Kind of a fashion trend, I suppose.”

  They sat in silence for the next few minutes. Gappy reached in and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box as Shrit downed a few slices of his Gargantuan Meat Devourers pie.

  “You do realize that this sounds impossible, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Gappy answered, “which is why it’s labeled as a Murphyfield, Shrit.”

  REPORTING IN

  Tootz had just finished meeting with her direct-reports. They were, of course, all idiots. None of their schedules was running on time, and most were over budget. She wasn’t worried about that because she would pass the cost along to the clients, but just once she’d like to have a project completed within a reasonable time frame.

  As she walked through the door to her office, her TalkyThingy rang.

  “Report?” she said as she took her chair and threw her notepad on the desk.

  “It’s getting cold and I’m itchy,” Scrumptious replied, sounding like his teeth were chattering. “I should have gone with the long pants. I’ve been up in this tree all day.”

  “I’m talking about Mr. Whirligig, Scrumptious. What’s going on with him?”

  “Oh, well, he’s been working on his flying machine. It’s coming together extremely fast.”

  “That Orc been helping him?”

  “No, he was working on the twisty handles. Has them ready for shipping, from what I can tell.”

  “You’re kidding me,” she scoffed.

  “No, ma’am.”

  Unreal, she thought. If Gappy’s shop was able to turn out product that quickly, he’d put her out of business within a month.

  “Where are they now?” she asked.

  “They’re in a box waiting to be shipped.”

  “Not the twisty handles, you doughnut,” Tootz said tersely. “I’m talking about Mr. Whirligig and his pet Orc.”

  “Oh! They’re sitting in the barn, eating pizza, which is making me kind of hungry.”

  “Fine,” she said. “You can climb down from that tree and go back to my place and cook us some dinner. I’ll be home in about an hour.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the relieved voice of Scrumptious.

  Tootz hung up the phone and looked out over the crew of people she had doing their jobs. There was a time where Contraptions, LLC had been able to complete products at a decent rate, too. But that was also a time when she’d only dealt with one or two projects in her inventory. If Gappy had twenty contracts in the works, his schedules would be just as delayed as hers.

  Right?

  DISTRACTED

  Huido had taken Fingernails and Grumbles over to Ludlin’s Tailoring shop to talk to the shopkeeper about the new costs. He’d been thinking that maybe it would be in the best interests of both the Halfia and his customers if he offered different plans.

  The basic plan would run at 25% and would protect your stuff, but you’d be signing up for letting the henchmen kick you in the shins and call you names; the silver plan would run you 30% and would have all the features of the basic plan except that the henchmen would call you “sir” or “ma’am,” as the case may be, even as they called you names, sort of like a “you’re a bonehead, sir,” kind of thing; gold would bump you up to 35% and would remove the shin kicking; and the platinum plan would go for 40% and take out both the shin kicking and the name calling, and would even garner you an invitation to donate to the annual Halfia gala that Huido planned to start up next year.

  But, try as he might, he just couldn’t get himself enthused about anything. There was something nagging at him that would not let go, and he knew exactly what it was: Gappy Whirligig. That infernal Gnome had already gotten the better of him twice. Yeah, Fingernails and Grumbles had busted up the guy’s workshop, but that only made the Gnome think up a way to stop them from doing it again. Somehow, though, Huido would figure out how to get the guy. Until then, his heart just wasn’t into his job.

  “So you’ll be paying us every two weeks now, Ludlin, see?” he said half-heartedly to the shopkeeper, who was face down on the floor with Grumbles sitting on his back.

  “But that’s not fair,” Ludlin whined.

  “Had this same conversation with the barber. He thought it was unfair that we wasn’t paid more, too.”

  “No,” Ludlin replied, “it’s unfair that you are charging this much. Actually, it’s unfair that you’re charging anything at all.”

  “Want me to kick him in the leg, boss?” Fingernails asked hopefully.

  “Hmmm?” Huido said. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

  “Ouch,” Ludlin yelped a moment later.

  “Anyway, it’s every two weeks, got it?”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Ludlin said defiantly while trying to get up. He failed. “I’m not paying it.”

  “Want me shave his arm hair, boss?”

  “Why not?” Huido said.

  “It won’t matter,” Ludlin said. “I’m not paying any more.”

  Fingernails lowered the razor. “Maybe I should tickle his feet, boss?”

  Huido shrugged. “I guess so.”

  Ludlin struggled, but Fingernails had gotten his shoes off and was tickling his feet mercilessly. The shopkeeper laughed and tried to kick this way and that, but Grumbles had spun around and held the man’s legs in place.

 
; “Okay, okay,” Ludlin screeched. “I’ll pay! I’ll pay!”

  “Hey, that rhymed,” Fingernails said as he stopped the tickling.

  “Mummin’ fummin’ yep.”

  Huido sighed. “Okay, so I guess that’s that.”

  “Something wrong, boss?” Fingernails asked, getting back to his feet while Grumbles spun around but stayed firmly planted on Ludlin’s back.

  “It’s nothing,” Huido replied with a faraway look.

  “Come on, boss. You can tell me.”

  “It’s that damn Whirligig guy,” Huido admitted.

  “The guy from Barn Hunters?” asked Ludlin, who received his answer by way of a kick from Fingernails. “Ouch.”

  “He’s getting the better of me and I don’t like it. It’s like he’s smart or something. Moving his stuff upstairs like that.” He grunted and slammed his hand on the chair arm. “I do not like it.”

  “Mummin’ fummin’ ladder.”

  “Shut up, Grumbles,” Huido said tiredly.

  “Want me to kick him, boss?”

  “Mummin’ fummin’ dare ya.”

  Huido stood up and paced. “I gotta figure that guy out.”

  “Mummin’ fummin’ unbelievable.”

  “You’re saying he moved his equipment to the second floor?” asked Ludlin, which was followed up with, “ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why not just use a ladder?” the shopkeeper said, and then added, “ouch.”

  Huido stopped his pacing and got the look of a man who’d just won at a slot machine in Dakmenhem.

  “That’s pretty smart thinkin’, Ludlin,” he said, genuinely impressed.

  “Mummin’ fummin’ gotta be fummin’ kiddin’ me.”

  “Stow it, Grumbles,” Huido said, smacking the henchman on top of his head, “Ludlin is on to something here.” He started nodding quite vigorously as a smile crept over his face. “Good thinking, Ludlin. We’re gonna do just what you said.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” Ludlin replied humbly. “Ouch.”

  YOU GOTTA SEE THIS

  It was only a couple of hours into the day before Gappy felt that the Whirligig was ready to go. Shrit seemed to be excited for Gappy, but it was obvious that the Orc didn’t much care about the concept of flight.

  “Ever seen a bird fall from the sky, Gappy?” Shrit asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Take that idea and imagine a bird the size of an Orc.”

  “Are you saying that you’re afraid of flying, Shrit?”

  Shrit thought about that for a second. “No, I’m afraid of suddenly not flying.”

  “Right.” Gappy shook his head at the enormous Orc, thinking about how it was bad enough that he’d been afraid of the dark.

  “I don’t think I could fit in that thing anyway,” Shrit said apprehensively, “and I certainly don’t want to watch you crash either.”

  “Who is being the pessimist now?” asked Gappy with a chuckle.

  “I’d say realist.”

  “You’re no fun,” Gappy said, taking out his TalkyThingy. “I’ll call Tootz. She’d be excited to see this.”

  “No, wait,” Shrit said. “Look, I’m excited now.” He smiled big and pointed at pieces of the Whirligig. “See?”

  Gappy rolled his eyes. “Too late.”

  “Ugh.”

  THE CHASE

  Gappy sped down the road to pick up Tootz. It was nice knowing that there was another Gnome in town who shared his interest for inventions. Certainly there had to be other Gnomes about, too, but Gappy had not seen any.

  Up in the distance, he spotted a white truck heading towards him. As it got closer, he noticed that there were ladders on the top of it. As it passed on by, he saw that the truck was full of Halfia henchmen!

  Gappy slammed on the brakes and spun the wheely engine around as a loud screeching sounded. He put the pedal to the floor and zipped after the truck, catching up to it pretty quickly. Pulling alongside, he noticed that Fingernails was driving and Grumbles was in the passenger seat.

  “Hey,” Gappy called out to Grumbles. “Where are you going with those ladders?”

  “Mummin’ fummin’ what?”

  “Where are you going with those ladders?” Gappy yelled louder, fighting with the rushing wind.

  “Mummin’ fummin’ can’t fummin’ hear ya.”

  He pulled his wheely engine closer so that he could attempt to talk with Fingernails, seeing that he couldn’t quite understand Grumbles. Unfortunately, he pulled in a tad too close and clipped the side of the truck.

  “Mummin’ fummin’ uh oh.”

  The two vehicles bounced apart, Gappy’s spinning over to the shoulder on the right of the road and the Halfias flying off the left side of the road and down a hill. There was a lot of banging coupled with the sounds of yelling until finally it all came to an abrupt halt. Fortunately, there had been no explosions. Of course, those tended to only happen in the movies.

  “Oh no,” Gappy whispered as adrenaline rushed through his body.

  He carefully turned the wheely engine and slowly crossed the road.

  There was a mass of ladders, a rolled over truck, and a bunch of Dark Halflings pushing themselves off the ground in various locations. Even if they were planning to head over to his barn, he certainly didn’t want anyone seriously injured, or worse. He’d just wanted to stop them from doing what they were planning to do.

  Gappy snagged his TalkyThingy and put a call into 119.

  “One-one-nine,” the operator said. “Please hold.”

  “Hello?” Gappy replied. “This is an emergency.”

  “Please hold,” the operator repeated. Then, he heard her muffled voice as she said, “So as I was saying, Stella shows up at the party wearing the same dress I’m wearing. I know she did it on purpose, too, because she saw me buy it just the other day.”

  “Hello?” Gappy said loudly.

  “Please hold,” came an irritable reply, which was quickly replaced by the sound of music.

  “This town is unreal,” he said as Dark Halflings slowly spilled out of the truck.

  Pretty soon they were all milling about, looking dazed. They all seemed fine, though a few were limping.

  The music stopped. “What’s you’re emergency?”

  “Finally,” Gappy said hotly. “There’s been an accident. A truck and a bunch of Halflings have flown off the road.”

  “Where is the accident, ma’am?”

  “I’m not a ma’am,” Gappy replied.

  “My apologies, little girl,” the operator said. “Where’s the accident again?”

  “I’m a male, thank you very much.”

  “The location of the accident, please?”

  Gappy grunted. “Heading out of town to the barn district.”

  “Your name?” the operated asked.

  “My name?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, “I need your name as the person who reported the incident.”

  “It’s an anonymous report,” he replied, “and as I’ve already told you, I’m not a ma’am.”

  “Right, sorry, little girl. Your name, please?”

  “I am anonymous,” Gappy answered curtly.

  “I. M. Anonymous,” the operator said, as if writing something down. “Okay, emergency vehicles are on the way, ma’am.”

  “Gah,” Gappy said. “Fine, thank you, sir!”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  Gappy checked over the hill once more to make sure everyone was okay.

  The only thing he noted was that Grumbles was looking up at him with an angry stare. While Gappy was glad that nobody appeared to be direly injured, he also felt it served them right for what they were planning to do. No, he couldn’t say with precision that they were heading to his barn to again wreak havoc, but there was little doubt in his mind that it was exactly what they’d had in mind.

  He continued down the road and found himself whistling innocently as he turned in to the main city ent
rance. Emergency vehicles zoomed by him in the opposite direction. A couple of glances in his rear-view mirror set his mind at ease. Unless the Halfia ratted him out, Gappy was in the clear.

  Just as he pulled up in front of Contraptions, LLC, Tootz walked out of the building looking as stunning as ever.

  SORRY, WHO?

  Gappy was rambling on about the various pieces of the Whirligig and how it was set up as they zoomed along the road back to his barn.

  “And you expect it will fly on the first shot?” Tootz asked skeptically.

  “I hope so,” Gappy answered with a nod. “All of my calculations look to be correct. I’m a little worried about the aloofenator, but it should hold.”

  “This could be an exciting day, then.” Tootz leaned forward in her seat and pointed up the road. “Say, I wonder what’s going on up there?”

  Gappy stayed conspicuously silent as he slowed down the wheely engine before they got to the scene. The Dark Halflings were gingerly being loaded into the ambulances and there were police taking reports as well.

  One officer, a lanky Troll who was dressed smartly in his police uniform, stepped out on the road and held his hand up, signaling Gappy to stop.

  “Good day to you, sir,” the officer said.

  “Good day,” Gappy replied. “What happened?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine, sir,” the officer replied, glancing back at the Dark Halflings. “Most of these gentlemen are either too banged up to talk, too stubborn to talk, or are just downright incomprehensible.”

  Grumbles had turned around and was pointing at Gappy. “Mummin’ fummin’ that’s fummin’ him!”

  “See what I mean?” said the officer. “That one clearly has a concussion.”

  “Mummin’ fummin’ melroon,” Grumbles spat.

  “Anyway, sir, we were hoping you’d know of someone named I. M. Anonymous?”

  Gappy looked up at the officer and saw that the question was genuine. This caused him to blink a few times, which he feared may be deemed as suspicious, so he quickly wiped his eyes and squinted.