by Simon Hawke
But then again, some of you are thinking, "Hey, this is the good part. This is where we get to see all the hacking and slashing that we read high fantasy for. We've not only got brave dwarves and valiant elves and a fire-breathing dragon, but we've got medieval bikers with grenades and a handsome prince driving a tank! This is going to be really good!"
Well, now, your faithful narrator has a problem. If I try to please the group that wants to spare Queen Sandy and have the entire Army of Pitt simply surrender en masse, thereby achieving a nice, nonviolent ending to the story, the hack-and-slash freaks will be disappointed. And if I try to please the hack-and-slash freaks by having all sorts of mayhem break out on the field of battle, then the first group will be upset. And it really doesn't seem as if I can please everybody, does it?
Well, never fear. Remember, always trust your narrator. So far, all I've had is a couple of big guns blow up, causing superficial injuries to the gun crews, and the tank has fired at the feet of the cavalry, causing all sorts of consternation. True, the Wild Bunch has thrown a bunch of grenades, but I didn't say what kind of grenades they were, did I? I mean, they could be fragmentation grenades, or they could be just smoke grenades, designed to frighten the troops. So far, we haven't really had any serious violence, have we?
Well, all right, Black Jack did get shot between the eyes, but he was a real bastard and he was sexually harassing Pamela, as well as threatening her life, so no one will argue that he had it coming. And the elves did kill a bunch of mercenaries, but hey, they were mercenaries, and nobody really likes mercenaries very much. Well, except maybe those guys who read Soldier of Fortune, but you can't have a war without offending somebody. So, in the best traditions of interactive fantasy, here's what we'll do. You get to pick your own ending. All you hack-and-slash freaks just skip the next paragraph.
Now, for all you people who don't want to see Queen Sandy's noble gesture be in vain, imagine the Army of Pitt going into an absolute panic at all the fireworks and being struck dumb with terror by the fire-breathing dragon, the tank, the Wild Bunch, the coffee-drinking beatnik vampire elves and the rapping Rastafarian grunge dwarves, Shannon charging in with the cavalry, Mac coming up behind her with the foot soldiers, and Thorny attacking with his hedge, whereupon Lord Kelvin realizes it's an utterly hopeless situation, and in an effort to forestall wholesale slaughter, he has his troops throw down their arms and surrender. After that, Lord Kelvin and his officers meet with Brewster and Harlan and Shannon to negotiate a treaty that will benefit both kingdoms and it all ends more or less peacefully, with a minimum of bloodshed. Okay, now skip the next paragraph.
Now, for all you hack-and-slash freaks, imagine this: Lord Kelvin manages to rally his panic-stricken troops and launches a desperate counterattack. The cavalry regroups to face Shannon's charge from down the road to Brigand's Roost and a wild melee breaks out as the two units collide at full gallop, with steel ringing against steel and men shouting and horses neighing and all that stuff. The rapping Rastafarian grunge dwarves join up with Mac's infantry and they wade into Kelvin's left flank, swords flashing and spears thrusting and dwarven warhammers shattering human kneecaps. The Wild Bunch wreck havoc with their fragmentation grenades and then Rory swoops down over the panicked troops with Rachel on his back and roasts entire battalions to a crisp. A number of Lord Kelvin's soldiers, mostly the low-paid mercenaries, break and run for it, only to get impaled on the deadly thorns of the peregrine hedge. The coffee-drinking beatnik vampire elves let loose with volley after volley of arrows from their longbows, then charge in and start munching on the surviving troops, just like in Night of the Living Dead. Now, when the body count rises high enough to satisfy your bloodthirsty appetites, imagine the remains of Lord Kelvin's army-assuming there are any- throwing down their arms and surrendering.
Okay, so much for the big, climactic battle scene. At the end, there was a bad moment when the dwarves and elves almost went for one another, because they never did like each other very much, but fortunately, in the nick of time, Thorny maneuvered his peregrine hedge between them and a nasty brawl was narrowly avoided. Arrangements were made to send Queen Sandy back to Pittsburgh with the survivors, with Harlan going along as a representative of Brigantium to arrange a final peace settlement and begin trade negotiations.
The revolution had taken place in Pittsburgh, meanwhile, and Sheriff Waylon and his deputies were all tarred and feathered and then thrown into prison awaiting execution, but Sandy would grant them clemency when she returned and sentence them to twenty years of community service, along with Gentlemanly Johnny and La Donna and the rest of The Stealers Guild. King Billy, upon being released by the Underground, would realize what a fool he'd been and what an incredible asset he had in his wife and from that moment on, they would rule together in a comonarchy, which basically meant that Sandy called the shots, and all the repressive edicts would be repealed and the citizens of Pitt would all rejoice.
All that remains now is the final, closing scene, where Brewster and Pamela, reunited once again, decide to remain in Brigantium and settle down. Harlan will make sure the time machine is dismantled, and since EnGulfCo doesn't have a working model, and only Pamela was capable of deciphering Brewster's notes, no one from our universe will ever again be able to journey to the land of the twenty-seven kingdoms, which means that old Warrick will-
Excuse me a minute, my phone is ringing.
"Hello?"
"Simon? This is Wayne Chang, from Warner Books."
"Oh, hi, Wayne. I was just finishing up the book. I was about to write the closing scenes and-"
"Good, that's what I was calling about. Look, Betsy wants to talk to you. Can you hold on a second? She's on another line."
"Sure. I'll hold."
"Simon? Betsy Mitchell."
"Hi, Betsy, what's up?"
"Look, I was just speaking with management and they want some changes in the book."
"Changes? What do mean, changes? I haven't even submitted it yet. I was just about to write the closing scenes and..."
"Never mind that. Just stop it where you are and send it in. We'll complete it in house."
"Huh? What are you talking about? You mean you just want me to cut it off right where it is, when it's almost done, and you're going to finish it?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Wait a minute, are you kidding me? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! There's not a single writer I know who's ever gotten a request like this!"
"There isn't a single writer I know who's ever written a book like this, either. Besides, it's not a request. This comes straight from upstairs, from the new management at the parent company."
"What parent company?"
"EnGulfCo International. They've just concluded a leveraged buy-out of Warner Communications and they're taking direct control of the publishing branch. I just got off the phone with their vice-president of acquisitions-"
"No! Don't tell me!"
"-a Mr. Warrick Morgannan, and he specifically instructed me to have you stop work immediately and submit the manuscript as is."
"Oh, no! Forget it! There's no way! We've got a contract!"
"And in case you've forgotten, there's an acceptability clause in that contract that gives us the right to edit the book, which means we can make any changes deemed necessary in order to make it publishable. Look, Simon, I know how you must feel and I'm really sorry about this, but there's nothing I can do. My hands are tied. And I have to tell you that if you rock the boat on this, it's probably going to jeopardize our next contract."
"No, no, noooo ... this can't be happening!"
"Listen, I know this stinks, but I'll try to make it up to you. I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but Mr. Morgannan told me we're going to get the contract to do a series of novelizations based on a new British TV program about an intergalactic starship that's a bar. It's one of those high concept things, Cheers in outer space. And they want you to write it."
"Aaaaarr
rrrrrrgghhhh!"
Epilogue
A Note from the Publisher
Literary satire has often been considered one of the most challenging of art forms, with a long and honorable tradition behind it. Some of the finest writers of our time have published satirical works, among them such diversely talented and influential authors as Robert Heinlein, Paddy Chayevsky, Gore Vidal, John Irving, and Hunter S. Thompson. Simon Hawke, while not even remotely in their league, has nevertheless been a popular and prolific author for close to twenty years, and Warner/Aspect has been proud to publish some of his most successful novels. It is, therefore, with deep regret that we must announce that Mr. Hawke, the author of this novel, has recently suffered a nervous breakdown and has been admitted to a private psychiatric facility for treatment.
Close friends and associates of Mr. Hawke have informed us that they have seen this coming for a long time now, as evidenced by his recent move to a secluded location in the Arizona desert and his erratic behavior on the relatively few occasions that he has recently been seen in public. For legal reasons, we will refrain from commenting on those occurrences, other than to say we understand the extreme stress that creative individuals are often subject to and that, as publishers, we try to sympathize and follow a policy of reasonable tolerance wherever and whenever possible. As such, we fully sympathize with Mr. Hawke, and with his friends and family, and hope for his eventual recovery. Warner/Aspect stands by its authors and we shall continue to consider Mr. Hawke a valuable talent, and hope to continue publishing his works, when and if he is able to start writing once again.
In the meantime, due to contractual obligations and production deadlines, we are publishing Mr. Hawke's current, unpolished manuscript as written, without any changes or revisions, in part to show the erratic and often fascinating inner workings of an undisciplined creative mind at work, with all its hebephrenic narrative asides and the uncontrolled flow of the novel's satirical devices, and in part to help defray the author's medical expenses.
In the process of experimenting with the new literary form he was creating, "Fantastic Metafiction," Mr. Hawke unfortunately laid the groundwork for his own mental breakdown, and while we commend his efforts to stretch the boundaries of literary convention, we feel that as regards the issue of liability in this matter, we must stress that Warner/Aspect does not in any way endorse, sanction, or recommend the practice of "Fantastic Metafiction," and we earnestly caution all our readers not to try this at home.
In closing, we would like to add that Mr. Hawke's family and friends have requested that we do not disclose the name of the private facility at which he is currently being treated, and they ask that in lieu of sympathy cards, letters, and donations, fans lend their support to struggling new authors by purchasing their books. Mr. Hawke's family and friends have also requested that we do not disclose their names, either. As the parent company of Warner Communications, we at EnGulfCo International join in extending all wishes of a speedy recovery to Mr. Hawke, so that the time may .someday come when we may, once again, "trust the Narrator."
Warrick Morgannan
Executive Vice-President
EnGulfCo International
London, England
The executive secretary finished reading back the dictation and looked up at her boss. "Was that correct, sir?"
Warrick leaned back in his chair and lit up an expensive cigar. "Yes, I think that will do quite nicely. Go ahead and send it off."
"Sir?"
"Yes, Emily, what is it?"
"Sir, I've read the manuscript, and I was just wondering ... well, you know he's named the villain of the story, the evil wizard, after you?"
"Yes, I believe Ms. Mitchell mentioned something about that."
"Well, sir, don't you think we should have that changed? Or at least make some sort of comment about it in the epilogue?"
Warrick smiled. "No, I don't really think that will be necessary. I think the readers will understand that Mr. Hawke was merely venting his spleen in frustration, a pointless little gesture of defiance against the new corporate management of his publishing company. Let it stand. Personally, I think it's rather amusing. After all, in a manner of speaking, the evil wizard does win in the end, doesn't he?" He winked at her.
Emily smiled. "Well, it's certainly the strangest book I've ever seen. And it was rather amusing, in places. It really is too bad about poor Mr. Hawke."
"Aye, 'tisn't it?" said Warrick with a smile.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
Warrick shook his head. "Never mind, Emily. It was nothing. Nothing at all."
About The Author
Simon Hawke became a full-time writer in 1978 and has sixty novels to his credit. He recieved a BA in Communications from Hofstra University and an MA in English from Western New Mexico University. He teaches writing through Pima College in Tucson, Arizona.
Hawke lives alone in a secluded Santa Fe-style home in the Sonoran desert about thirty-five miles west of Tucson, near Kitt Peak and the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation. He is a motorcyclist, and his other interests include history, metaphysics, gardening, and collecting fantasy art.