Why I Can't Have Nice Kings

by Matthew Helbig

  “The Tickling Bandit! Thysla, Wolo, get out here!” the farmer called out. “They need to hear this, and then we need to tell the neighbors.”

  A man, who the farmer identified as Wolo, appeared shortly after from the fields, but after several more yells, Thysla never arrived. The farmer was unconcerned since, at four years old, Thysla was unlikely to be much help anyway.

  The farmer had taken Wolo on as an extra hand after his son had been killed in a recent bandit attack. Wolo had to be around thirty, with red hair, a mustache, and an eerily familiar build. I’d seen more difficult mysteries on Sesame Street. I could even see the corner of his blue sash sticking out beneath his shirt.

  “What do you want, boss?”

  “Hey, he has a red mustache,” Cat said. “That must be him.”

  “Subtle as always, Cat,” Jackal said. “You might as well have just told him to start running.”

  “Him, who?” Wolo said as Wolf circled behind him.

  “Where is our item that you stole?”

  “I didn’t take nothing. I swear.”

  “Look at his fingers,” Wolf said. “They’re all bent, and the ends point upwards.”

  “Just like my p—” Cat said.

  “Shut up, Cat!” Jackal and Wolf said in unison.

  Wolo said, “So, now you accuse me of a crime I didn’t commit and make fun of my fingers. You’re not that perverted gang who goes around tickling people until they pee, are you?”

  “I wasn’t making fun,” Wolf said. “What happened to your fingers?”

  “They got messed up in my lumberjacking days. I tried to slow down a tree that was going to fall on the little kid who was working with us. He was one of those dying kids whose last wish was to be a lumberjack. I told them it wasn’t safe for him to be out there. My fingers haven’t been able to bend much since, but it was worth it, saving the kid.”

  “Could you try to tickle me?” Jackal asked.

  “I can’t really bend my fingers,” Wolo said, “but I can try.” As I had suspected, the only reaction he got was a slight “Ow!” from Jackal.

  “So, it appears we owe you an apology,” Jackal said. “Someone is clearly trying to frame you.”

  “Or he has an accomplice,” Cat said. “I’ll bet it’s the little girl.”

  Jackal smacked him in the helmet. “Sorry. I thought it was time for the ‘secret handshake.’”

  Wolf examined the farmer’s splinted leg closely. “There’s no way he could have travelled that kind of distance with his leg like this. So, where is the little girl?”

  The farmer stared into the forest. “She must have wandered off. She’s always liked to be alone.”

  “Do you know where she usually goes?” Jackal asked.

  “Yeah, some old lean-to near the creek,” Wolo replied.

  “Show us the way. This is the closest thing to a lead we have now.”

  We followed Wolo through the forest, the crinkle of the pine needles giving the little girl ample warning of our approach. The farmer hobbled slowly behind us on his crutches. I had the distinct impression that we were walking into an ambush, but what sort of ambush, I had no idea. I assumed the girl was going to her accomplices. Perhaps this was my chance to finally display my heroism.

  “It should be coming up in about a minute,” Wolo said.

  Almost as if that had been a signal, the farmer and Mr. Plot Device fell like they’d been hit by knockout darts. There was no rustling from the trees near them to indicate where their attacker was. Seeing the tiny monkey doubled over like he was asleep was so adorable that I almost forgot I was in pretend danger.

  The rest of our group was in a near-panic. Wolo hunched into a ball—the classic defense maneuver of both the armadillo and me, but I performed my best superhero pose, right out in the open. There was no way they would dare hurt their star. Cat and Wolf drew their swords and assumed positions on either side of me.

  Jackal coolly bent over and checked our fallen comrades. “No puncture wounds or darts, but they seem to be unconscious and breathing normally. I see the same red mark under their armpits as Brodus had.”

  “Are you saying someone knocked them out from up close with no one seeing them?” Wolf asked.

  “That can’t be,” she said. “Thysla, are you out there?”

  A childlike cackle erupted, seemingly from all around us.

  “See, I was right,” Cat said. “Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t so smart.” Cat went down, again with no sound or movement from the trees.

  “We need to form up in a close circle,” Wolf said. “If we’re close enough together, whatever is out there won’t be able to get to us easily.”

  “Good idea,” Jackal replied.

  We were too slow. Jackal and Wolf went down before they could even move, but our opponent seemed to be ignoring Wolo, who was sitting off to the side. My heart was racing, even though my mind was saying that none of this was real.

  I cracked my knuckles for what I knew was coming. Surely her big, strong accomplices would emerge soon, so I could finally get one of my agreed-upon heroic scenes.

  “Come on out and face The One’s chosen champion and part-time prophet, you vile thugs,” I called.

  Thysla appeared about a couple of yards in front of me and frowned. “You’re a prophet?”

  “Yes. The One speaks to me, and he wants you and your thugs to leave us alone.” I took a half-step back, an involuntary reaction learned from years of being bullied by people smaller than I.

  “I’ll show you my thugs.” In less time than it takes to blink, she had charged forward and leapt with her index finger pointed at my right armpit. Again, my highly-tuned reflexes took over, and I tripped over the leg of the prostrate Cat. As I fell, my left leg stuck straight out while my right leg got caught on Cat. That caused my body to twist with my left arm flailing forward, hitting Thysla on the back of the head. We both hit the ground face-first, a position I was well practiced in.

  When I stood, I noticed that my small opponent appeared to be just as unconscious as everyone else.

  “All right, you evil bandits. I’ve taken down your tiny messenger. Now, it’s your turn.”

  Wolo peeked out like a turtle. “I’m not an evil bandit.”

  “I didn’t mean you, Wolo. It’s nearly impossible to engage in banditry when you curl up into a ball whenever there’s danger. Not that I have personal experience with that. I was referring to her accomplices.”

  “Oh. I don’t think she has any.”

  “Couldn’t be. She’s just a little kid.” I looked around at the forest and waited for the big hulking attackers I knew were hiding all around us. I thought I saw movement near one of the trees to Wolo’s right, but it turned out to be a sudden gust of wind.

  “I think you scared them off.”

  “Must have,” I said. “Come and help me tie her up before she wakes.”

  He popped up out of his ball. “D-D-Do you have any rope?”

  “Cat has some in his pack. Don’t ask what he usually uses it for.”

  Wolo hog-tied her like a cowboy. I was glad he was the one who tied her up, as I didn’t want to be arrested for child abuse. The tape will clearly show I hit her by accident.

  After a few minutes, we’d managed to rouse the rest of our group. While they were groggy, they appeared to be unharmed other than a few scrapes.

  “Great job, Harry,” Cat said. “You continue to impress me. I may have to appoint you as my new protégé.”

  Jackal patted me on the back. “Really well done, Harry.”

  The farmer crawled over to his crutches, and Wolf helped him stand.

  “Let me guess: you’re going to tell us that you didn’t know she was the Tickling Bandit?” Jackal said.

  “I found her on the Tangholds’ farm,” the farmer said. “Real tragedy. They was a young family. Didn’t know ’em well. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know they had a daughter till we found her.”

  “Hmmm. Interesting,�
� Jackal said.

  “All right, let’s wake the Bandit,” Wolf said. “We need some answers.” He poured the contents of his water bottle out on her and she started to wake.

  Once again, when you file your child abuse claims, I did not pour a water bottle over an unconscious child.

  “Stop, stop,” she said. “I’m awake already.”

  “Now, who are you really?” Wolf asked.

  “I’m Thysla Tangleholder. My parents died in a bandit attack.”

  Jackal looked at the farmer. “Didn’t you say it was the Tangholds who died?”

  “Yup. ’Twas the Tangholds, Bricheff and Neora.”

  “That’s what I said,” Thysla said. “Tanghold.”

  “No, you didn’t,” several people said in unison.

  “Fine. I’m the spirit of the last Tickle-Shen master, WayShun, who was also the first Tickling Bandit. While wandering as a spirit, I came across this poor girl who was dying alone in the forest. I inhabited her body to save her and gain vengeance against those who had slain me.”

  “But I didn’t find ya in the forest, Thysla,” the farmer said. “You was in a burnt-out home.”

  “And how does taking our item grant you vengeance against the people who killed you?” Jackal said. “Wolf was the only one of us who was even alive when the Tickling Bandit was around, and he was a child.”

  “Ahh . . . umm . . . crap. Okay, you got me, though the spirit thing is true. The spirit was my grandpa. Someone hired me to take your package.”

  “Who?”

  Thysla shook her head. “Thief’s code. I’m a professional, and I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “Back on topic,” Jackal said. “Where is the item you stole from us?”

  “Up his butt,” Thysla said, pointing at Cat.

  As expected, he bent over and stared between his legs. “I knew there was a reason I felt sore.”

  “By The One!” Wolf said. “It’s not up your butt. She’s just being a pain.”

  “Oh! You mean like when you said you can hear the ocean in my ears.”

  “I’m not convinced that I can’t, but you have the right idea.”

  Jackal gathered our group together. “How are we going to get her to tell us where it is? We can’t torture her, she’s just a little girl. A deadly little girl, but still a child.”

  “Why is everyone suddenly looking at me?” Cat said. “I agree, we can’t hit a kid.”

  “Oh, sorry. We assumed your utter lack of morals would extend to this.”

  “I would never hurt a child. I’ll have you know, I was a proud member of the Big Brother program in my village. My little brother, Jaxus, would never have learned how to be a man without my guidance. Who else would have taught him how to push girls he likes or beat up the local wuss, Sterlton Penwhicker?”

  “A fine role model, you are. Wait—isn’t Sterlton Penwhicker the leader of the rebel armies?”

  “And to think,” Cat said, “when I was beating him up all those years, I was performing my patriotic duty and I didn’t even know it.”

  “Didn’t he say something like, ‘Why is everyone being so mean to me? I’m going over to the rebels because they know how to appreciate their soldiers’?”

  “Ha! He did. He was even a weenie when he grew up.”

  “Hey!” Thysla said. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Jackal sighed. “Go ahead.”

  “I’ll show you where the item is if you let me go.”

  “Ya’re not welcome back at the farm,” the farmer said. “Ya little beast.”

  “Fine by me, gramps,” Thysla said. “You were only cover, anyway. I have a nice mansion back east.”

  “How do we know we can trust you if we let you loose?” Jackal said.

  “I’m a practitioner of Tickle-Shen. My word is my honor, and I give you my word that I will not attack you again.”

  Jackal motioned us back together. “What do you think? Can we trust her?”

  Mr. Plot Device gave several spastic hand signals to Cat. “Tickle-Shen is an ancient art,” he translated. “Its practitioners are known for their focus and honor. Her word is good enough for him.”

  “That was very eloquent, Mr. Plot Device. Can we replace Cat with the monkey?” Jackal turned to Thysla. “You have a deal, but we’re keeping you tied up until we have our package.”

  “I’ll carry her,” Cat said. “I wanna see if she’s ticklish. Bwa-ha-ha!”

  “Make him stop!” Thysla said.

  “This’ll teach you to knock me out. No one knocks me out but me!”

  The farmer hurried over to the girl. “I won’t let you do that to her. She’s just a child!”

  Apparently having learned a lesson from his adopted daughter, he tickled Cat until he dropped the girl. Thysla hit the ground hard, and I heard a popping noise from one of her joints. She grimaced in pain, but her now-dislocated shoulder allowed her to slide out of her bonds.

  “Ha! I’ll see you suckers later. My super toddler healing factor will heal that up in no time.” She sprang to her feet and sprinted off at an incredible pace.

  Absolutely No Werewolves

  The sun went down completely. With Thysla’s ultra-fast pace, we had little chance to catch her. Our only hope was that something would slow her down. In the dark of night, there was always a slim chance that she would bump into something or, at the very least, get lost.

  I was really hoping for a toy store in the middle of the woods. Don’t argue with me about how that would make no sense; nothing had made any sense at this point, anyway. Really, Santa Claus was just as likely to be behind the next tree as a knight.

  The evening of the next day, we came upon a sleepy village of about twenty buildings. Apparently, we had marched all the way back to the main road.

  “Do you think she went through here?” Cat said. “What should we do, Harry?”

  “No idea. I think The One is sleeping.”

  “She didn’t leave any trail,” Jackal said. “Might as well ask around. We have no other leads. Let’s split up into two groups. Harry, you’re with me. The rest of you, go to the tavern. People are always talkative there.”

  Cat saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We’re here for information, Cat,” Wolf said. “Don’t drink too much.”

  “I won’t drink anything. Mr. Plot Device is a recovering alcoholic, and I need to show solidarity.”

  Cat and Mr. Plot Device walked away laughing, their hands flickering in constant communication. Wolf shook his head and followed a good distance away.

  “Where to?” I said.

  Jackal turned away from Cat and started walking. “We need to find the local busybody or someone else who might have seen Thysla.”

  “There’s somebody. Let’s ask him.” I pointed to a man standing in the center of the square. I was in a hurry, so I ran toward him before she could answer.

  “Stop!” she called. “I think I saw him bite a dog a few minutes ago.”

  My mouth was open before I had fully registered his tattered clothes or the pungent mixture of filth and alcohol. “Excuse me, sir. Do you have time for a few questions?”

  He attempted to pee on my shoe. His accuracy was quite impressive, given that he still had his pants on, but I managed to dodge. He gave me a broad, stupid grin.

  “Myargh.” His tongue drooped out of his mouth.

  “He can’t help us, Harry. He’s clearly the town idiot.”

  His eyes widened at the sight of Jackal. Was that embarrassment I sensed? Clearly, at least part of his brain worked.

  “No,” I said. “He’s just a little too good at being an idiot. Now, if you could answer a question, fella, I’ll give you this shiny coin. Have you seen a small girl coming from the forest recently? I swear, I won’t tell any of the townspeople that you’re not an idiot. I also promise not to return fire.”

  Big strings of drool dribbled from his mouth. He was still peeing, too. I didn’t think it was humanly possible to
pee for that long. He had been going for over a minute.

  “The girl is around four years old, with blonde hair in braids, and can move at an incredible pace.”

  He stuck his right hand out, indicating a person of roughly Thysla’s height, as his eyes gave me a questioning look. All the while, he continued to drool and pee.

  “Yes, around that height.”

  He pointed toward the entrance of a building across the street.

  “Thanks,” I said. I pressed a silver dollar into his left hand, at which point he fell over. He had still been pointing his right hand out, and the act of holding his left out as well unbalanced him. His falling over did not, however, stop the stream of urine.

  “Let’s go, Harry,” Jackal whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to be rude and not help him up, but I also don’t want to get wet.”

  We ran across the street to the indicated building.

  The building had an old, worn sign with letters that were completely illegible. I thought the sign had a horse or a centaur on it. As I entered the building, I peered back, and the village idiot was still going, now surrounded by a large puddle of yellow.

  The building was dimly lit and a little dusty, though more from age than a lack of cleanliness, I decided. Most of the furnishings were well-maintained but worn. Knick-knacks covered the walls.

  Jackal immediately rang the bell on the counter to our right.

  A young, pimply-faced man ran in from a door in the back. “Can I help you?”

  “Have you seen a small blonde girl with braids recently?” Jackal asked.

  The young man’s eyes bugged out for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. “Naw, nobody like that. You’re the first customers I’ve had today.”

  “I said ‘recently,’ not today. I think you’re lying.”

  The boy immediately turned and ran through the back door.

  Jackal followed. “Why do they always run?”

  Caught off-guard, it took me a few seconds to process everything. Before I could run, the front door opened, and a well-dressed man entered.

  “Excuse me. I’d like to purchase a two-legged donkey.”

  “I’m not an employee, and I really need to get going. I’m chasing after the guy who works here.”