As it stood there about to charge, the possible outcome of this situation passed through Charlie’s mind. Jousted by a statue would most definitely be an interesting way to go—one for the history books no doubt, and sure, it would be relatively painless. His last thought before the beast charged was that of a giant blue bunny skewered upon its dorsal fin. The image made him chuckle for a moment until he realized that if he did not leap from harm’s way the thought would be painfully realized.
Fate, it seemed, was on his side this day. Charlie dove aside just as the stone beast slid across the ground like a baseball player gliding into third. However, third base just happened to hover in midair over the moat. This fact was news to the dolphin, and it came screeching to a halt inches from going over. The ground beneath started to crumble under its weight. As it slipped, the dolphin dug its flippers into the ground in a vain attempt to hold on. With a few last great roars, the dolphin plummeted to into the moat.
Somewhere beneath the oceans of the distant future, a group of dolphins watched through a time-bending camera as their robot plummeted. Flippers banged against underwater desks. A single dolphin swam over to a computer and pulled up the robot’s schematics. It flicked the monitor with the back of its flipper in disgust and dragged the file to the recycle bin. The dolphin cracked its figurative knuckles and pulled open another file, starting from scratch.
Within a short amount of time, the dolphin had conceptualized Killer Dolphin Mark II. This time, rather than stone, he used a material one-tenth its weight, ten times as strong, and three hundred times as flexible. The dolphin hoped nobody would ask why he had not used this space age material in the first place. Next, he gave the robot a plethora of weaponry for its arsenal. Lastly, he gave it wings—which may make it more conspicuous, but at the same time, it would also make it more awesome with the ability to fly right out of those deep holes it falls into. The dolphin designer nodded at its creation.
Yes, these super intelligent dolphins actually run Acme Corporation from behind closed doors. Only a few select people even know of their existence. To make matters worse, they have been gunning for us for generations now, and anytime the fate of the human race had been in question, they were the reason. They were the architects of the Y2K bug. Even though they knew from the start it would not cause any problems, the dolphins had hoped that during the ensuing chaos the human race would destroy itself. 2012 is the continuation of that plan; though set into motion thousands of years ago, the dolphins are not concerned with concepts like space and time.
Back at the castle, everyone leaned over the moat, watching the dolphin tumble to the depths of the earth. This peering only reminded that they too would have to devise a way to cross. The last thing anyone wanted was to follow it down, where it would certainly want a rematch.
“How are we going to get across this?” Captain Rescue said with a high-pitched whine.
Freight, whose ears felt ironically assaulted, shoved the spandex clad lunatic and pointed at the drawbridge.
“Oh,” Captain Rescue started, “But how are we going to lower it?”
Freight shoved the man once again and pointed at the red switch next to the drawbridge, the one labeled, “Push to lower.”
“Convenient,” Captain Rescue said as he grabbed a lump of dirt tossed it at the switch. Somehow, his aim caused the clump to fly off to the right and smack Dr. Malevolent in the face. At first, Captain Rescue shielded himself from any retaliatory fire, but she was too dumbfounded for anger.
They considered, for a moment, the possibility of a fantastic energy field shielding the switch from any kind of earthborn projectiles. Hesitantly, Freight stuck the barrel of his shotgun out and swung it around in the air. He then turned to the others and shrugged. Charlie grabbed a nearby pebble and tossed it over towards the switch—it seemed unperturbed by any mysterious gravity well from the future. Finally, they decided that Captain Rescue was simply accidentally awesome.
Dr. Malevolent, who had previously proved herself quite coordinated with her skillful use of a side view mirror, picked another pebble from the ground and tossed it at the switch, hitting it dead center. Just when everyone’s hands were just about to meet in applause, the crashing drawbridge startled them. However, their shock paled in comparison to the shock felt by the lackey pancaked underneath it. They paused for a moment in silence for those slain upon these hallowed grounds, and then stepped onto the drawbridge.
After a short jog over the fourteenth century drawbridge, they came to an equally as ancient large wooden door.
“Should we knock?” Captain Rescued asked as he placed his knuckles to the door.
“What on earth… no we shouldn’t knock.” Dr. Malevolent retorted.
“Shouldn’t we let them know we’re here?”
Her jaw dropped, “Firstly, why on earth would you tell the evil corporation you’re coming to put an end to their zombie uprising. Secondly, I’m pretty sure they already know we’re here.”
“And how would they know that?”
“Let’s see. We destroyed a bunch of their super expensive laser turrets. Then we destroyed their scary guard dog stone dolphin. Lastly, I’m pretty sure that everyone in this county heard that drawbridge hit the ground. Oh, and not to mention there’s a camera right there looking at us.” She said pointing to the camera sticking out of the doorframe.
“I’m not convinced.”
“Of course you wouldn’t be convinced.”
Charlie finally put an end to their bickering by pushing the heavy door open with all the force he could muster. They peered inside just as a gust of wind rushed out.
Chapter 17: Something Wicked This Way Bounces
At first glance, the entrance to the fourteenth century castle felt very genuine, but upon closer inspection, they could tell something was amiss. A gaping chasm split this first room in half, and the only way to cross was the steel bridge that spanned it. Along its railings, small dolphins swam through the air, playfully shooting water from their blowholes. The dolphin overlords surely placed this fantastic illusion to lure innocent sailors to their doom. Even from this distance, the sirens had a hypnotizing effect.
To exemplify the dolphin motif further, tapestries hung from the walls depicting the animals doing everything from jousting to feasting to harlotry, all with dolphin flair. Aside from the wall hangings, this half of the room seemed devoid of anything helpful, and only proved how obsessed dolphins were with the past. A few torches hung from the walls, fakes lit through electricity. The dolphin overlords had little use for open flames. They were a fire hazard, after all. Across from the dolphin infused bridge, a vast hallway awaited them, and it was the only way out of this equally vast entryway. Sea blue curtains draped the darkened hallway’s frame and scrunched up dolphins hid within the folds. Telling how deep this rabbit hole went would have to be discovered first hand.
With the room digested, attention turned towards the steel bridge. After the encounter with the killer dolphin, the heroes approached it with utmost caution, unsure of what ridiculous dolphin dangers would spring out of the nothingness to crush their skulls. This hesitation had been rightly placed, for as soon as they stepped forward, a bounce resonated from down the hallway. Panic swept the heroes raced away from the bridge, hoping to send this unknown danger back from where it came.
They were sure that a bouncing dolphin would soon emerge from the hallway to barrage them with heat-seeking missiles. Another bounce and the frightened heroes stumbled backwards. Self-preservation kicked in and Captain went straight for the door, but his feet were a little slow to keep up and he tripped and slammed against it. He regained some semblance of composure, fought back his frazzled nerves, and wrapped his fingers around the handle, only to discover that it refused to open.
“The door’s locked!” Captain Rescue yelled. His exasperated cries echoed out as he pounded helplessly against the wood, boring gashes with his fingernails as he tried to claw his way out.
Bounce aft
er bounce resonated through the vast entryway and the more it repeated the less their frazzled nerves could take. One, however, remained forever stoic—Stubbs. When anything, living or dead, has seen and done the things Stubbs has in his short lifetime of a few hours, they know not fear. In fact, they know little at all. This ignorance of the world and its many dangers was undoubtedly the leading factor in Stubbs’ courage. He just did not know any better, and it is doubtful he would let a few errant bounces get to him anyway. Regardless, as everyone around him cracked, Stubbs started to feel rather left out. To fit in, he slapped his cheeks and let out the most unearthly screech imaginable, distorting space and time all around him. Once finished, Stubbs chased after his tongue, which had departed his mouth along with the scream.
One would think that Stubbs’ shriek would scare off even the meanest of bouncing dolphins, but the noise grew ever closer, and the repetition further degraded on their mental states. That was, if their mental states could degrade any further without their brains becoming inoperable. As the source bounced out of the hallway, they realized their mental states were as degraded as can be. It was a minotaur, a minotaur bouncing on a pogo stick, one a few sizes too small, and even so, it handled the stick like a pro.
Someone had crafted the pogo stick into a magnificent hot pink work of art. Lights on both sides moved up and down hypnotically, and a hoofed tip matched the hoofed rider. Not to mention the dolphin handlebars, squealing like the creatures with each squeeze. Even more magnificent than the pogo stick was the minotaur riding it. He wore only a simple pink loincloth, indicating that it, and whatever it concealed, was of the purest evil. Rippling muscles covered the beast’s body; he used a pogo stick only because his muscles made it difficult to walk. A finely braided beard billowed from its jutting chin, and the golden ring in his nose bounced up and down with each hop.
“You shall not pass!” The beast’s gruff voice bellowed as it positioned itself in the center of the bridge.
“Hold on a sec,” Captain Rescue said to the minotaur as he as the other heroes formed a tight circle.
“Why are we in a huddle?” Dr. Malevolent whispered.
“I dunno, it’s not every day you see a minotaur, may as well cherish it.” As everyone around Captain Rescue gave the hero weary looks, he turned from the huddle and asked the minotaur, “Why can’t we pass?”
“This is private property! You are trespassing!”
“Well, you are trying to bring civilization to its knees, so I think we have permission,” Charlie said to the bouncing beast.
“You shall not pass!” he repeated.
Captain Rescue approached and asked, “So, why the pogo stick?”
“I will go down in history as the pogo sticking minotaur. It will be my trademark.” At his words, Dr. Malevolent caressed her rod in its holster.
Captain Rescue shrugged and pulled a vial from his utility belt. He held it into the air and yelled, “I really don’t want to have to use this, but if you don’t get off the bridge, I’ll be forced to!”
The minotaur bounced silently for a few seconds, thinking the proposal over and then answered, “No.”
“Suit yourself,” Captain Rescue responded as he flung the vial into the air. It dramatically tumbled end over end until shattering against the bridge, spreading oil everywhere. The minotaur tried its best to avoid the slick. However, regardless of its pogo prowess, he found himself unable to keep away from the slippery sludge. The moment the pogo stick’s tip touched the oil slick, the minotaur began to lose its balance, dangerously throwing itself back and forth across the bridge. The beast tried to maintain control, but quickly lost the battle and simply hopped over the edge into the gaping chasm. Captain Rescue turned to everyone else and flexed proudly.
“Never thought I’d say it, but good job,” Dr. Malevolent said patting him on the back. This approval caused him to smile brightly.
Celebrations of defeating the minotaur were cut short as a bounce echoed from the depths of the chasm. Their hearts skipped a beat. Then more bouncing, one after another, over and over. As they peered down, they could see the horned head of the minotaur traveling in and out of the darkness, getting closer each time. Apparently, the chasm was not deep as expected, but it was deep enough. After a series of bounces that seemed to last a lifetime, their anxiety lifted as the beast’s ascension concluded. It was stuck down there.
“Don’t think this is over!” a gruff voice yelled from the chasm.
Dr. Malevolent knelt at the edge and waved to the beast as it bounced in and out of view. Her comrades and she then faced their next insurmountable task: the oil coated bridge. Captain Rescue begged to slide across for the sake of fun. After much trial and error, they convinced him otherwise. Thus, in a single file line, they grabbed hold of the railing and began inching their way across, accompanied by holographic dolphins that mocked their progression, pretending to slip and bump their noggins. Charlie, in particular, could not help but to worry that the oil would permanently affix itself to his plush fur sabatons. However, considering the amount of gunk currently coating them, from dried blood to mud to other substances still unknown to man, the oil would fit in nicely.
As the last person crossed the bridge, the minotaur yelled, “I’ll be here when you get back!” The minotaur’s intimidating first impressions would imply that it’s only goal in life was to protect the castle it calls home. This was simply incorrect. The minotaur was actually a lonely creature that wished nothing more than to make friends with the castle’s newcomers, sit with them by the fire, and reminisce over times of yore. However, after being cooped up inside a medieval castle its entire life, the minotaur’s social skills were left somewhat wanting. The poor beast just did not know how to interact with people. Thus, as the heroes made their way across the bridge, tears welled in his eyes.
At precisely the same moment they stepped from the bridge to the cold stone tiles of the castle, a faint click echoed from somewhere nearby. Freight, who could smell trouble from a mile away, threw his arms to his sides, stopping the others, who looked at him with both curiosity and frustration that he had decided to make a spectacle of himself once again. Freight stuck his nose up and sniffed the air, trying to catch a whiff of the misfortune headed in their direction. The others did the same, but all they could smell was the musky stench of a fourteenth century castle.
Somewhere down the darkened hallway, the heroes could hear a gust of wind rushing in their direction. Then, an enormous tree trunk flew out from the darkness. Instinctively, everyone dropped to their knees and hugged the ground, save Captain Rescue. His instincts had taken the week off, due to boredom. He just stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face as the log sailed towards him.
For a brief moment, Dr. Malevolent considered allowing him to meet his fate, but in a fraction of a second, she decided against it—perhaps she wasn’t so malevolent after all. Her hand flew up from the ground and wrapped itself around the elastic of his underwear. She then yanked him to the ground, almost removing his pants all together. He smiled innocently as he watched the log whoosh past him, hoping he could go on this ride again soon. Dr. Malevolent decided that if she could not kill the man, she would at least punch him in the groin. As he cringed in pain, the weight of letting him survive eased.
The enormous trunk swung back and forth over the heroes’ heads until it finally came to a stop, exhausting its need to show off. They rose to their feet, half expecting something else to fly out from the depths of the castle to decapitate them. No such surprises awaited—for now. To make extra sure, they walked around and systematically stepped on the stone tiles beneath their feet, hoping to trigger any additional traps. At first, they believed this would give them ample preparation time against any of those dastardly booby-traps, but putting yourself intentionally in harm’s way seemed a rather risky thing to do. Either way, they concluded no more pressure plates remained to catch them off guard, and, for the moment, that they were safe. Continuing with their investi
gation, they checked the area just surrounding the hallway for any indiscriminate holes that could fire indiscriminate arrows through their indiscriminate necks. No such neck high holes appeared anywhere nearby, or holes of any height for that matter.
Therefore, without further ado, they stepped into the hallway. Almost immediately, a click emanated from underneath the stone, followed by the distinct sound of grinding metal. Then, from down the hallway, a rumbling like rolling rapids caught their ears. They looked nervously at each other and then backed out of the hallway together. As the rumbling grew closer, a thick sea of pink flooded into view. After a few more seconds, the composition of the pink sea became readily clear. An evil pink army of converted forest dwelling animals, from squirrels to foxes to raccoons, had come to say hello. A handful of the larger animals had war banners strapped to their backs. Upon each banner, a dolphin leapt through a flaming hoop with a pile of dead humans beneath it.
Charlie immediately grabbed hold of the log that recently tried to kill them all and swung onto it. The others followed suit—some not nearly as elegantly, specifically, Captain Rescue and Stubbs, each for their own unique reasons. Captain Rescue could not quite make the jump up to the log and Stubbs couldn’t do so without tearing his arms from their sockets—again. The others helped the two and then realized just how pressed for room they were atop this log. A couple had to double up, creating a most awkward yearbook photo. To keep the sea of evil pink animals from gnawing their feet off, the heroes grabbed hold of their knees and pulled their legs from the ground.
Not Everything Brainless is Dead Page 14