by Mark Nutter
“There’s Hrathvar the Dwarf, Harry the Troll, the Orc Brothers from Tlandia, a coven of witches from Llusanja,” the wizard pointed to each companion in turn, “Gundar the Warrior King, Perla the Warrior Princess, a dozen just plain warriors... “ the wizard scratched his beard, “a unicorn, talking birds, talking wolves, a deer who’s shy but could talk if she wanted to... “ the wizard craned his neck to see more of the group,”... a half-man half-bull, something that’s four-fifths man and one-fifth bull... and six elves name Valindra.”
The wizard glanced up at the sun. “I guess the others are late.”
“Others?” said Lora.
“Speak to your band. Inspire them.”
Lora faced the assembled horde.
“Thank you all for coming. Goodness, there’s a lot of you. I hope that by the end of our quest I will know each of you by name — but bear with me, I am better with faces and species than I am with names.”
“We are all named Valindra,” said the elves, “if that helps.”
“It does,” said Lora.
“Now go,” said Agarthius, “Obtain the things! Save Infinity World!”
And so the band embarked on their quest. Led by Hrathvar, they sang:
OH THE JOURNEY’S LONG
AH REE DEE DEE
AND THE LIST OF DANGERS WE MUST FACE
IS ALSO LONG
AH REE DEE DEE...
“So I’ll just push this wheelbarrow, shall I? Me, a twelve-year-old girl?” said Lora. “Maybe after a mile someone else can push it, like, I don’t know, a giant?...”
***
Lora and her companions endured many hardships on their journey to the Granite Castle. Tark, the Giant, eventually picked up the wheelbarrow and carried it with one hand, making Lora wonder why he hadn’t done so earlier.
Meanwhile in the Granite Castle, eleven shadows sat around a table.
“Our time has come,” said the shadow called the Leader. “The Ghostly Hollow Men shall have their revenge.”
“But My Lord, the Chosen One is coming,” said a shadow to the Leader’s right.
“She poses no threat,” said the Leader. “She and her band will surely perish in the Doomsday Swamp. Then all of Infinity World will know our fury.”
The shadows mumbled solemn assent.
“It’s unlikely they’ll survive,” said the Leader, “But if they do make it through the swamp...” he turned to the shadow at his right, “Have you prepared the other catastrophes?”
“I have, My Lord.”
“Repeat them back to me.”
“All of them?”
“Every one.”
Right-hand Shadow wrinkled his brow.
“Very well. We’ve got the Fog of Madness, the Night of Flaming Rain, the Ice Shroud, the Typhoon of Blood, the Scorpion Invasion, the Clouds of Endless Pain...”
The Leader drummed his shadow fingers impatiently on the table.
“Which Clouds of Endless Pain specifically?”
“Beg your pardon?” said Right-hand Shadow.
“Which Clouds of Endless Pain did you pick?”
Right-hand Shadow shrugged helplessly and said, “There were so many – “
The Leader, exasperated, said, “The Cumulus of Delusion? The Cirrus of Misery? The Cumulonimbus of Exquisite Torture? The Nimbostratus of Distress?...”
The Baby Shredder Song
I went to the patent office just the other day to get a patent for my new invention.
The lady behind the counter said, “What have you got?”
I said, “I’ve come up with a baby shredder.”
She said, “Do you mean you want to get a patent for a tiny version of a paper shredder?”
I said, “You’ve a misconception of exactly what my baby shredder does.
It shreds whole babies.
***
Today there’s a problem we can’t ignore
We see people victimized more and more
Identity theft can cost you lots of cash.
You must take precautions whatever you do.
You don’t want a criminal tailing you
And finding an unshredded baby in your trash.
***
I saw from her shocked expression this could take a while and would be harder than I first expected.
I said, “If you please, a moment to acquaint you with the many features of my baby shredder.
***
The slot on the top has been streamlined.
It’s three times as wide as the paper kind.
That was a fault of previous designs.
The baby solids get freeze-dried.
The baby fluids drip down the side through durable long-lasting copper lines.
You can shred up to four babies before emptying the bag.
Of this I’m sure.
You can shred up to six if they’re premature.”
***
The next thing I knew I was lying face down
on the street
my blueprints everywhere
I needed sixteen stitches.
I’m certain the guard who punched and kicked me never had invented anything in his pathetic lifetime.
My only regret is I never told the lady there my shredder also works on cats and puppies.
I thought that she seemed so nice at first but I wrong.
You just can’t reason with those closed-minded baby lovers.
To hear “The Baby Shredder Song,” go to www.marknutter.com
(While you’re there, you can join my mailing list. Thanks.)
About the Author
MARK NUTTER grew up in a motel near Joliet, Illinois, which is not as glamorous as it sounds. He’s written for television (Saturday Night Live, Third Rock from the Sun), movies (Almost Heroes), and theater (ReAnimator: The Musical, The Bicycle Men, ChristmasSmackdown). www.marknutter.com