While the Evil Queen and her brother the Warlock were trying to create an army to wage war on the Realm, the Prince, Percy and Sleeping Beauty had been joined by the peculiar Leprechaun who had an unhealthy fixation with rainbows and pots of gold. However, as they rode through the Realm, another topic was up for discussion.
“So did we settle on calling you Beauty?” asked Percy. “As the ‘Sleeping’ part is no longer relevant?”
“I am not sure I wish to be known as just ‘Beauty’,” she replied. “It is a bit vain isn’t it? I have more to me than just my looks.”
“Yes,” said the Prince. “And you might risk being confused with another Beauty in the Realm…”
“Sire,” Percy sighed. “I thought we agreed we would never mention her again?”
“Oh yes but Percy, I don’t think that is someone anybody would willingly want to be confused for!”
“Why?” asked their Beauty.
“Beauty and the Beast,” explained the Prince.
“Oh, I think I heard about that before I was put to sleep,” said Beauty. “Wasn’t there some woman in a castle being victimized by a sexually rampant beast who subjected her to all sorts of wicked and perverse acts?”
“Erm…” the Prince began before going red. “Well, you are half right.”
“There weren’t any depraved sex acts?”
“Oh no, plenty of them. But it was the Beauty who was the perpetrator.”
“My, my! I definitely don’t want to be confused with her in that case!” she remarked.
“So how would you like to be addressed?” asked Percy.
“To be sure to be sure.”
“Shut up Leprechaun!” cried the Prince tiresomely.
“Racist.”
“I’m not a racist!”
“Sire, we are getting off topic,” said Percy. “Beauty’s name?”
“Yes well,” said Beauty. “I don’t think Aroused Beauty sounds right.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Beautiful Beauty? To be sure to be sure…”
“That’s a stupid name Leprechaun!” snapped the Prince.
“Racist.”
“I think I will eventually come up with something,” said Beauty.
“Sugar Tits Beauty? To be sure to be sure.”
“Excuse me!” Beauty exclaimed.
“Sweet Ass Beauty?”
“How dare you?”
“Sweet Pussy Beauty? To be sure to be sure.”
“Oh sire,” said Percy. “I think I have remembered what it was about the Leprechaun that was strange. As well as being a fantasist he is prone to saying deeply inappropriate things.”
“Oh great! The gift that keeps giving!” groaned the Prince.
“Squirting Beauty? To be sure to be sure.”
“Shut up or I will kick you off Percy!” the Prince said fiercely before adding. “You cannot say things like that. Objectifying women in such a crude way!”
“Objectifying me?” asked Beauty. “Do I have a sweet ass?”
“Like a peach! To be sure, to be sure!”
“You very well might,” replied the Prince. “But it’s not the job of a complete stranger to remark upon it.”
“I agree,” she said after a moment of thought.
“Me too,” said Percy.
“To be sure, to be sure!”
“I swear! You’ll end up walking the rest of the way!”
“Always bullying the small guy! The poor impoverished Irish guy!”
“You’re just Irish?” asked the Beauty.
“To be sure, to be sure!”
“Why’d you ask?” inquired the Prince.
“I thought he might be a traveller?”
“A traveller? You racist! To be sure, to be sure!”
“Sorry,” she went pink.
“Why did you think that?” asked the Prince.
“He’s just a bit shifty looking,” she explained.
“Shifty?”
“I don’t trust the travellers,” she said.
“Why not?” Percy asked.
“They’re filthy thieves,” she shrugged. “They turned up at our castle and started asking if we wanted the grounds tending to. My father declined and so they hurriedly left without cleaning up the mess they had made, soiled nappies, empty cider bottles…”
“Always blame the travellers! To be sure, to be sure!”
To the east of where they were travelling, the Warlock and the Evil Queen were getting acquainted with their new arrival.
No, they had not had a baby. Seeing as they are brother and sister that would be a bit weird even for these tales. In fact, the Warlock had conjured up another creature and this time it was a tough looking man who the Evil Queen was rather taken by.
“Who are you?” she asked the stranger.
“My name is King Thrushbeard,” he replied with a stoic look in his eyes.
“A King?” she enthused before hurriedly checking her face in the mirror of her compact.
“Oh I see!” said the sprite in the Mirror. “He’s tickled you pink he has! Although I am sure you’d rather he tickled you somewhere else.”
“Shush! We’ve got company!”
“So this is your army is it? One bloke with a daft beard? You’d have been better off with the zombies!”
“Certainly not! They wanted to eat me!”
“You can’t be fussy at your age. You should take whatever you can get.”
“Be quiet!” the Evil Queen quickly checked her eyebrows and lips.
“I don’t know why you bother. This guy is clearly about fifty years younger than you! Although if you can conjure up more of his ilk you might very well have a decent army.”
“More of them?” That is a plan!”
“Of course you’d need more of them!” scorned the Mirror. “To invade Kingdoms!”
“Oh yes, that too…”
“You randy old…”
She slammed the compact shut before turning round to regard King Thrushbeard.
“Well then, you look like you might be quite handy?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Good with your hands.”
“What?”
“With your big sword,” she batted her eyelids. “Once you get it out of your sheath.”
“It’s not that big,” he reflected. “But very sharp.”
“Oh, is it now?”
“It’s taken out quite a few people in the past.”
“I bet it has. It looks extremely sturdy.”
“What am I doing here?” King Thrushbeard had grown bored with the conversation and changed the subject.
“You are here to help me,” said the Evil Queen.
“I am?” he gulped.
“You are here,” intervened the Warlock. “To lead an army to invade the Realm!”
“The entire Realm?” Thrushbeard seemed taken aback. “I am a decent enough warrior but where is the army?”
“Yes?” the Evil Queen shot the Warlock a stern look. “Where is the army?”
“I will get cracking,” he nodded.
“You see sire,” Percy said to the Prince as they stopped for dinner at an Inn and the two were alone together in the yard. “I now remember that the Leprechaun is renowned for being a letch.”
“Oh I see,” the Prince rolled his eyes before smiling. “Therefore, he’s a Letchechaun!”
“Very good sire, but I recall hearing that this is the reason why he doesn’t walk among his own kind. They find him intolerable!”
“So we’re lumbered with him?” exclaimed the Prince. “An odd little weirdo who bangs on about made up rainbows and offends any females he comes into contact with? You forget, if he remains with us, we will take him back to the palace where he will meet the Dirty Shepherdess and Red Riding Hood!”
“To be sure, to be sure!” remarked Percy.
“That’s not funny Percy!” the Prince said through gritted teeth.
“Sorry sire, force of habit.”
“What are we going to do with the little nuisance?”
“We could lose him sire?”
“What….dump him? Leave him behind in the morning?”
“Yes sire.”
“That’s a great idea…” the Prince suddenly tailed off. “But then the little sod will go about the Realm telling everybody lies about me…”
“That you’re a racist?”
“I’m not a racist!”
“You see I remember a few other things I heard about the Leprechaun,” nodded Percy. “Not only that he’s a fantasist and a letch, but he is also a massive liar. A sociopath it would appear.”
“He sounds lovely.”
“But he could say and claim things about you that might be extremely damaging.”
“Oh great! It would have been useful if you had remembered this before we took pity on him!”
“I am sorry sire.”
“Maybe we should just kill him in his sleep?”
“Sire?!”
“Accidentally on purpose stab him to death?”
“Sire!”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“Well yes sire,” Percy seemed a little awkward. “If he’s a traveller…well those people are all related to each other…”
“They are?”
“Yes sire! Like the royal family.”
“And?”
“The health amongst them is very poor. Because many of their marriages are consanguineous…”
“Consanguineous? What now?”
“Cousins and siblings marrying each other. It means they are genetically very weak.”
“Just like the royals,” nodded the Prince.
“So, do ‘t you see sire? We need not spill blood? We could smother him and claim he had a heart attack in the night?”
“Percy! How could you…”
“That’s okay sire, I realize you are under a great deal of pressure.”
“Yes, yes…I apologize.”
“That’s fine sire.”
“We could push him down the stairs in the Inn?”
“Sire! This new found racism is bad enough but murder?”
“I am not a racist!” protested the Prince. “And technically it would be manslaughter!”
“Really sire?”
“Or a mercy killing.”
“Sire, I insist we keep him with us and let him lose interest in being with us. My reading is that, as soon as things get tricky, he will be off.”
The Prince went to the bar of the Inn where he encountered Beauty and the Leprechaun. The Beauty rolled her eyes at him.
“Can’t this little creep keep his hands to himself?” she hissed.
“I am sorry,” shrugged the Prince. “I will have a word with him.”
He tapped the Leprechaun on the shoulder as he stood drinking a pint of stout at the bar.
“Top of the mornin’ to you!”
“It’s half five in the evening?”
“To be sure to be sure!”
“Listen Leprechaun, we need to have a little chat.”
“Need some building work done do you?”
“No!”
“For cash, our little secret, to be sure, to be sure.”
“No! My palace is…well….palatial!”
“Tarmac your drive?”
“No! You infuriating little man!”
“Little! Always having a go at the minorities!”
“I digress…”
“Yes?”
“You can’t go around groping women in public just because they take your fancy!”
“What about in private?”
“That neither!” cried the Prince.
“What about groping women who don’t take my fancy? Is that okay?”
“No! Don’t grope anyone!” the Prince was exasperated.
“Oh,” the Leprechaun nodded, seeming to understand before adding. “Why is that then?”
“Because it is wrong!”
“Is it? Why?”
“Because your advances are not welcome! Women don’t like being manhandled or fondled by you!”
“They don’t?”
“No!”
“My cousins never complained!”
“My word!”
“Or my sister!”
“Or me ma!”
“I give up…”
“Funny old world, to be sure to be sure.”
“So can you promise to stop doing it then?” the Prince eyed him sharply.
“Promise to stop doing what?”
“The groping! And, furthermore, the inappropriate remarks!”
“Groping who?”
“Beauty…for a start!”
“Oh, doesn’t she like it?” the Leprechaun seemed genuinely surprised.
“No!”
“Oh.”
“Now hang on!” the Prince realized something. “That doesn’t mean you are free to go round fondling other women. It’s not just Beauty who is off limits. Do you understand?”
“Are you saying I can’t grope anyone?”
“Not unless they give you consent!”
“What’s consent?”
“Unbelievable…” the Prince groaned.
“So then King Thrushbeard,” began the Evil Queen. “In your experience, who are the best soldiers in combat?”
“You want this army to invade the entire Realm?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Then it must be filled with Trolls, Ogres and Giants…”
“Giants?” the Evil Queen had a far-off misty eyed look in her eyes.
“Yes, that might sound risky but they’re essentially stupid and therefore easy to boss around. The same goes for Ogres. Oh, and Orcs, we need Orcs. Plus some Goblins will come in handy. They are small and agile and good with weapons like pistols and cannons.”
“I see!” she turned to her brother. “Well then, you heard, get on with conjuring these beings up!”
“That’s quite a crowd,” the Warlock said prior to murmuring to himself and waving his hands around.
About ten minutes later the Evil Queen had her hands on her hips and was mightily perplexed about what was stood in front of her.
“What do you think?” she asked King Thrushbeard.
“Well, it would be unconventional,” he nodded.
The creatures that the Warlock had conjured up included a griffin, a small group of female fairies, a resentful looking gremlin, an enraged looking man dressed as a soldier and the Dirty Shepherdess along with Red Riding Hood.
“There seem to be a lot of women here?” the Evil Queen remarked with a suspicious look at the Warlock.
“Bit sexist,” he replied.
“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “What use in battle will these fairies be for instance?”
“What is going on?” demanded the soldier who was in fact the Tin Soldier Man with his prosthetic tin leg.
“Well at least we have one soldier,” said King Thrushbeard. “Albeit an injured veteran! A cripple.”
“You call me that again and I’ll show you how good a soldier I am,” snarled the Tin Soldier between sips from a flask of Vodka.
“What is happening?” Red Riding Hood asked of nobody in particular.
“You are here to form my army!” replied the Evil Queen.
“I certainly am not!” insisted Red Riding Hood. “I’d rather die than fight for you, you creepy old hag!”
There was a long silence.
“What?” King Thrushbeard was puzzled.
“Go on then,” Red Riding Hood raised an eyebrow at the Evil Queen.
“What?” asked the Evil Queen.
“You know!”
“No! I don’t?”
“I say ‘I’d rather die than fight for you’ and you retort ‘well that can be arranged’…”
“Oh,” the Evil Queen frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“What sort of villain are you?” Red Riding Hood rolled her eyes at the Dirty Shepherdess. “That’s simple evil villain banter that is!”
“I am not fighting for anyone!” insisted the Tin Soldier Man.
“I believe your enemy might be my enemy,” the Evil Queen craftily smiled at him before producing a new bottle of Vodka which she approached him with.
“What do you mean?”
“The love of your life was the Paper Ballerina was she not?”
“Yes,” the Tin Soldier Man trembled.
“Who was murdered at the hands of Prince Charming and his little friends?”
“Yes.”
“It is he who we aim to defeat,” she told him with a wry smile.
“Then I must stand with you,” he said without hesitation.
“Good!” enthused King Thrushbeard. “Finally, a man of principle!”
“He might be but I’m not!” said the Dirty Shepherdess. “I’m hardly any use in combat whatever the cause is!”
“You might repel the enemy?” suggested the Evil Queen as a fly buzzed out from the hair of the Dirty Shepherdess.
“I’m natural!” she insisted. “Unlike you! How much foundation have you got on love?”
“There’s nothing wrong with taking care in the way I look,” sniffed the Evil Queen.
“Taking care? It looks like a twenty four hour round the clock operation?”
“It wouldn’t harm you to take the occasional bath!” the Evil Queen was scathing.
“I have my reasons,” explained the Dirty Shepherdess.
“Why haven’t we got any giants?” the Evil Queen asked the Warlock before hurriedly adding. “Or trolls or ogres?”
“It is a work in progress,” winced the Warlock.
“Well then, stupid one? Can you work with these creatures?” the Evil Queen asked King Thrushbeard despite everyone else in attendance turning to her in expectation.
“I might be able to whip them into shape,” he said.
“Pervert,” remarked the Dirty Shepherdess.
“Listen,” began Red Riding Hood. “The two of us are not fighting types so we will just be on our merry way and leave you to your odious scheme. Okay?”
“Goodbye,” added the Dirty Shepherdess and the pair of them began making their way from the group.
“Oh no!” cried the Evil Queen. “You think I’d let you get away and tell the Prince about our progress? Definitely not! You must think I am stupid!”
“Well, it was worth a try,” shrugged Red Riding Hood.
“Detain them!” the Evil Queen snarled.
Who she was addressing exactly was not clear because none of her guards or servants were present and all the others, including the fairies, King Thrushbeard, the Warlock, the Griffin, the Tin Soldier Man and the gremlin, either didn’t take orders from her or didn’t realize she would be giving them.
“Who are you telling that to?” inquired the Warlock.
“My army!” she retorted while indicating the others.
“I see,” said King Thrushbeard before clearing his throat and gathering the others altogether. “Now come on team, you may be wondering why you have been brought here today?”
“I did wonder,” said one of the fairies.
“Well let me explain,” King Thrushbeard said prior to giving the Evil Queen an uneasy look. “The Evil…do we really have to call you Evil?”
“Yes!”
“Can’t we give you a more friendly name? Something warmer? Something better for public relations?”
“No! I want people to fear me!” she insisted.
“Oh well, if you think it best,” he shrugged prior to continuing to address the small crowd. “Anyway team! You are now in the service of the esteemed Evil Queen and part of her royal army. I am your line manager so you report directly to myself as I lead you on the campaign across the Realm to invade every kingdom in it. Any questions?”
“Yes!” said the Griffin immediately. “I don’t want to fight! I am a pacifist!”
“Us too!” said the fairies.
“I’m not,” shrugged the Gremlin. “But I am not taking orders off anyone!”
“Only you could have come up with this insubordinate rabble!” the Evil Queen snapped at the Warlock. “Where are the trolls and the orcs?”
“I am sure you will get used to being soldiers,” King Thrushbeard added as the troop looked at him unimpressed.
“Is there anything stopping us from simply walking off?” asked Red Riding Hood.
“Well…err…” stammered King Thrushbeard before doing a quick head count of who was for and against. “No, probably not.”
“Then that is what we will do!”
The fairies gave a little cheer while the Griffin fluttered into the air.
“What about you?” King Thrushbeard regarded the Tin Soldier Man.
“I am in,” he said. “I’ve nothing else better to do and I want revenge.”
“That’s the spirit!”
“And,” the Tin Soldier Man suddenly brightened up. “Your Warlock fellow could restore my missing leg!”
“Perhaps…” King Thrushbeard looked at the Warlock and then the Evil Queen hopefully.
“Let’s not make promises we or he can’t keep,” muttered the Evil Queen. “I dread to think what he’d end up with. A third arm most probably.”
“Or a second…” King Thrushbeard stopped in mid-sentence.
“A second what?” asked the Evil Queen.
“Doesn’t matter,” he went pink.
“By the way, I have been meaning to ask,” the Evil Queen continued. “Why are you called ‘Thrushbeard’? It’s a peculiar name!”
“Long story…”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Go on, tell me!”
“Your Evilness, please can we move on with the job in hand!” King Thrushbeard stammered. “I need to plan tactics!”
“With my army?”
By this point everyone else had disappeared except for the Warlock and the Tin Soldier Man.
“Err yes…” King Thrushbeard regarded the Tin Soldier Man with a nervous air. “Now, my men!”
“Men?” frowned the Tin Soldier Man looking around.
“I hope you’re not including me in that!” exclaimed the Warlock. “I’m not fighting!”
“I would bloody well hope not!” cried the Evil Queen.
“No, I wasn’t!” explained King Thrushbeard. “Now, men!”
“Yes?” the Tin Soldier Man replied.
“I think we should invade the Kingdom to the north of here. Baron Hardup’s kingdom. The terrain will suit us as it is relatively flat with no rivers to cross. I would suggest we strike at night.”
“Yes, I realize the terrain is flat,” the Tin Soldier Man raised an eyebrow. “But the terrain is irrelevant.”
“Oh dear,” said the Evil Queen. “Dissention in the ranks.”
King Thrushbeard looked down at the Tin Soldier Man’s prosthetic tin leg.
“We might need reinforcements,” said the Tin Soldier Man. “If you want us to ‘strike at night’.”
“I think he might have a point,” King Thrushbeard said to the Evil Queen.
“Yes he does,” she in turn stared at the Warlock.
“Oh no, really?” he sighed. “I am exhausted. You wanted me to produce enough creatures for an army and I delivered didn’t I?”
“I think saying that you ‘delivered’ is a little optimistic!” she scowled at him prior to turning to King Thrushbeard. “Now come on! On with the military strategy!”
“Really?” King Thrushbeard groaned. “Okay, fine. So, then men!”
“Why are you shouting?” the Tin Soldier Man asked. “I am right in front of you.”
“Sorry…old habit. Now, we must prepare our weapons!”
He looked around the place as did the Tin Soldier Man.
“Err…” the latter said. “We don’t appear to have any weapons?”
“Well, yes, that could be problematic,” King Thrushbeard regarded the Evil Queen anxiously.
“They’re a work in progress,” she explained.
“I see well,” King Thrushbeard cleared his throat. “So then men! You are all highly trained killers! You can kill with your bare hands!”
“I can’t even walk properly,” interjected the Tin Soldier Man.
“Now come on soldier! This army does not discriminate!”
“Are you saying I am discriminating against myself?”
“Yes and I won’t tolerate it!”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I will have you court marshalled!” King Thrushbeard wagged a finger at him. “So watch your step!”
“I often have to depending on the ground as otherwise I’d fall over.”
“Now then! We march on Baron Hardup! Grab your gear! Oh…you don’t have any…well anyway! Let’s go!”
King Thrushbeard marched off, followed slowly by his army.
“Doesn’t it just stir the blood?” the Evil Queen said to the Warlock who was consulting his hip flask.
The Prince, Percy, Beauty and the Leprechaun set off the following morning from the Inn to continue their journey. They hadn’t got very far when they spied a creature circling in the sky above them.
“What the heck is that?” cried the Prince.
“To be sure, to be sure…”
“Shut up!”
“I’m not sure sire,” said Percy. “It looks like a cross between a bird and a beast?”
“I’d say,” began Beauty. “That it is a griffin!”
“A what?” asked the Prince.
“A Griffin,” nodded Beauty. “Very rare indeed. They are a hybrid of an eagle, a lion and a horse.”
“Should we be worried?” the Prince put his hand on his sword.
“Not really,” she replied. “They’re noble and powerful creatures but not known for being dangerous.”
The Griffin landed by them. It was an incredible creature with the head and wings of an eagle and back legs and tail of a lion.
“I’ve found you at last!” he said in a deep voice. “Prince Charming?”
“Yes?”
“My lord, I have been sent by your friend Red Riding Hood to warn you, and please brace yourself for a shock, but the Evil Queen is putting together an army with which to invade the Realm!”
“Oh, I knew that,” nodded the Prince. “She’s always up to something or other to invade the Realm.”
“Oh,” the Griffin seemed a bit disappointed. “Can I tell you something else?”
“She’s being helped by the Warlock?”
“Oh…you know?”
“Yes.”
“Hang on wait…one more!”
“Yes?”
The Griffin took a deep breath.
“The Realm isn’t flat!”
“I know.”
“Oh.”
“I am seeing the eagle and lion in him,” the Prince examined the Griffin in fascination before turning to Beauty. “And a bit of horse.”
“Horse?” she frowned prior to looking at the Griffin’s nether regions. “Oh yes, I see.”
“To be sure, to be sure…”
“I swear I am gonna…”
“It must be very lonely,” Beauty said of the Griffin. “They mate with one partner for life. For this creature to be alone it must have lost its mate.”
“Oh no,” the Griffin shook his head. “I play the field.”
“What? I thought you were betrothed to just one mate for life?”
“Most of us are,” he smiled. “But not me! Who wants to be tied down to the same bird all their life?”
“I see,” Beauty’s romantic notions came tumbling down.
“Do you mate only with griffins?” inquired the Prince.
“Most griffins do,” he nodded. “But I keep my options open. Horses, lions, eagles…”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“Donkeys, tigers, bears, falcons, hawks, buzzards, leopards, vultures…”
“That’s quite a broad church…”
“Turkeys, ostriches, jaguars, cheetahs, panthers, zebras, dragons…”
“Did Red Riding Hood have anything else to tell us?” the Prince interrupted him.
“Not really although we were all summoned by magic to the Evil Queen by the Warlock. The idea was for us to form her army but most of us refused and left.”
“I see and who remained?”
“This strange man with only one leg.”
“Only one man?” the Prince was puzzled.
“He was joined by her general,” said the Griffin. “A King called Thrushbeard.”
“His father knew your father sire, although he went by a different name.”
“Did that horse just speak?” exclaimed the Griffin. “How strange!”
“’Strange’?” replied Percy. “That’s coming from you?!”
“Hang on…” a thought occurred to the Prince. “This man with one leg…did he have a prosthetic leg instead? Made of tin.”
“Yes, he did.”
“The Tin Soldier Man sire?” Percy asked.
“I’ll bet he is.”
“But he doesn’t like us because Archie burned the Paper Ballerina to death.”
“Yes, I do remember that Percy.”
“Do you think he remained to be in the Evil Queen’s army because he is bearing a grudge?” wondered Percy.
“What do you think?”
“To be sure, to be sure!”
“I swear, one more time Leprechaun!” the Prince growled.
“Who is this peculiar fellow?” asked the Griffin.
“Don’t go round casting aspersions on others,” said Percy. “Glass houses and all that.”
“He’s a leprechaun,” explained the Prince. “For his sins.”
“Are you being a racist again?” asked the Leprechaun.
“I’m not a racist and don’t say things like that! We have company!”
“I didn’t know you were a racist my liege,” said the Griffin. “Prince Charming? Who would have thought it?”
“You see!” cried the Prince at the Leprechaun. “You go throwing round such words and it blackens my name.”
“’Blackens your name’?” asked the Leprechaun. “Interesting use of phrase…”
“Oh no! Don’t go there!”
“Why is he with you?” the Griffin asked. “I thought Leprechauns tended to stay together.”
“I think they usually do,” agreed the Prince. “But he’s the black sheep of the family…”
“’Black sheep’?” the Leprechaun said. “There he goes again. He just can’t help himself.”
The Evil Queen excitedly awaited the return of her army.
“I wonder how many prisoners they took?” she remarked to the Warlock. “We can, of course, make them fight for us and swell the coffers of my mighty army!”
At that moment a bedraggled looking King Thrushbeard and the Tin Soldier Man appeared from the undergrowth.
“Your Botoxness,” the King greeted her.
“Aha! You’re back! The jubilant General!”
“Yes…” he muttered.
“Tell me about the fortunes of war!”
“Ahem…well…things didn’t quite go according to plan Your Muttonness…”
“No?”
“No, you see we went to the castle as planned.”
“Right…”
“But there was one unexpected obstacle to us attacking it,” the King coughed.
“Their army outnumbered you?” suggested the Warlock.
“No, they had a moat and the drawbridge was up.”
“So?” asked the Evil Queen. “What happened next?”
“We asked them to lower the drawbridge but they refused. They then fired a few arrows at us and we fell in the moat trying to take cover.”
“My leg is rusting,” said the Tin Soldier Man bitterly.
“I decided that the men should make a tactical withdrawal,” concluded King Thrushbeard.
“He did,” nodded the Tin Soldier Man. “By pushing me in the moat”.
“I see,” the Evil Queen tried putting a brave face on it. “You can’t win them all.”
“Your patience is appreciated,” King Thrushbeard bowed.
“Seeing as you have let me down,” she continued. “You could at least tell me why you are called ‘Thrushbeard’?”
“Oh…” he sighed. “Really?”
“Surely the least you can do in your hour of abject failure?”
“It is because I have…” he stammered.
“A beard like the beak of a thrush?” she interrupted him.
“Thrush.”
“What? You have ‘thrush’?” she frowned. “You own a thrush?”
“No, I have…thrush…” he looked down at the ground.
“You have thrush? Where did you get it?”
“Snow White’s brothel…I think…”
“You dirty reprobate!” she cried. “And that bloody brothel has a lot to answer for!”
“I know…” he said gloomily.
“Hang on!” she pointed at him. “What’s the ‘beard’ part about?”
“The thrush,” he gulped. “It’s on my chin, among other places. I grew the beard thick to hide it.”
“To think what I was planning with you,” she looked at him in disgust.
To be contined…
Athon 