How to Rescue a Dead Princess (27 page)

Randy uncrumpled the paper. The words, written in shaky handwriting, were so horrible to witness that Randy let out a cry. No. That couldn't be right. Not his own father! The characters on the page were kissing!

“That's right,” said Grandma, solemnly. “Your father writes girl books!”

And then Randy screamed and screamed.

“YES,” SAID the Dark One. “Your father was a failed romance novelist. It became an obsession. It poisoned him inside. And now for another revelation...”

“Oh, I know this one,” said one of the guards. “I bet his father also ate slugs.”

Jack let out a whimper.

“Silence, you fool! Randall...
I'm
your father.”

“Daddy!” said Randall, stepping forward with open arms.

“Randall, no!” shouted Yvonne. “He's the bad guy!”

“Oh, yeah, that's right. And why should I believe anything I've been told?”

“Here is why,” said the Dark One, removing his mask. There was a collective shudder, and then various gagging and retching noises. And the Dark One stood, his face bare.

It was Sir Randall, no question about it. And he looked just like a slightly uglier version of his son.

“
Eeeewwww
!” said Yvonne. “Look at that chin—the cleft is crooked! And his nose is a little too wide ... his eyes are beady and too close together! It's grotesque!”

“Dad, how could you do this? You were such a big hero!”

“Listen to me, Son. I had finally got eight pages done on a book. Eight whole pages. Good ones! For the first time in my life, I was actually producing literature!”

“And then...?”

“And then I re-read them. And found it. An inconsistency. The lovers couldn't have met that night under a full moon, because the full moon wasn't until the following week according to the dates I'd already established! My book was worthless! I shredded it and ate the pieces, and vowed that one day I would bring this entire Generic Fantasy Land to its knees!”

“How tacky,” said Yvonne.

“And I shall succeed!” shouted the Dark One, raising his arms dramatically. “Guards, kill him!”

“Wait!” said Randall. “Don't do this! All of you—you've sided with the forces of evil! Look at him! Those dark clothes, the snarl in his voice—that man is evil incarnate! He's bad! If you work for the bad guy, well, that makes you all bad, too! And bad isn't as good as good! Otherwise bad would be good and good would be bad, and the world just doesn't work that way!”

“I think he's right!” said one of the guards.

“He sure is, but I wanna kill
somebody
!” said another.

“You mindless drones, I said kill him!” the Dark One roared.

“No!” said Randall. “I know how we can work this out!”

“How?”

“Two hundred years ago, there was another war between Good and Evil. After years and hundreds of bloody battles, the leaders finally came up with the proper way to settle their dispute. A game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Loser gets filled with arrows!”

The Dark One considered that. “Very well.” He held out a fist. “On three?”

Randall held out his own fist. “On three.”

Together: “One ... two...”

All eyes were upon their hands.

“Three!”

They made their selections.

Randall chose rock.

The Dark One chose paper.

There was a moment of deep, reflective silence.

“Rock bashes the hell out of paper!” Randall shouted.

“Huh? But I thought—” said the Dark One, as a hail of arrows sailed at him, puncturing his armor. He screamed in the agony of defeat and tumbled over the side of the pit, falling into the lava. The sizzle of his evil body being dissolved would linger in the memories of all present for lengths of time varying from twenty-three years to six seconds.

Evil had lost.

“So ... now what do we do?” asked Scrivener.

“As his loyal servant, I'd say you should jump in there after him,” said Randall.

“I've got a better idea. How about we all make the change in our hearts and become good! We will rebuild what we have destroyed! We will make this land more beautiful than it has ever been! We will create a brand new Generic Fantasy Land!”

“Nah,” said Randall. “Jump in.”

“We can do it!” said one of the guards. “I hereby devote myself to the pursuit of total goodness! And I pledge my loyalty to our new leader, the great Randall!”

“Hail! Hail!” shouted the other guards in unison. “All hail Randall the Great!”

“I thank you for this honor,” said Randall. “But I'm afraid I cannot lead you. You see—”

“I'll lead,” said Scrivener.

“Hail! Hail!” shouted the guards. “All hail Scrivener the Great! All hail our new leader! Hail! Hail! Hail!”

As it turned out, most of them lost interest in their new pursuit after only a couple weeks. But for a short while things were pretty good.

“ANSWER THAT, please,” said Grysh to Demon Baby as there came a tap, tap, tapping at the mausoleum door. “But first remove the silly antlers hat from the Sir William statue in case it's somebody dignified.”

Demon Baby removed the hat and quickly wiped off the beard and mustache he'd drawn on Sir William's face. When he opened the door, Randall and Shreddriff pushed past him and walked over to Grysh. Randall held a sword, and their expressions made it perfectly clear that they were not present for Happy Hour.

“You deceptive crone-woman!” said Randall. “There was never any Necklace of Power! But listen, I busted my keister to get a toenail from Jenstina and the berserker Shreddriff, as well as the crystal that was formerly in the Necklace of Powerfulness, so you better be able to undo the damage!”

Grysh snapped her fingers, and the crystal popped out of Randall's hand and flew into her own. “Ah, yes,” she said. “This will do just fine. There's just one minor little problem.”

“What's that?”

“I don't feel like it, being evil and all.”

“I see,” said Randall. “What if I said I'd located your one true love, Romeoo?”

“I'd say something like ‘Wow!’ Or perhaps ‘Gosh!'”

“I've learned a lot during my adventures, and when I went back to get the crystal, I learned probably the most interesting thing of all. Come on in,” Randall said, raising his voice to be heard outside the mausoleum. Scar entered.

“Who is this?”

“Grysh, meet Scarlet, formerly known as Romeoo.”

“I beg your &#@*!%$ pardon?”

“It's the truth,” said Scar, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I was angry at you, but I knew I could never be with another woman again. And so I visited the wizard Turville and had him transform me into one.”

“Turville?” said Grysh, incredulous. “The guy's a quack and a half!”

“That's what I found out! To make sure you would never recognize me if we should meet again, I had him perform plastic surgery on my face ... but he messed it up, leaving me with this horrible scar!”

“This is wonderful!” said Grysh. “I can revert you to your original looks and gender, then we can start all over! You still love me, don't you?”

Scar sighed. “Of course I still love you. But not as much. Because you're not the beautiful woman I once loved. You're more along the lines of a hag from hell.”

“I can change!” said Grysh, transforming into her beautiful state. “See? I'm gorgeous!”

“It's not your outer beauty I'm concerned with. It's the beauty that lies within that is important.”

Grysh tapped her stomach. “You won't see a more aesthetically pleasing gall bladder anywhere!”

“The gall bladder is a little higher up,” Scar said.

“Be that way, then!” Grysh screamed, letting loose with a bolt of lightning that was supposed to incinerate Scar but got Demon Baby instead. “I'll destroy you all! I'll destroy this entire forest!”

She raised her arms, and the walls and ceiling of the mausoleum exploded. Stone pieces flew off into the sky and out of sight, leaving nothing but the floor. Yvonne, Jack, Toby, and Bug looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Guess this blows our surprise entrance,” said Yvonne.

“Vandalism is nothing to be taken lightly,” remarked one of the graveyard zombies.

Suddenly all of the trees burst into flames, surrounding everyone with a raging inferno. “Burn!” Grysh shouted. “Burn to the ground and let nothing grow in your place!”

“Talkin’ to trees,” said Jack. “Somebody's gone looney.”

Grysh glared at Randall, her eyes glowing bright red with fury, or lack of sleep. “Now, you shall suffer an agony beyond that of even Steven of Jardins, whose pinky was slammed in the rusty metal gates of Hell Land not twenty, not thirty, but
six
times!”

“Stop this!” shouted Randall. “Having the mother of all cows isn't going to solve anything! If it's inner beauty that Scar is interested in, prove that you have it!”

Grysh snapped her fingers. A cute little bunny rabbit appeared in her hand. “See?” she said. “I'm not going to kill this rabbit!” The rabbit bit her on the finger, hard. “I'm still not killing it!” The rabbit dropped a series of bunny pellets on her. “How about this? I'll give it a merciful death! That shows inner beauty, right?”

“It would be better if you just let the rabbit go.”

Grysh set the rabbit down, and it scampered off into the woods, which were unfortunately still a raging inferno. “Was that good enough?”

Scar shook her head. “I'm sorry, Grysh, but it's over between us. No more kissy-wissies. No more snugglie-wugglies. No more spanky-wankies.”

“Unless, of course,” said Randall, a little annoyed, “you prove your inner beauty in such a way that Scar feels compelled to love you again, which was not anticipated as being that difficult, and which would be the whole reason he/she was brought here.
Right
, Scar?”

“Oh, that's right. Re-animate the torched rabbit and we'll talk.”

“No!” Randall exclaimed. “Not the rabbit! The princess!”

“What have you got against rabbits?” Scar asked.

“I don't have anything against rabbits!”

“Rabbits serve a useful ecological purpose, you know.”

“I know, but the princess is much more important!”

“The princess doesn't have a cute little twitching nose.”

“Very well,” said Grysh. “If I bring the rabbit back from the ashes and return it to life, will you be my eternal lover?”

“I will,” said Scar.

“No! No! No!” shouted Randall. “The princess! We need the princess back! There will always be rabbits! Rabbits are eternal! Princess Janice is not!”

“He has kind of a one-track-mind, doesn't he?” asked Grysh.

“I think he's pretty darn selfish, myself.”

“Selfish?” asked Randall. “Look, you hypocritical squirrel slayer—”

“They were dead when we found them!”

“Does that excuse your abuse of their tiny cute little dead squirrel bodies? I think not!”

“Ignore him!” said Grysh. “I will now return the bunny to life.” She snapped her fingers, and a bright glow came from the burning woods. The rabbit came running across the path, bouncing happily, and ran back into the inferno on the opposite side.

“Silly rabbit,” said Grysh.

“These tricks are for kids,” said Randall. “This is wimpy stuff. Darn it, this is a chance to prove your powers!”

“I was pretty impressed by the rabbit thing, myself,” said Jack.

Grysh looked at the crystal, thoughtfully. “I'll make you a deal. I'll return the knight to the flesh, but the princess stays ashy. Otherwise, what reason would you have to come back and visit?”

With that, she snapped her fingers, and the statue of Sir William transformed into the real-life version of the knight, which was more of a pinkish hue without quite as rocky an exterior. Sir William stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment, then proceeded to drop face-first onto the floor.

“He'll be okay once he recovers,” said Grysh. “Now if you'll excuse me, I must return my Loaf of Love back into a man.”

“I'm not leaving until you bring back the princess,” said Randall. “We had a deal.”

“Deals are made to be broken.”

“So are witches who fail to keep their word.”

“You're aware, of course, that with one small gesture I could disintegrate you.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“I wasn't,” said Jack, backing away.

Suddenly Randall grabbed Scar and pulled him/her toward him, pressing the tip of his sword against his/her back. “Make you a brand spanking new deal. Bring the princess back to life and your honey-pot won't get a sword through him/her.”

“But I can just bring him/her right back to life,” said Grysh. “Duuuuh.”

“Perhaps. But my guess is that he/she doesn't want to deal with the heartache of having his/her heart poked. And for you to let him/her die proves that you care more about your evil ways than you do about him/her.”

“Shut up and die,” said Grysh, throwing a bolt of lightning at Randall. Her aim was a bit off, and the bolt struck Scar, turning her into a pile of dust that got all over Randall's clothes. “Drat,” said the witch. “That's the sixth time I've done that today. No, wait, the seventh.”

Another bolt of lightning formed in her hand. “Say goodbye to your need for oxygen,” she said.

“You don't want to do that!” Randall told her.

“Yes I do.”

“No, really, you don't. Because if you fry me, my ashes will get mixed up with Scar's, and then when you return us to the flesh the sexual identity problems will be even
more
complicated!”

The lightning bolt in her hand vanished. “You have a point. I hate that.”

“All right, time for yet another renegotiation. Bring the princess back to life...” he held his arm up to his mouth, “...and I won't lick up these ashes.”

Grysh glared at him. “Very well. You've won this round. I will return her to life, thus completing your quest. Give me the toenail. Berserker, I'm going to need you to stare slack-jawed at the floor for a moment. Where's the maiden breath?”

Yvonne stepped forward. “Where should I breathe?”

“Oh, just breathing in general is good enough. That's all the materials ... let's get started.” She used her impressive magical abilities to bring the Princess Janice ashes into a pile in front of her, then stared into the crystal. “Oh, great Crystal of Powerfulness, I bid thee ... unfry this woman and I won't ask for anything else for a while!”