Tuesday, January 3, 2012

THE PRINCESS BRIBE by John H. Dromey

The Dark Knight stormed into the ancient castle brandishing his good looks. That was his intent, anyway. In his haste—and in full armor— he put his foot down a smidgeon harder than he should have. His metal-clad metacarpal bone and its two-hundred close companions made quite an impact. The knight was still about three paces shy of the entrance to the king’s stronghold when there was a prolonged ripping sound, followed by a loud splash.

Informed of the mishap, the king was almost apologetic. “Of all the wretched luck,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to have my steward replace that rotten board in the drawbridge.”

“What should we do for the knight?” a page asked.

“Alas, there’s nothing more that can be done for him, but perhaps we can do something for ourselves. Take a grappling hook and a winch and see if you can at least retrieve his armor before it has a chance to rust.”

“You told me to stay away from the serving wenches, sire.”

“So, I did. Get the cook to help you.”

Some considerable time later, the begrimed knight showed up in the royal chambers for his audience with the reigning monarch.

“You are, I presume, the Black Knight,” the king said. “You’re early.”

“No, my liege, I am the Dark Knight.”

“Unless my eyes deceive me, the ebony hue of your armor suggests otherwise.”

“I assure you, sire, I am he.”

“You’re late, then, or rather, you are the late Dark Knight, the shade of your former self, for surely you could not have survived a plunge in the moat. This is my first daylight encounter with a ghost.”

“I am still quick.”

“Are you suggesting that I am slow of wit?”

“I mean I’m alive. I managed to keep my head above water, or rather above the sludge which stained my armor.”

“Ah, yes. There’s a silt problem with the moat, but that’s not why I put out a call for champions. Rid my kingdom of the wicked dragon that threatens our eastern borders and I will give you my eldest daughter’s foot.”

“What about her hand?”

“Sorry. That’s already been spoken for by the White Knight.”

“Eccch! Supposing I were interested in your daughter’s foot, how is that even possible?”

“Alas and alack, her wedding plans are falling apart and so too is the princess,” the king said. “She’s a zombie.”

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