King Irving, half asleep, seemed unaware of their presence. He looked into the mirror and began plucking his eyelashes.
“Is it clear?” Maverick asked from below. “Can I continue with my dying words?”
“Shhhh! Not yet!” Roderick hissed.
The king batted his eyelashes a few times, then staggered sleepily back into his bedroom.
“Now?” asked Maverick.
“Okay, now. But hurry up!”
“I forgot what I was going to say.”
Roderick sighed with frustration. “These are your last words! Say something profound, for crying out loud!”
“Ummmm ... if you're going to stick your tongue in a woman's ear, make sure you have a Q-Tip handy.”
And then he died.
“What's a Q-Tip?” asked Roderick.
Rick shrugged. “Perhaps he saw into another world in those last seconds before he passed on?”
“Nah. The guy was just delirious. We're going to need you up here, Rick.”
With Roderick keeping his dagger pointed at them, Randall and Jack helped pull Rick up into the lavatory. “Interesting bedroom decor,” Rick said. “Almost creepy in a way.”
“Everyone be quiet,” said Roderick. “We're heading through that door,” he pointed to the door the king had gone through, “and then we're going to dispose of the tyrant. Let's go.”
Silently, they passed through the door and entered the king's bedroom. It was exquisitely furnished, with gold plating on everything from the bed frame to the royal slippers. There was a huge gold-plated chandelier in the shape of several gout-suffering mermaids hanging from the ceiling, just perfect for dropping on somebody's head if the situation got tense.
Jack glanced up at the chandelier. “That's probably the ugliest piece of decor I've ever seen in my life. But I guess everyone's entitled to their own lack of taste.”
King Irving lay in his bed, sleeping soundly, surrounded by a collection of stuffed animals that made Randall twitch with envy. Roderick went over to the window and held up his knife so that the moonbeam made the blade shine dramatically.
“Nice touch,” admitted Randall.
“Since Maverick's dead, I'll do the honors,” said Roderick, moving with great stealth toward the king's bed. He stopped right next to where the king lay sleeping, then slowly moved the blade toward his exposed throat.
“Ow!” Rick cried out, falling to the ground. “A splinter! I stepped on a splinter!”
“Quiet!” Roderick said. “You'll wake him up!”
Rick pulled off his shoe. “Look at it!” he said. “It's sticking right out of my little toe.” He gazed at Roderick soulfully. “I guess that's it for me. I lived a good life, haven't I?”
“Give me a break, you whiny little cross-section of bat guano!” said Roderick. “It's a lousy splinter!”
“Shock can be just as bad as the physical injuries,” Rick told him. “I know I didn't accomplish everything I wanted to during my stay on this world, yet I feel a certain satisfaction when I look back at what I have done.”
“Shut up!” shouted Roderick. “Just shut up! I haven't got time to listen to this! I'm trying to kill a king here!”
“I know it's none of my business,” said Jack, “but you might want to give some consideration to the current volume level of the discussion.”
A tear trickled down Rick's cheek. “Hold me, Roderick. I'm cold. So cold.”
“I'm in the middle of something!”
“Please, Roderick! It's my last request!”
Muttering surprisingly vulgar things under his breath, Roderick walked over to Rick and crouched down next to him. “Okay, okay, what do you want me to do?”
“I don't want to die with that thing in me,” Rick said. “Please, take it out. I can't stand the pain, please, just pull it out.”
Roderick reached over and plucked the splinter out of his toe. Rick began to breathe in huge, agonized gasps.
“Can I go kill the king now?” Roderick asked.
“I've always respected you,” said Rick. “In fact ... I think I may even have loved you. Purely platonic, but still impressive considering how rarely we sat down and really talked to one another.”
“Good. I love you too. Get on with it.”
“Won't you hug me?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, man! Do you understand the concept of ‘bad timing?'”
“Just one hug ... then I can die in peace.”
“Go on, give the poor guy a hug,” Jack urged.
The king let out a snore, then rolled over in bed.
“All right,” said Roderick. “One hug. Then whether you're dead or not, I'm going to slit the tyrant's throat.” He lifted Rick to a sitting position, then gave him a tender hug.
“Thank you,” said Rick. “Now I'm at peace, and can die.”
“When?”
“Any day now.”
Roderick released the hug, dropping Rick on his back. His head struck the floor much harder than Roderick had intended. Randall quickly knelt down and checked for a heartbeat.
“Nice move,” he said.
“Is he dead?”
“Close enough.”
Roderick stood up. “Forget it. He was a goober anyway. And now, the moment we've all been waiting for...”
“Stop!” ordered Randall, also standing up. He held Rick's dagger. “If you want to kill the king, you're going to have to go through me!”
“No, I won't. You're on the wrong side of the room.”
Randall hurriedly moved to a position in front of the king's bed.
“You cretin!” Roderick snarled.
“That really was pretty low,” Jack admitted.
“C'mon, Roderick, let's go for it,” said Randall, taunting him. “Think you've got what it takes? I'll have you know—I've beaten people in hand-to-hand dead squirrel combat before!”
Roderick slashed his own dagger through the air a few times, implying if Randall had been that air, he'd be all slashed up now. “You want to duel? Great, let's duel!”
“I'm ready whenever you are.”
“I'm ready right now.”
“Therefore, I'm ready right now as well.”
“So let's go!”
“Okay, let's go!”
Randall and Roderick lunged at each other. Stainless steel struck stainless steel with a sound like thunder.
“Ow, crud!” said Randall, dropping the knife and massaging his throbbing hand.
“Do you surrender?” Roderick asked, giving him a grin that failed to disguise the amount of pain he was in himself.
“Never!” said Jack. “He'll fight to the death!”
“So be it! Since I am an honorable man, I will allow you to retrieve your weapon before I slay you.”
“You're just saying that to give your hand time to de-numb.”
The king rolled over. “A little higher ... yeah, that's right...” he moaned in his sleep.
“What did he just say?” asked Jack.
“Sounds like he's having an interesting dream,” said Roderick. “I never get to have cool dreams like that. I always dream that I'm solving mathematical equations. It bites.”
“You guys want to call a truce so we can mess with his dream?” Jack asked. “Or ... hey, better yet, somebody get a glass of warm water to put his hand in!”
“The time for frivolity has passed,” said Roderick. “A few minutes ago, I would've short-sheeted his bed with a wink and a giggle, but we have entered darker times now.”
Jack lowered his head next to the king's ear. “Rain ... rivers ... waterfalls ... floods ... oceans ... leaky drain pipes...”
“You know,” said Randall, “you're carrying immaturity to a previously uncharted level.”
“C'mon, you can't tell me it hasn't been one of your lifelong fantasies to make royalty wet the bed.”
“Is it absolutely necessary that your mouth be open so frequently?” asked Randall.