Yvonne smiled reassuringly. “Honestly, Madame Taylor, if there were something bad going on here, do you really think we could hide it from you?”
“I guess not. I'd just hate to have my name so prominently displayed over a wicked place.”
“Of course. But thanks for stopping by. We're all better people for it.”
“I know I am,” said one of the men.
Madame Taylor started for the exit, then abruptly turned around and walked over to Randall. “So ... Yvonne has been teaching you to read, huh?”
Randall nodded.
“If that's true, then you won't mind reading a page from your book there, will you?”
“Of course not.” Randall looked down at the book and read. “Chapter Six: Flinging Your Brassiere At Clients Without Hitting Them In The Eye.”
“I knew it!” shouted Madame Taylor. “Smut! Filth! You people have pulled the black-webbed nylon over my eyes for the last time! This place is now closed! You're all fired!”
Heads hung, the employees and clients began to file out of the building. Yvonne burst into tears.
“I'm sorry,” said Randall. “I just read what was in front of me.”
“It's not your fault,” sniffled Yvonne. “But what am I going to do now? The other women can get hired at Madame Trixie's Hall of Ultra-Supreme Exotic Dancers, opening next week, but there's no job for a chaste hostess! I'm doomed!”
“Well,” said Randall. “This might not be the most thrilling option in the world, but you could join us in our quest.”
“You mean it?” asked Yvonne. “I've never been on a quest before. I'd be happy to join you.”
“Great!” said Randall. “We'd be happy to have you. Just promise me that as soon as we find one, you'll chew on a mint leaf.”
Chapter 18
Post-Chapter-Seventeen Letdown
THE DARK One sat upon his throne, thinking evil thoughts about cute little puppies eating cute little babies. There was so much hate within him that no fewer than a dozen therapists had happily taken their own lives after attempting to psychoanalyze him. His face was so repulsive that he kept it hidden behind a black iron mask, to be shown only to those hirelings who dared to fail him. It would be the last sight they saw, before their hearts stopped. He was that ugly.
“Scrivener,” he said to the hunchbacked dwarf cowering next to the throne, “gaze into your Sphere of Revelation and Other Neat Powers. I must know if my plan will succeed.”
“Yes, master,” said Scrivener, running his hand over the fingerprint-covered crystal ball. An image began to form. “Alas, master, I see defeat!”
“What?” thundered the Dark One. “Defeat from whom?”
“It is a man ... a man named ... Ralph! No, wait, the eels just got him. You're clear.”
“Good,” smiled the Dark One. “Then I shall rule this land with an iron fist!” He stood up and clenched his iron fist. He wore a suit of black armor, completely covered with terrifyingly sharp spikes. The Dark One went through a lot of furniture because of this suit.
There was a timid knock at the door on the other end of the throne room, then another dwarf, Wyrkham, entered, knees shaking. “Master? I'm afraid I bring bad news.”
“Then you're screwed,” the Dark One noted. “But give me the news anyway.”
“The attack this morning on Mosiman Kingdom failed. We tried our hardest, but they had lots and lots of really big sticks!”
The Dark One took a cruel and merciless step forward. “I am not pleased, servant.”
Wyrkham gulped. “Am I in trouble?”
“Let me put it to you this way: Yes.” He walked over to the whimpering dwarf and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I think it is time you saw my real face.”
“Oh, no, master! I beg you! Give me another chance!”
“I think not.” With his free hand, the Dark One removed the mask. “Feast your eyes! Glut your soul, upon my accursed ugliness!”
Wyrkham's eyes widened, and he staggered backward. It took several moments for him to verbalize his reaction. “Eeeewwwww...that is so nasty! I mean, the only word here is yuck! That sight is totally uncalled for! Putrid, putrid, putrid! Gag me with a spoon!”
“Leave me!” shouted the Dark One, replacing his mask. “Get out of my sight!”
Wyrkham hurriedly headed for the exit. “Jeez, no wonder you have so much trouble keeping concubines around!”
“Candid twerp,” muttered the Dark One. “But never mind. This is but a minor setback, for soon my army shall crush the feeble denizens of this land, and I shall rule! Muahahahahaha!”
“Yes,” said Scrivener. “Moo ha ha ha!”
“Your sadistic glee is forced, my servant. The very moment I have this land in my choking grip, I shall teach you to cackle like the demons writhing in their tormented ecstasy! I will rule supreme! Muahahahahahahahahaha!”
* * * *
RANDALL, YVONNE, Jack, and Bug moved at a casual pace through a vast meadow. They'd been walking most of the day in search of a town or kingdom where they could glean information about Jenstina or Shreddriff, but so far they'd had no luck. The countryside was beautiful, however.
“This countryside sucks,” proclaimed Jack. “Nothing but trees, flowers, ponds, and the occasional complacent fauna. What we need is a good volcano!”
“Haven't you had enough excitement?” asked Randall.
“You can never have enough excitement!”
“Bite your tongue,” said Yvonne. “Let's enjoy the peaceful moments while we can.”
“Ow!” winced Randall.
“Jack, I said bite your tongue.”
“Oh, sorry.”
They continued walking, as time trickled past like the crisp photosynthesized leaves falling from the trees to be decomposed in order to replenish the precious balance of nature's way. Jack and Bug moved up ahead, as their argument about shag carpets grew more and more heated.
“What are your dreams?” Yvonne asked Randall. “Where do you want to be ten years from now?”
“Ten years to the day, or just a decade in general?”
“It doesn't matter. I want to know where you hope to find yourself in the future.”
“Well, a major hope for my future is that I'm not dead, because that sort of reduces the number of possible accomplishments. And if at all possible I'd like for all four of my major limbs to be in fully-functioning order, and if I can avoid any serious brain damage, that would have to count as a definite plus as well.”
“Me, I want to fall in love. I want a lover who would climb the most treacherous cliff in the land just to get me the single strawberry growing there.”
Randall glanced over at the sufficiently treacherous cliff off in the distance, with a strawberry-shaped dot of red near the top. “I could go for a strawberry, too,” he remarked.
“So you'll do it for me?” asked Yvonne, thrilled. “I've never known a man who was willing to risk his life for me before! Well, there was Martin, but he was seriously injured in the process and can't pronounce his vowels anymore.”
“Well, I'd like to,” said Randall, “but we're kind of in the middle of an important quest.”
“What could be more important than the quest for love?”
“The quest for not getting savagely beaten and executed.”
“Randall, the princess will still be there when you get back. Ashes don't have a shelf life. But we're here now, and if we leave, some other hero could pick that strawberry for his own lover, and she'd probably be ungrateful and complain that it's covered with too many seeds.”
“Are we falling in love?” Randall asked.
“Yes, we are.”
“How did this happen? It seems like I had just asked you to chew a mint leaf, and now here we are all of a sudden making goo-goo eyes at each other in a meadow.”