Michael S. Atkinson's Blog, page 45

Eulalie’s Dilemma

This story was written for Trifecta’s weekly prompt, and occurs in the Third Little Pig universe. I think Eulalie and Evinrude deserve each other.

Lady Eulalie was greatly distressed. The duke of her island colony had gone and married his son off to some random scullery maid instead of her, all because the scullery maid had gotten her foot into a shoe and Eulalie hadn’t. Now the scullery maid was a duchess, and Lady Eulalie was still only Lady Eulalie, all because of ill-fitting footwear! It would have been farcical, if it weren’t so tragic.

So Eulalie had set sail and ridden carriage and even (shudder) slept in common roadside inns, certain that Prince Evinrude would set things right when she reached him. But now, after all her trouble, the prince couldn’t be found. The Lord Chamberlain was quite apologetic, but he really had no idea where Evinrude was. The castle servants had looked everywhere with no luck.

“Well,” Eulalie said frostily, “they obviously weren’t looking hard enough. The prince must be somewhere. I see I shall have to look myself. And when I find him, I shall have words with him about the appalling inattentiveness of his staff! You may lose a button, or a handkerchief, or a spool of thread, but, Lord Chamberlain, you cannot lose a prince!”

She swept off in high outrage into the castle corridors. Some time later, when her wrath had cooled a bit, Eulalie realized that she had no idea into which corridor she had swept, nor how to get back. She was about to call for help when suddenly Evinrude himself came running into the hallway, a drawn sword in his hand. He hardly even noticed her; indeed, his eyes were fixed on the other end of the corridor. Eulalie followed his gaze.

“AYIEEEEEE! A GIANT SNAKE!” she shrieked, displaying an admirable grasp of the obvious. Eulalie suddenly wished she had stayed comfortably on her island, the shoe problem notwithstanding.

H is for Hippogriffs and Hippobears

Last time, in the Catrina Chronicles, Susan and her ally Doctor What had just succeeded in retrieving the Enchanted Stick of Uglification from Morgana LeFay, in return for which Princess Ermingard and Katrina had been turned into garden gnomes. From Morgana’s gates, Susan and the doctor had gone to an even darker place….

Doctor What had never been to the gates of Character Hell, but he’d heard and read a good deal about it. He had, after long research and several unfortunate incidents with guinea pigs now deceased, discovered the approximate location of the gates. He had not, however, gotten a recent picture. Thus he was terribly surprised when, once the blurring of the Time Lime’s space-bending ceased, bright sunlight spilled on his face, and a distinct sound of ocean waves rang in his ears. He found himself standing, next to Susan, on a pristine pearly beach.  He turned the other way, facing the land, and saw a tangle of jungle sweeping up to the slopes of a towering volcano. Doctor What wondered uneasily if the volcano were as extinct as it seemed. Despite their reputation in the supervillain community, one could never quite rely on a volcano to stay quiet. “Er, I must have entered the wrong coordinates,” he said, reaching for the Time Lime.

“Oh, no,” Susan said, “this is it. The Gate to Character Hell. What, you were expecting some sort of dark forest with wolves running about? Please. That sort of thing went out with Dante. We want people to get in, genius. It’s just that we don’t want them getting out again.”

She promptly led the way into the verdant greenery of the jungle, with friendly rainbow-colored birds flitting about her head. Doctor What followed anxiously, brushing away the birds and looking askance at every leaf and vine. “So unhygenic,” he muttered as he passed. “If only I had a bulldozer.”

An hour later, they arrived in a small valley that led straight up against the eastern slope of the volcano. In the black rock wall of the mountain was a cave, covered over by a sheet of green vines dotted with sweet-smelling flowers. Susan marched right through, and the doctor trailed behind, wiping his nose and mumbling about allergies.

The cave went on and on, until all trace of the sunlight outside had disappeared. Susan produced a flashlight and kept relentlessly going. Her fingers were beginning to quiver with anticipation. It had been so long since she’d reigned on the throne of Character Hell. Now, at last, she was coming back, baby! Her brown hair nearly stood on end with eagerness.  She’d even dressed the part: a black trench coat, sturdy black boots, a black shirt, and a black (of course) jean jumper with little silver skulls for buttons. This was going to be fun.

Finally, they reached it. The tunnel opened out abruptly into a wide landing of smooth rock. Before her, dimly lit by torches guttering on the walls around them, loomed a massive metal gate carved all over with really nasty looking script. A good deal of it was Latin, but there was also bits from other fictional languages, most of them evil.

Susan got a surprise then. She had expected to be alone, but out of the darkness there lurched suddenly a howling monster. Doctor What yelped in alarm, and clutched at his sweater-vest. Susan rolled her eyes. “You idiot. It’s only a hippogriff. Though why on earth it’s out here instead of inside I bloody well don’t know. No one’s supposed to bother you outside the door. Everything fun starts inside. Honestly, this whole place has gone to crap since I left. ” She didn’t quite catch the irony of complaining about the poor working conditions of Character Hell, and her companion was too occupied with the hippogriff to point it out for her.

“Er, shouldn’t we do something about it?” Doctor What asked, as the snarling monster, half eagle and half horse, snapped angrily at him. It had apparently been highly offended by their presence, and seemed on the verge of attack.

Susan sighed and produced her twin laser blasters. “Might as well. Though I do hate to waste a good monster.”

She was about to fire at the outraged hippogriff when she heard a sudden thud from behind her. Whirling about, Susan gaped. Before her loomed a creature, whose back paws and rear resembled that of a gigantic brown bear. The front of it, however, wasn’t a bear. It was a hippo. A huge, roaring hippo, its powerful teeth gleaming in the light of the torches. “Holy crap,” Susan said, even more unaware of the irony of using any expression starting with “holy” in her current location. “A hippobear!”

Doctor What did some rapid calculations and figured out she couldn’t possibly kill the two monsters before they ate her, and then him.  Then something gigantic and batlike whooshed over his head, nearly knocking him flat. A third creature landed before the gate, in between the first two. Its front half, in the form of a hippo, was easily as large as the hippobear. Its back half, however, wound away in great scary lengths of tail, and huge wings sprouted from it. Fire belched past its teeth. “Okay, this is getting stupid,” Susan said. “A drappo?”

“I think technically it’s a hippogon,” Doctor What pointed out.

“Whatever. I’m done with this.”  Susan stepped defiantly forward. “You twips probably don’t know me, but I am Susan, previous mistress of all Character Hell. I’ve come to give the old job a try again, and I will not be denied! You wanna eat someone? Eat him.” She gestured to Doctor What.

The three monsters turned towards him, and the drappo smiled viciously, its wings fluttering in fierce excitement. “Hey!” the doctor screeched. “This wasn’t part of the plan!”

Susan smiled, and pulled the Ugly Stick of Morgana LeFay from her pocket. “Well, it was part of my plan.”

The last thing Doctor What saw before the jaws of the hippobear crunched in on him was Susan stepping dramatically to the gate of Character Hell and thrusting the Ugly Stick into a large keyhole near its center. Sickly green light spilled from it, tracing through the lines of twisty script and illuminating Susan’s face in an eerie glow. Then, slowly, the gate began to rumble open. In the background, a hidden choir began to chant ominously in Latin. But as Doctor What had skipped over Latin in school, and as he was at that moment serving as a hippo-monster’s snack, he missed the drama entirely.

This has been another exciting episode of the Catrina Chronicles. For previous episodes, go here. For my Amazon author page where you can read other adventures of Catrina and her friends, go here. Thanks for reading!

Saturday Musings

The Council of Elrond scene in “The Fellowship of the Ring” book (not the movie) is one of my favorite literary moments. Incidentally, I don’t particularly care for the Jackson movie adaptations. To some extent, I’m a bit of a purist about those things. I just don’t envision Frodo as Elijah Wood, or Aragorn as Viggo Mortenson, or Legolas as Orlando Bloom. Definitely not Orlando Bloom. They cut out so much too: Glorfindel, and Tom Bombadil, and all the good songs. I realize some stuff had to be cut out, and as movies go it’s fairly well done, but still.

Needless to say, there will probably never be a Catrina Chronicles movie in real life, even if the remarkable chance comes that a producer would actually be interested. I couldn’t bear it. I have a picture of Catrina in my head; I know what she looks like, what she sounds like, what she thinks like. I wouldn’t want someone else trying to put on what they thought Catrina was. It wouldn’t be real. Same thing with any of my characters: Rain, Gaseous Girl, Captain Happily Married, even the Third Little Pig. I like them too much for Hollywood to get hold of them.

That being said, were Joss Whedon to be interested, I’d sign over the rights that minute. And if Jennifer Lawrence were to ask to play Catrina, I think I could manage to deal with my disillusionment about differing character portrayals. Somehow.

 

Farcical Aquatic Ceremony

This story was written for Trifecta’s weekend prompt. I may have been slightly inspired by a certain Monty Python sketch involving Dennis.

“Miriel! Your turn!”

“Right. What sword am I distributin’ this time?”

“Do Dragon’s Tooth, will you? It takes up space so.”

“Right.”

*splish*.

“Blasted pond. Next year I call stone.”

“I wanted stone…”

Conscientious

This story was written, just in time, for Trifecta’s weekly prompt, and is a continuation of my Third Little Pig story arc. Enjoy!

Prince Evinrude’s conscience was quite clear as he ran pell-mell down the corridor. It was perfectly ethical what he had done. He hadn’t abandoned the Third Little Pig to the tender mercies of the giant snake that had once been Aurora. No, he had merely conducted a strategic retreat, allowing him to summon assistance.

He knew exactly whom to ask: the redoubtable Woodsman Corps, slayer of wolves, snakes, and rogue giants alike. Was it his fault that Corps headquarters was some distance away, far too late for them to arrive in time to save the pig? Certainly not. Unfortunate, true,  but all too common these days. He’d be sure to organize a proper memorial, with a statue and everything.

He was just working out what he would say at the dedication when a tiny version of himself suddenly poofed into being on his shoulder. It wore a glowing white robe, and had a nearly microscopic halo shimmering around its head.  Its voice sounded awfully like his own, if somewhat squeakier. “Your argument’s a bit weak, you know,” it said. “You’re the prince, aren’t you? It’s your responsibility to go back there and help.”

“But,” Evinrude protested. “I’m the last surviving member of my house! If I die, my kingdom could fall into turmoil! There could be civil war!”

“You’re forgetting Princess Genevieve. She could take your place if necessary.”

“But Genevieve is…well…”

“A girl?” Evinrude’s shoulder angel replied archly.

“A tree, actually. She had that quarrel with the Dryad last year, remember?”

“Oh, right. Someone should work on that. Well, you’ve still got your magic sword, haven’t you?”

Evinrude had forgotten the sword. Some random lady in a pond had thrown it at him a while back. “Doesn’t it only work on dragons?”

“Snakes, dragons, same thing.”

The prince sighed, turned round, and drew his sword. “Why do you get me into these things?” he asked his conscience. His conscience only sniffed, and didn’t reply.

G is for Gnome Enthusiasts

Last time in the Catrina Chronicles, Susan and Doctor What had just captured Ermingard and Katrina, and were taking them off as part of their newest evil plan….

It was a dark and stormy night. This annoyed Susan to no end, since she knew perfectly well that it had been quite pleasant weather just a few moments ago. But they had just arrived at a ginormous castle with towers and a moat and all, and so of course the night had to be dark and stormy to match. “So freakin’ cliche,” Susan growled.

Just then, the gate creaked open. In a flash of lightning, there appeared a dour-faced man in a formal suit, complete with tails and a little bowtie. “Welcome,” he said stiffly, “to the Fort of Fortitude, castle of Morgana LeFay. Yes, I know, ‘tis a silly name. But when one is the most powerful enchantress in a millenia, one has license to be silly.”

“Right,” said Susan. “Obviously you’re not Morgana LeFay, not unless the Arthur stories got some details wildly wrong.”

“Correct. I am Madam’s butler. Have you business with Madam?”

“You bet we have,” Susan said. “I want the stick.”

The butler’s expression didn’t even flicker. “The…?”

Susan huffed in exasperation. “The Ugly Stick, ya dimwit! The one people are always talking about, when they say someone got beat up with the ugly stick? They keep using it as an idiom, only what they don’t know is that there’s a real ugly stick. Anything it touches, whether it’s a person or a Ming vase or a painting of some moron’s mother, gets cursed by surpassingly gruesome ugliness. I know my magical objects, okay?”

“Then you know,” said the man solemnly, “what the Ugly Stick of Morgana LeFay is actually used for.”

“Yeah. That’s why I want it. Duh.”

“You are aware of the price?”

Susan rolled her eyes. This was really getting to be unnecessary. “Yes, I’m aware, that’s why I brought them,” she replied, gesturing to the unconscious forms of Katrina and Ermingard lying on the ground. “You think I’m stupid?

“Hm,” said the butler, as more lightning flashed in the sky. “Only one is reqired for the sacrifice.”

“So I brought a spare.”

Doctor What had been looking more and more uncomfortable as the conversation went on, and now he turned positively green. “Sacrifice?” he blurted. “As in, blood? As in medieval unhygenic blood sacrifices where parts are removed and lots of other gruesome things happen?”

“Goodness no,” the butler said, looking quite shocked. “Madam would not be so…uncivilized. As it happens, she has a fondness for garden gnomes.” He gestured to the courtyard behind them, which was indeed littered with small statues of grubby bearded men with pointy hats. “Madam is quite the gnome enthusiast.”

Susan smiled wickedly, as Doctor What sighed in relief. “Oh, do I wish Catrina were here,” she said. “What I wouldn’t give to turn her into a garden gnome. Ah, well. Que sera sera. Let’s get on with the good bit, shall we?

“I shall summon Madam,” the butler said, and walked away, leaving Susan and the doctor standing at the gate.

“By the way,” Susan asked, “what exactly are you a doctor of?”

“What do you mean?” Doctor What returned, adjusting his sweater-vest.

“You call yourself a doctor. What of? You have medical expertise? Psychology, maybe? You went to law school? What?”

“It’s an honorary title,” he said, looking offended. “I was given it upon completion of my first world-domination scheme.”

“Almost completion,” Susan sniggered. “Till you got pounded by Frying Pan Man. Really? Frying Pan Man? That was your nemesis?”

“He was working with Lady Gnarly,” the doctor protested.

“Right. I remember her. Her only power is turning any color into tie-dye. And yet she still somehow stopped you. With her boyfriend the kitchen utensil. I’m really at a loss to understand why anyone’s afraid of you.”

The doctor sniveled. “Well, if you feel that way, why’d you bring me along on this thing?”

“Because you’re the only one who can work that stupid Time Lime,” she said, pointing to the small green object he still held in his hand. “And I don’t even know why you’re the only one, since you hate time travel. Whatever. Once I get the Ugly Stick, all you have to do is zap me over to the gates of Character Hell. Then you can go back to your own time period doing whatever it is you do. Honestly. Scariest Villain of the Decade. That awards panel must have been smokin’ something.”

Doctor What was about to object when he was interrupted by yet another convenient flash of lightning, Morgana LeFay appeared in a spray of light before them. Her face was hidden beneath a golden mask, but her voice still rang out cold and clear. “You wish to wield the Enchanted Stick of Uglification?”

“I prefer ugly stick, but yeah, I do,” Susan rejoined. “And yes, I know the price, yes I know only one person’s needed but I brought extra just in case, yes I know all the things you’re about to say so just get on with it!

Morgana sniffed. “You young people have no appreciation for ritual.  There are traditions involved here. In my day…”

“Oy,” Susan said. “Maybe I’ll just take my business somewhere else, and you won’t even get your stupid garden gnomes!”

The enchantress’s voice wavered, just a bit. “No, no, I was merely commenting. Just because you have no respect for formalities, that does not mean I wish to endanger our transaction. I have not made new additions to my collection, of late.” She produced a long silver wand from her sleeve. “Produce the sacrifices.”

Susan and Doctor What dragged the two forward. Morgana LeFay, the most powerful enchantress of the medieval time, raised her wand high and began reciting a complicated Latin incantation. Unfortunately, Susan had entirely neglected her studies before she became the Mistress of all Character Hell, particularly in Latin grammar, and so she had no idea what Morgana was saying. She only knew a few Latin words, which she used for the odd evil spell she’d picked up along the way, not nearly enough to translate. Perry could have, as he was a philological expert, but he’d been turned into a bear and was therefore of no help to anyone at present.

It was just then that Katrina regained consciousness. She’d picked an extremely inconvenient time. Just as her eyes flickered open, a green bolt of magical energy shot from Morgana’s wand straight to her. “Oh, no,” Katrina said, “you did not just shoot that green-”

She might have said something very inappropriate if she hadn’t abruptly transmogrified into a garden gnome. Her look of surprise and outrage was still evident on her gnomish face, even if it was slightly hidden by a puffy white beard worthy of those fellows from Duck Dynasty. Ermingard didn’t even have the luxury of waking up to realize what was happening before she was a garden gnome as well. Morgana snapped her fingers, and the butler (accompanied by a newly arrived gardener) whisked the garden gnomes away. Then she vanished too, and the castle gate slammed shut. On the mud-strewn pavement before it lay a stubbly brown stick.

Susan grinned like an insane rabbit. “Finally!”  The doctor gave a twist to the Time Lime, and they were both off again, leaving behind nothing but the pouring rain.

This has been another episode of the Catrina Chronicles. Be sure to tune in next week, as our adventure continues!  For previous episodes, go here. For my Amazon author page, go here. Thanks for reading!

Saturday Musings

1) I just rewatched Independence Day. A thought occurred to me. On July 4th in the movie, when the good guys finally have a plan to defeat the aliens, the major played by Adam Baldwin (the man they called Jayne) is giving a flying lecture to some newly recruited pilots, one of whom is the slightly nutty cropduster Russell Case. Major Jayne (yes, I know that’s not his name in the movie, but he’ll always be Jayne Cobb to me) asks the pilots about their previous flight experience, and Russell pops up with his bio about cropdusting after Vietnam. Then he starts to add, “On a personal note, ever since I was kidnapped by aliens…”  and Major Jayne gets this look on his face that most people get when they’re confronted by weird conspiracy theorists. Ordinarily I’d share his sentiment; I don’t much care for conspiracy theorists myself. But. Major Jayne is helping to plan humanity’s last-ditch counterattack against an ALIEN FLEET. He himself shot an alien dead only a few scenes ago. I think, under the circumstances, he might be a little more tolerant of Russell and his “I was kidnapped by aliens” claim, yeah? Yes, normally, people who claim to be kidnapped by aliens are probably a few crayons short of a box. But the reason why we think this is because, so far as we know, aliens don’t actually exist. In “Independence Day”, however, the aliens have conclusively (and rather dramatically) demonstrated that they do in fact exist. So Russell maybe has a point, yes?

2) I also recently rewatched The Sound of Music. Lovely. One of my favorite musicals. But I did have a depressing thought at the ending.  Yes, the von Trapp family got away over the mountains into Switzerland, where they presumably lived out the war, and maybe returned to Austria afterwards, or they went to America like their real-world counterparts. But what about the nuns left behind in the Abbey?

Think about it. Thanks to Rolf, Liesl’s one-time boyfriend, the Nazis know that the von Trapps were hiding in the Abbey. (Way to pick ‘em, Liesl). The Nazis also know that the family was hiding in a secured, fenced-off area to which only the nuns had access. Further, the Nazis in the movie were a lot of things, but they weren’t stupid. I imagine they figured out pretty quick that their cars wouldn’t have suddenly malfunctioned all at once by accident, right when they were parked outside the Abbey. They also might have noted the sudden disappearance of the Abbey caretaker’s car. Now, put that all together, and they know that the nuns not only sheltered the von Trapps and helped them escape, but sabotaged the Nazis’ cars in order to stop them from chasing the von Trapps. What do you suppose the Nazis did with the nuns after that?  It doesn’t bear thinking about.

 

 

 

Bad Experience

This story was written for the Trifecta weekend prompt, which was to write 33 words based on the following picture. For some reason, it reminded me of those silhouettes that you see in theatres, like The Lion King 1 1/2 or those Mystery Science Theatre guys. Anyway…

Photo credit: [ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND

[ changó ] / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND

“Why are we watching a movie about pavement?”

“And why am I carrying a flagpole?”

“Maybe to defend yourself against the giant carrot on your left?”

“AAAAH! A GIANT CARROT!”

“Worst movie ever.”

What Really Happened

Dinner was over and they were all lounging comfortably around the fireplace when he rose importantly from his chair. “My brothers,” he said grandly, “We have been very fortunate.”

“Hear, hear,” they mumbled, in what wasn’t exactly a rousing chorus of affirmation. But they ‘d come to expect this sort of thing; he was so fond of making speeches.  Happily he usually kept to inoffensive platitudes, and so they didn’t need to pay much attention.

“But,” he said, startling them badly, “I think we need to do more. This land is so troubled, and we could help so much.”

“Why should we?” one said bluntly. “We’re only three pigs, after all.”

“Not to state the obvious, but we’re three talking pigs. Any other talking pigs you know of around here? Not very. We’ve been given a gift. We have the responsibility to-”

“Look,” said the first pig, “I’d love to go on a crusade for justice or whatever, but I’m much too busy. I’ve been retained by Goldilocks, you know, in that trespassing suit the Three Bears filed. The trial prep alone could take months!”

“And it’s not exactly true,” said the second, “that we’re the only talking pigs. There’s Guinevere from Farmer Bob’s place. We’re sort of…seeing each other.”

“I see,” said the third pig in disappointment. “I had hoped…” Then his jaw tightened. “Fine. If we won’t band together, we bloody well can’t live together. I want you out of my house. By tomorrow.”

“But where are we supposed to go? The housing market’s wretched around here.  The brickmakers have gone on strike, too, and-“

“So use straw. Sticks. Your own droppings, for all I care. Just go.”

He felt a little remorseful when they did go the next morning, sniveling unhappily. One of these days, he thought, he would make it up to them. But that day never arrived. The wolf came first.  

This story was written for this week’s Trifecta prompt. It also takes place in the same universe as  my Third Little Pig stories, though chronologically it predates them. I decided a little backstory was in order.

F is For Flowers…and LeFay

Last time in the Catrina Chronicles, Perry (royal consort to Princess Catrina), had been attempting to cope with his unfortunate transformation into a bear. He had sought out the aid of the Yellow Fairy, but she had so far failed to change him back. She had, however, inadvertently given consciousness to a small random flower. We now join that flower as it begins a magical voyage of discovery, boldly going where no flower has gone before….

Sunlight beamed through the forest as the flower skipped along a rustic woodland path, like some random character in an overly saccharine Disney movie. The flower’s every petal thrilled with joy. All that time it had spent trapped in the flowerpot, watching as people passed by but never able to find out who they were or where they were going, and now, finally, it was free. Free at last! It made its way in an abundance of exaltation down the path, luxuriating in the warm sunshine and the pleasant breeze. Then it paused in mid-skip..

The flower suddenly realized that it had a lot of questions to answer about itself. It had never really pondered its own existence before. It hadn’t even known there was an existence to ponder. But now, it had to come to terms with the fact that it was a sentient flower. Did it have a name? Where was it going? What was its purpose in life? What was anything’s purpose in life? The flower’s roots quivered as it contemplated the vastness of the universe, and the Meaning of Things.

Then all at once, without even so much as a bright flash of warning, the flower was not alone. Two young women materialized on the path. One held a cross-bow in her hands, loaded with a gleaming spork; the other held a Sporksaber the color of a emerald that’s feeling poorly and needs to go lie down. The flower had no way of knowing, but these were Ermingard and Katrina, and they had finally found their way back into the story.

“We should probably do a recap, you think?” Katrina said, casually stepping on the flower and obliterating it, thus ending the poor flower’s journey of self-discovery rather prematurely.

“Might as well,” Ermingard sighed. “The readers have forgotten all about us by now, I expect.”

“Right,” said Katrina. “So. Basically we and Susan were helping Catrina save 21st century Earth from the Second Zombie Penguin Apocalypse. Then Susan ran off with Doctor What, who, lemme tell ya, is just freakin’ scary. We, Ermie and me,”

“Ermie and I.”

“Whatevs. We figured out that Susan and the doc were time-traveling back to Catrina’s own time period. So we decided to follow them, by disguising ourselves as pirates in order to get ninjas to attack us so we could steal their technology and use it to time-travel.”

Now that Ermingard was hearing this over again, she decided that their plan hadn’t exactly been the greatest one ever. Katrina barrelled on. “Unfortunately we got captured by cannibalistic Vikings before we could even start. Luckily we were saved by Melanie the Imaginary Girlfriend, who also gave us a time-traveling device shaped like a koala. That got us here. Hooray!”

Ermingard’s eyes narrowed. “Not to be critical, but…doesn’t that seem a bit too convenient? I mean, Melanie was an awfully big deus ex machina, even for our author. It was almost like he couldn’t figure out how to get us away from the Vikings, and just had Melanie come in and zap them with magic. Surely he wouldn’t write that poorly. So…maybe Melanie isn’t who she says she was.”

It was then that Katrina did a very foolish thing. She ought to have known the dangers of rhetorical questions. But, for one reason or another, she didn’t pause to think about that. Instead, she rolled her eyes, gave an exasperated huff, and asked in full rhetorical flair, “Well, just who else would she be?”

“Me,” said Susan, stepping from behind a tree. Before Katrina even realized what had happened, Susan had blasted her and Ermingard clean into unconsciousness with bolts from her twin laser pistols. The ex-mistress of all Character Hell glanced around, and then it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Okay, doc, the coast is clear. You can come out now.”

From behind another tree emerged a nervous man in a sweater-vest and white gloves, muttering to himself. “I don’t like time-travel, never did, too complicated, too many variables, grandmother’s paradox and all…”

“Oh, stuff it,” Susan said. “How you’re one of the most feared villains in the 21st century is beyond me.”

The man looked wounded by her remark. He sniffed, then pulled out a Kleenex from his pocket and wiped his nose. Then he hesitated. “You see, this is the problem. Where do I put this? In my lab there’d be a trashcan nearby, or a minion. I could leave it on the ground, but suppose the natives discover it? Tissue technology hasn’t even invented yet, not in the West anyway, not until 1924, and…”

“Will you forget the stupid tissue?” Susan screamed at him. “Honestly! All I wanted was for you to get me the Stick from Morgana and help me get the Door open, I didn’t want to hear your stupid whining, ya twip!”

Doctor What sighed unhappily and stuffed the tissue in his left pocket. “Well, we’re in the proper year now, and we’ve got the sacrifices we’ll need for Morgana. I just need to make an adjustment to the Time Lime…” he produced a small green lime from his right pocket, and did something to it that Susan didn’t quite see. The land blurred about them, and suddenly they weren’t on the woodland path anymore. The four of them now stood before massive walls of black stone, which surrounded an even more massive castle. Lightning forked overhead, and thunder crackled around them. Susan rolled her eyes yet again. She just hated the 12th century. So cliched.

“You do know,” the Doctor said, readjusting his sweater-vest for the fourteenth time, “Morgana might not accept the sacrifice in exchange for the Stick. Not if she really thinks about it. And even if she does, the records say the Stick doesn’t go missing until the 13th century, so we might be causing a breach in the-”

“Doctor?” Susan asked.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

 

This has been another exciting episode of the Catrina Chronicles. Be sure to tune in next week, as the tale of Ermingard and Katrina and Susan and Doctor What continues! For previous episodes, go here. Also, if you’re on Goodreads, and from Canada, the US, Australia, and Great Britain, you can enter a giveaway to win one of five copies of “Nuclear Family”, which has superheroes, a Pit of Marmosets, and a cameo from Catrina. Signed, even!