The Once and Future Idiot

by Adam D. Jones

She cracked the reins when the vendors closed in, pushing us through the potato-wielding crowd. Word had spread that the prince was buying produce, and now we were surrounded by vendors banging on the doors while shouting impossible promises about their crops.

“He was lying!” said Garth. He reached into his burlap sack, dug around for a few moments, and then triumphantly pulled out the old book. “There’s nothing in here about dark eyes. Or bats! Or any of it!” “Then why did you bother that poor man?” “To see if he was lying! Remember that time you told me that everyone’s always lying?” I nodded. In truth, I had no memory of saying that, but it certainly sounded like me.

“Not a chance,” I said. “That staff is dafter than…” Dafter than the crown prince is how the saying went, but I held my tongue.

“Last week, he delivered a monstrosity! The stuffed creature looked normal at the bottom, four feet with hooves like a deer, but he’d attached those to a lion’s body! To top it all off, it had a neck taller than a tree, like a giant snake. And spots all over! Most questionable beast I ever saw!”

It was just my luck that the only lesson I’d taught him was sarcasm.

King Ulder was an intimidating sight in his blood-red armor. It was decorated here and there with spikes, and I pondered adding those to my own outfits to teach a lesson to those pesky hugging types who avoid handshakes.

(I suppose I could have invented my own mystical persona instead of borrowing from a famous legend, but that would have been a lot more work. And when you rip off a classic story, you get to pass it off as an homage. Or so I’ve heard.)