Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (2 page)

“Oh, Douchebagga,” Heather groaned. “Won’t you reconsider?”

“No!” The old witch stomped her foot. “I can’t live without Drag,” she cackled.

Heather rolled her eyes. “So is that who you are pining for now?” She jutted one hand on her hip while pointing a finger at her mistress. “Douchebagga, he’s a dragon. You’re a witch. The two of you aren’t meant to be together.”

“He’s my soul-mate. I can feel it.” Douchebagga dreamily sighed while batting her eyes, making her extremely hideous and grotesque face look one-tenth-of-a-degree less ugly.

Heather shook her head. “Fairytale Kingdom has many eligible old, blind, desperate knights you can brainwash.”

The witch grimaced. “Those old farts? I’ve got better things to do with my time than waste my days in this tower making erection potions. Besides, have you seen the bulge beneath Drag’s skirt? He’s hung like a dragon.” She hobbled over to her cauldron and dropped the entire bottle of tiger eye into the brew.

“I try not to look.” Heather struggled to repress nauseating images of the old witch straddling the dragon. “How will you get him to drink the potion?”

The witch rubbed her hands together as her dull eyes lit with a wicked gleam. “I will pour it into his water dish.”

“He’s not a dog. He probably drinks from Swans Lake.”

A slow smile lifted the witch’s sallow features. “I know.”

A knot the size of a small rodent twisted itself in Heather’s gut. She assumed the knot was due to the notion that her mistress was about to poison the entire kingdom. Either that, or that triple strength laxative potion she’d concocted to battle her week-long constipation had finally started working.

“Douchebagga, I think you’re making a terrible mistake,” she cried. “Many other creatures from Fairytale Kingdom use that water source.”

The witch waved off Heather with a flick of her wrist. “This potion won’t harm them. Besides, the world could use a little more love.”

Heather leveled Douchebagga with a glare. “I know this isn’t
you
talking.”

“You’re right,” she squealed. “I don’t give a wizard’s dick what happens to them. I’ll do anything to make Drag love me.” Douchebagga sighed as she placed a gnarled hand across the portion of her chest where most normal people kept their hearts.

The old witch then pulled a small flask from between the cavity of her large and sagging breasts. She dipped the flask into the cauldron, and after corking the bottle, tucked it back between her breasts.

“This is very dangerous, Douchebagga,” Heather warned. “And if your potion is somehow flawed, think of the consequences.”

Douchebagga simply laughed before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Her obnoxious cliché cackling could be heard from somewhere outside the tower window.

Heather raced to the window and watched in horror as her mistress rode off into the evening sky, riding her new solar powered, turbo charged, energy efficient broom.

Heather’s shoulders fell. She knew there was no way she could catch up to Douchebagga and stop her from poisoning the kingdom. She couldn’t afford a fast broom and had to settle for a Shilling Store, compact model with a plastic handle. If her mistress actually paid her a decent wage, maybe Heather could have afforded a better broom. One day Heather would summon the nerve to ask Douchebagga for a raise. All of the other witches in the Druid’s Union made twice her salary.

But now was not the time to fret over money. Not when the lives of so many innocent people swimming in the lake’s infested waters were at stake. Heather knew she had to at least try to stop Douchebagga. Determination fueled her movements as she stormed toward the utility closet and yanked out her broom.

Then that knot hit her in the gut again, and this time, Heather recognized the urge to go use the toilet.

She dropped the broom and raced to the bathroom with only moments to spare. First, she’d take care of her own business, then she’d go save the kingdom.

Barth and Drag were lying on the knoll, looking up at the clouds and telling dirty jokes when the wizard’s irate call blared through the forest.

“Barthalamew Huganut the Tenth!”

Startled, they both sat up and stared at the large, throbbing orb that had created an angry void in the clouds.

“Uh, oh!” Drag squealed. “The wizard’s pussy is staring at you.”

“Shut it, Drag,” Barth hissed through frozen features. “That’s a giant eyeball.” He turned his attention up toward the orb. “Greetings, Wizard.”

The orb narrowed as dark, ominous smoke filtered across the outer edges. “You still hanging out with that dragon riff-raff?” The wizard’s voice boomed from the orb.

Barth repressed a grimace. He could feel the vibrations from Drag’s growls shaking the ground beneath him.

“Quit, Drag,” he whispered before addressing the wizard. “How may I be of service to you?”

“Get your lazy ass to the castle,” the wizard’s voice grumbled. “The king wants a word with you.” The orb shifted its menacing focus on Drag. “Alone.”

Barth hurriedly stood and brushed pollen off his pants. “Yes, Wizard.”

The orb blinked out and then returned, looking even darker and more menacing than before.

“And Drag.” The wizard’s voice took on a caustic tone. “It’s NOT a giant pussy, so you can quit staring.”

* * *

“That was fast. I’m impressed.” Wizard Dilligaf greeted Barth with a firm handshake and a pat on the back. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

Barth couldn’t help but smile at the old guy, not just because he looked really cute and cliché with his scraggly white beard and long grey robe. For all the pretense and hoopla that Dilligaf was some vile and powerful wizard, Barth knew better.

“Thanks,” Barth answered before sauntering across the stone floor and plopping into an oversized chair beside the hearth. “Drag dropped me off.”

The wizard rolled his eyes.

Barth took the opportunity to flag down a buxom blonde serving wench. He stood and took a glass of wine off her tray and downed it in one swallow.

After he set the empty glass on the tray, she looked at him with raised brows and an expectant glare.

He turned out his pockets and offered her an apologetic smile when he revealed nothing more than a paperclip and a bubblegum wrapper.

The wench grabbed another glass of wine off the tray and dumped it over his head. Then, she flipped him the bird before sashaying away.

Barth let out a low whistle as he slumped back into the chair and watched her saunter off. He’d give his left testicle for the chance to flip up her skirts and straddle her on his lance of love. It had been a while since the last time he’d been laid. Seemed the local girls only wanted to have sex with a real dragon slayer.

He turned back toward the wizard who was staring at him with a look of derision in his tired old eyes.

Barth burped into his fist. “Why’d the king summon me this time?”

“Don’t play dumb, Barth.” The wizard shook his head while running a hand through his beard. “You know what this is about. How many dragons have you slain this month?”

Barth averted his gaze. “Uhhhh.”

“Exactly,” the wizard snapped. “You need to kill some monsters or the king really will fire you.”

A wave of shame washed over Barth. The wizard had been his family’s friend and ally for ten generations. He hated to let the old guy down. Especially since he’d witnessed the wizard’s acts of charity on more than one occasion, particularly the numerous times the wizard had saved his ass from being reamed by the king.

Maybe one day Barth would summon the nerve to stand up for himself. Until that day came, he was sure grateful for the Wizard’s support.

“Wizard.” Barth swallowed as he tried to think of the right words to say without coming off as a total pussy. “It’s just not in my nature to kill dragons. They’re really not bad creatures once you get to know them.”

“So you told me,” the wizard grumbled, “after your first and only quest.”

After Barth had been knighted, he’d been summoned to slay the beast who’d been terrorizing maidens by stealing their dresses, jewels and moisturizer. Before that night, Barth had no idea he would not have the heart to be a dragon slayer.

He’d found Drag inside his lair, sobbing while trying to patch together lace seams on what looked to be the largest ball gown Barth had ever seen. When Barth left the dragon’s lair, he’d emerged not with the head of the winged beast, but with a long list of supplies, including silks and large sewing needles. Barth had made a promise to the dragon that if he quit stealing dresses, Barth would supply the necessary material for making gowns.

“Your great grandfather ten times removed—the dearest friend I’ve ever had—would turn in his grave if he saw what you’ve become.”

Barth slumped lower in his chair. “You’ve told me this already, Wizard.”

Just then the king’s royal ass kisser made his presence known by clearing his throat very loudly. “The king will see you now.”

Barth stood and stretched toward the ceiling while yawning. “I gotta go, Wizard.”

Wizard Dilligaf grabbed Barth’s arm as he passed by. “Please, Barth, for the sake of your family’s once-good name, don’t say anything idiotic.”

Barth shrugged. “I’ll try not to.”

* * *

Barth bowed before the king after he’d entered his royal chamber. “Your Highness.”

King Ronald Dump sat behind the largest gold-plated desk Barth had ever seen. The desk was so large, in fact, that Barth couldn’t help but wonder if the king was over-compensating for some area in which he lacked. Perhaps, Barth thought, the king was hiding something beneath the tail-end of that petrified beaver pelt wig, which sat at an odd angle beneath his crown. Barth never understood if the pelt was supposed to resemble a really bad comb-over, or perhaps the king was trying to start a new fashion trend by wearing a sideways piece of dead ass.

The king laced his fingers in front of him while fixing Barth with an assessing glare. “You know why I’ve summoned you, don’t you Barth?” the king squeaked.

“Yeah. I know.” Barth had to try really hard to repress his laughter whenever King Dump spoke. Barth only hoped the wizard would come up with a potion to make the king’s testicles grow back soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep a straight face whenever he listened to his ruler’s girly falsetto.

The king stood and pointed an accusing finger. “The wizard’s giant pussy caught you making merriment with that dragon again.”

“It’s an eye.”

“Don’t correct me.” The king wagged his finger.

Barth grimaced. “Sorry.”

“How many dragons have you killed this month?” King Dump folded his hands behind his back and began pacing in front of his desk.

Barth arched a brow. “Why don’t you ask the pussy?”

“Are you getting cheeky with me, Barthalamew?” The king squealed, sounding too much like a teenaged girl who’d just discovered her first pimple. He leaned across his desk and pounded it with a heavy fist.

Barth forced himself to look away from the king’s intense gaze. “The only dragon I know is Drag, and he’s harmless.”

The king threw up his hands. “Then what the hell am I keeping you on my payroll for?”

“I dunno.” Barth shrugged. “In case some other monsters invade the kingdom.”

“What other monsters? Whenever an angry troll or menacing giant gets too close to the kingdom, your dragon burns them to a crisp.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to slay him.”

“The monotony has got to stop.” The king groaned while falling back into his chair. “Nothing dangerous or fun happens in this town anymore.”

Barth arched a brow. “So you’re saying you want me to kill for the fun of it?”

“When your grandfathers were slaying monsters, tourism in Fairytale Kingdom was booming. People from every land flocked to see a good fight. Look at us now. We’re in an economic slump.” The king waved a hand toward his chamber, decorated with gold-plated paintings, candle sticks made of gold, and even a champagne fountain in the center of the lavish room was made of gold.

“Perhaps you should hold a garage sale,” Barth said dryly. “I’m sure the furniture in your chamber alone would feed the town for a few years.”