How to run and hide from a sex crazed dragon with a knight who's burn cream smells like maple syrup. Bone Valley - Chapter 9
Where Sir Richards's outlook on life is challenged by the colour grey, that miniature war elephants like big girls and white Irises suit every occasion.
Chapter 9
The Crew!
The terrified bellow of, “Don’t you touch my tooshie!” echoed from Sir Richards's small hospital room, out into the empty ‘scrubbed-within-an-inch-of-its-life’ hospital corridor.
“I wasn’t! Your sheet slid off the frame when you did your weird little spasm thing.” Was yelled back by a sincere but irritated Torren.
Sir Richard lifted his head from the pillow to give the smelly young man a piercing upper-class look. It was hard to exert one's authority over the lower classes when one found one had to lie face down on a hard hospital bed, which hampered one's ability to ‘eyeball’ the working class. It certainly didn’t help that one’s posterior was covered in cold, calming cream with a frame over one's buttocks and under the sheets to ensure nothing but air touched one’s delicate areas.
“Just please refrain from leaning too close to me. I am still in a lot of pain, and my tooshie feels like…”
At this point, poor Sir Richard had another one of his funny little spasms. This time, his body didn’t jerk, but his mind did. A loud and proud yodel ran around the room, “A burning ring of fire. I go down, down, down, and the flames, they get higher.”
Both Torren and Beatrix looked blank-faced at each other before they went back to trying to ignore the knight and his supreme weirdness.
Sir Richard had been through a lot in the last hour. His posterior had the cream and afterglow to prove it. His mind, though, had been through a lot more.
The knight knew he was not a complicated person. He did what needed to be done. He did the right thing. And for him, it was simple: black was black, and white was white. That was how his life was balanced. But at the moment, there seemed to be shades of grey slipping in. Sir Richard was finding it difficult to deal with a third colour.
Mother Harper was not supposed to be who she was proving to be. Sir Richard had been told on many occasions that the old witch was a cracked pot, an old bat and a charlatan who put pig fat on every wound presented and then told people they’d be fine.
She was not proving to be any of these things. Sir Richard should know; he’d sniffed the cream she was applying, and it certainly didn’t smell of bacon. A little maple syrup and something odd that reminded him of dragons… but not bacon!
“Why do you keep smelling all the little pots of cream?” Torren had taken to standing by the window to keep an eye on Sally in the hospital's barn. He was worried she wouldn’t settle into her new surroundings.
“What ho, little man. I am simply ensuring that I am aware of the contents of the salves applied to my manly nether regions.” Sir Richard pulled at the loose white knitted blanket, ensuring to everyone in the room that it looked like he had a taught tent over his buttocks.
“Why? Mother Harpers is one of the best medicinal crafters there is. Should have seen how fast my burns healed.”
“What, ho little man, was that when you tried to make your own soap and burnt your manly nether regions?”
Beatrix sat on the chair in the room with her legs crossed and her face hidden behind a ladies’ magazine. Torren could feel her smile behind the journal.
Gripping the windowsill, Torren spoke calmly. “I didn’t burn my private bits. I burnt my arm with the lye. And I wasn’t making soap to…” he paused because it was difficult to admit he smelt, but it was always with him. Torren continued, ready to offload the truth, “…to get rid of my….”
“Your virginity! Are you still a virgin, little man?” Sir Richard guffawed loudly into his pillow. “I thought everyone got their leg over during the ‘Mad Lust Rush’. What ho, still as pure as the driven snow.”
Sir Richard turned his head, smiled at the lady’s magazine, and stated suggestively. “I have a lot of experience in the lady’s department!” His eyebrows wiggled up and down before turning his head to address Torren once more. “I'm sure there’s someone out there for you, little man. Some young lady with no sense of smell. No need to burn your bits trying to make yourself more attractive; you’ve either got it,” Sir Richard indicated himself with a jaunty grin and hoicked a thumb to his pronate chest, then looked Torren up and down, “or sadly for you, you don’t!”
The lady’s magazine hit Sir Richard over the back of the head and then was put back up to its previous reading position before its owner questioned, “How long do we have to wait here? I need to get back to the palace and… do some stuff.” Beatrix turned a disinterested page.
“Mother Harper wants us to wait with….” Torren smiled as Sir Richard, who, due to the sheer surprise of just being hit, looked puzzled as he added yet another shade of grey to his life. “…Dicky, whilst she gets a balloon girdle for him.”
Sir Richard groaned, “What pray to tell is a balloon girdle?”
“It’s a corset type thingy to trick stupid men into thinking fat women are skinny. But in your case, I’ve adjusted it so it will balloon your pants out so nothing can touch ya red nether regions. You’ll only have to wear it for a couple of days, and then you’ll be all healed up or….” Mother Harper waltzed into the room in full medical glory.
“Or what, pray to tell, my good wo….”
Mother Harper raised a sharp eyebrow towards the recumbent knight, who paused and thought. (A rare occurrence for Sir Richard, so Mother Harper took pride in one achievement.)
“…my good Witch!” Sir Richard smiled, knowing he’d avoided a negative outcome.
“That’s more like it Dicky. Well, you’ll either heel up in the next couple of days, or your little knight will shrivel up and drop off!”
“WHAT HO! Good Goddess, NO! You can’t mean. You must be sure to provide me with the very best care. I’m a KNIGHT. THE HERO of the realm. You must give me the proper treatment correct for my station in life, not like,” Sir Richard flicked a quickly pointed finger at Torren, “the cheap stuff you’d give my little man over there.”
“Pardon?” Torren was tempted to give the knight a darn good slapping. Or at least a smacked backside. Luckily, Beatrix put the women's magazine to good use again.
“Dicky, don’t you fuss. I treats everyone the same in my hospital. Don’t matta’ to me if you’ves got copper or gold in your purse; as long as youse give me some, then I’m happy.”
Mother Harper stared out the window at Sally’s barn door.
“No need to worry, young lad,” she smiled at Torren, “Your ol’ lady’s been snoring and farting in her stall for the last half hour. She’s comfy next to my ol’ Ned, who thinks he’s in seventh heaven having a horsey of the female persuasion next to him.”
“Good to know.” Torren’s shoulders relaxed. “Who’s Ned.”
“He’s my elephant. Well, when I say elephant, he’s my miniature war elephant from the Hot Yet Wetlands. He’s got the soul of a berserk battalion tank but the body of a miniature poodle. He does no harm as long as no one gets ‘im drunk.”
Torren’s eyebrows floated up onto his forehead on their own accord. “Good to know.”
Mother Harper turned to Sir Richard. “You’ve got two visitors Dicky. I told them they could come up and have a chat wi’v you, as longs as there be no hanky-panky.”
The scent of expensive aftershave wafted into the room along with a gorgeous Mediterranean-looking man dressed in an expensive dark blue suit with a white unbuttoned shirt. His slicked-back black hair and warm brown eyes screamed style and sophistication, along with… two fangs poking just out of his mouth, resting on his bottom lip, which screamed vampire.
His whole aesthetic of sophisticated cool was somewhat spoiled by the scruffy, unshaven man standing happily next to him wearing a full-body, hooded white and fluffy unicorn onesie. “What-cha, Dick. What’s that awful bloody smell of burnt hair in here? Did you try and do a back, crack and sack with an open flame?”
Sir Richard buried his head in his pillow.
“Zorry, please!” was quietly whispered by the gorgeous, brown-eyed god, who nervously held a big bunch of white Iris in his quivering hands.
“Oh, it’s lovely to see you out, Zorro! I see the therapy I suggested is really starting to pay off!” Mother Harper patted the unicorn’s horn as she walked past.
“Yes, Mother Harper. Thank you, Mother Harper. I think I’ve finally found my true form.”
The scruffy young man with really thick sideburns stood smiling with a heart full of friendship.
“It’s a shame the ‘Hunk a Hunk a’ man didn’t take! I’s was quite looking forward to date night!” Mother Harper went to leave the room, but not before the other young man spoke up in a monotone diatribe.
“Zorro tore all his clothes off and did a naked double-bladed windmill impersonation of ‘Hunk a Hunk a’ man before he ran back inside and hid under his bed. The howling was quite disturbing. Luckily, the onesie turned up almost straight away; otherwise, he’d still be there.” The meticulous young vampire had not taken his eyes off the back of Sir Richard’s head.
Mother Harper smiled a far-off, dreamy smile. “Yes, I heard all about it from Mother Superior and her girls. Wish I’d been there to see the windmill part. Maybe you could do a private show for me at some point, you sexy beast man!”
The young unicorn man blushed and nodded with a wry smile. “Yes, Mother Harper, I’ll bring it along on date night.”
Mother Harper smiled at the stunned Torren and Beatrix, who were desperately trying to quell their imaginations in the hope that no images of what Mother Harper was requesting would come to mind.
“Well, I’ll leave you’se all to get acquainted. I can hear the front doorbell ringing, so I’ll just go an tell ‘em to go round the back before they splodge blood all over my floor.”
A gagging noise erupted from the vampire.
“Aw dang it, Sangre, I’s sorry. I totally forgot.” Mother Harper slapped herself over the forehead.
“Don’t mention it.” Whispered the blushing vampire as he continued to stare at Sir Richard, who remained face down on the hospital bed.
Beatrix was fascinated and absentmindedly placed her magazine on Sir Richard’s back.
“You’re Sangre De Ventosa! You’re Mother Heggerty’s world-renowned Vegan Chief. You got five stars in the ‘Look at Me I’m A Fancy Smanchy Cook” competition. You owned a string of seven highly successful restaurants before….” Beatrix’s voice faded as Sangre turned his sad, dark mahogany eyes to her.
“Before the witches burnt my life down and I was forced to cook for a vegetable-hating carnivorous, atrocious and ghastly bitch; who enjoys making my life and my life’s work the laughingstock of any and every influential individual from here to the Really Big Mountains. Yes, that’s me.”
“Oh, another witch fan, I see. Nice to meet you. I’m Torren Thatcher.”
A warm and friendly hand was put forward, which was looked at by Sangre and grabbed and shaken by Zorro, who commented enthusiastically. “You smell like dragon shite. I really like you. Would you mind if I rolled over you for a little bit? Don’t mind Sangre; he's a vampire and worries about touching people in case he loses it and goes all bat crazy on you.”
“I am in PAIN!” Sir Richard bellowed into his pillow. “I am here lying on a bed in pain. Please show some respect, what ho!”
“Oh, my dear Sir Richard…” Sangre reached out and caressed the sheet which covered the knight’s foot. “I brought you Iris’s; they are your favourite, and I hoped they would lighten your spirit in your depths of agony. I wanted to come immediately to offer you any of my services that could aid in your quick recovery. The city will be on tenterhooks until you are once more guarding us with your big and mighty broad sword.”
Zorro shook his head and mouthed, “No, we won’t!” then winked at the smiling Torren.
Sir Richard's room door burst open with a flushed and frantic Mother Harper yelling, “Run! The yellow custard tart has turned up at the front door, and she’s looking to disembowel you. Quick, get Dicky up on his feet and out the back door.”
The sheet was flung down, showing a pair of buttocks that resembled two cream cherry pies.”
“What, what? What’s going on?” Beatrix stood helping Richard up, who expressed himself in agonising wails.
“I can’t, what ho, I can’t bear to stand, little-on walk!” Tears streamed down the poor knight's face as his buttock cream pie peeped out from his hospital gown’s open back.
“Quick, Zorry,” Sangre let his Iris bouquet drop to the floor, forgotten. “Put him over your shoulder.”
“Right, you are.” Sir Richard was deftly manhandled like a sack of potatoes over the unicorn’s solid shoulder.
“I don’t know how she tracked you, but you’d better keep moving. I’ve got too many mothers, babies and sick people here for her to come in. She’d have a field day and a feast all at the same time.” Mother Harper looked worried, which worried everyone else.
“Can’t you fight her?” Torren stood still amongst the hurried movement.
“Yes, I could.” Mother Harper looked up at him, “but she’d make me pay first by burning everything and everyone I love down to the ground. Please,” Mother Harper grabbed Torren by the arm and hurried him out, “you’ve got to go.” Then she whispered in Torren’s ear, “You look after that girl and these boys; they’re all special to me, and if that yellow bitch comes anywhere near you, use your special little knife you’ve gotten hidden in ya man bag. The Monks knew what they were doing; that’s why Heggerty’s dealt with them.”
The old witch did a complicated thing with her hands and then clapped them together like thunder. And with that, the pentamerous troop stood out in the cooling night behind the two-story hospital and in front of the barn.
“Come on,” Whispered Torren, “I’m not leaving Sally.”
Then, as quietly as they could, the group tip-toed into the clean and sparkling stables, finding Sally snoring away in a stall. A little grey leathery bundle was curled up by her front feet and out of the straw, its grey trunk wrapped around her front leg.
“Oh, bless.” Whispered Beatrix, “Sally’s made a friend.”
“I would nay like to see the pups from that union, though!” A dirty old man’s laugh snuck out from the darkness behind them. “Ere my buttercup,” Mr Geezer called out to the darkness, “t’ youngins is leaving by’t back entrance.”
“No time for your horse. I’m sorry, we need to get away from the hospital as fast as we can.” Sangre pulled at Zorro to follow him out in the back alley.
“You’re a real jerk, Mister.” Torren couldn’t help but pass judgment as they passed Mr Geezer standing in the doorway of the hospital's barn smoking a glowing dog end.
“Aye, but by golly, I know which side my bread’s buttered.” The cigarette glowed brightly.
The group looked left and right on the main street, “Which way, ‘cause this dude is heavy!” Zorro moved the now silent Sir Richard.
“Why is Dicky so quiet?” Beatrix checked for a pulse.
“Oh, he passed out as soon as I picked him up. But I find him quite refreshing and entertaining when he’s all floppy and quiet.” Zorro smiled, which exposed his two big K9s.
Sangre whispered, “Come this way”, and began walking quickly in the dark towards the ‘Old Bones Cemetary’, conveniently located over the road from the hospital.
Zorro obediently followed his friend as Torren and Beatrix followed him into the land of the dead.
Thank you for reading the latest chapter of my mind madness. If you’ve enjoyed it, please subscribe so you don’t miss out… on… more…. … …. madness. (That sounded better in my head.)
And now we come to the …less mad part.
My Weekly Referral!
So, for some strange and weird reason, I write either humour or HORROR with a little dark fantasy thrown in for good measure.
How these genres are related is quite complex. But why I love writing Horror, I don’t know why because I’m literally scared of the dark, and my imagination runs away with me so badly when I do go out into the inky night, I always need a bit of lay down afterwards.
I think it has something to do with coming face to face with a stalker kangaroo one night when I went out to bravely get wood whilst making sure no spiders or snakes were being picked up by accident. The Roo made a noise, dogs barked, I yelled at them because ‘Shut UP, there's NOTHING there’ is my calming mantra, and then he took off at full pelt right at me! My brain is not wired the right way to deal with a big black shape bounding out from the inky darkness straight towards my pulsating jugular. I don’t know who squealed, but it was so high-pitched it could have broken glass.
So I’m going to be recommending
this week. Go and check out their amazing HORROR collection. IF YOU DARE Mwah ha ha harrr!
Thank you for the recommendation!! I read this chapter and although I have no idea what’s going on, I love your characters. What a fantastic crew!