Taking back the blog

I am in the process of taking my blog back from Frito and Samdumb. Forgive the mess while I begin the housekeeping.

Peace,
Crotalus.

The Battle for the One Key Ring

It was impossible to miss Gollumita's lair. It sat in the center of a short plateau, wastelands all around. I climbed the plateau and approached the structure.

Arched doorways were carved all around the circular building, and surrounding it was a brick wall, about four feet high and two feet thick. I walked all around, looking for some way in. I found none. But then I noticed a small rectangular sign:

Ring bell for service.

I checked all around, but found no bell. Then I realized: So it begins. I reached into the pouch, much as I hated to, and fished around the vile snot rag and brown tooth, until my fingers recognized the smooth metal that had fallen from the jester's shoe.

I had an epiphany. The sound of clown. Oh.

As I took the bell from the pouch, something strange and wondrous occurred. The bell began to grow in my hands.

It's the pouch. It must be magic.

When the bell finished growing, it was like a large golden cowbell. I held it high and rang it. The sound was like a peal of thunder. Pure and ominous. I muted it with a touch of my palm.

A scream tore free of the circular walls. "A challenger! I hear you ringing, but you shan't get my ring. Not my precious." Then she stepped from an archway and scampered to the wall.

Hideous doesn't begin to describe her. I can only post this picture:



"Go back home, human. You are no match for my power!"

"No," I said, steeling myself. "I've come too far. I won't turn back now."

"You don't even know how this is done."

"I'll wrestle you to the ground if I have to. King Richard the flare-hearted showed me how." In a flash of inspiration, I reached into the bag and pulled out Hector's hanky. It grew in my hands until it was almost as big as a robe. I threw it over Gollumita's head and dragged her over the wall.

I started punching her in the head.

"Nay, outlander!" She touched the cloth with a single, warty finger and it began to shrink. The cloth shrank until it was its original size. I let it fall to the ground.

Okay, I thought. So I guess the purpose of that was to show me what I can't do.

"This is not a fist fight, boy. This is a battle defined by the power of your very soul!"

"Meaning what, exactly?" I asked.

Gollumita pulled a flute from somewhere in her sleeve. She began to play.

The melody was haunting and otherworldly, beautiful as a childhood dream. It reached into parts of me I didn't even know existed and pulled at my heartstrings like a long forgotten desire, freshly recalled. It danced through my head and made me want to laugh, cry, and sing. And when it was over, I did cry. A single tear.

"That was incredible," I said.

Gollumita glared at me. "Shut up. It's your turn."

I reached into the pouch. The first thing I pulled forth was the spark. It grew until it was as big as a guitar. I took out the strand of hair. It shone metallic and grew stout as a nickle-wound wire, medium gauge. Then the sequin, which grew to the size of a guitar pick.

I began to get an idea.

The last object I reached for was the tooth. Loathe as I was to touch it, I knew I needed it. And what's more, I knew what for. Though it remained a tooth, it grew until it was big enough for my purposes.

"What are you doing?" asked Gollumita. "You gonna try to top my act or not?"

Ignoring her, I took the tooth and began to work it into the end of the spark's handle. It went in easy as a toothpick into butter. Once in place, it held firm. Then I took the golden strand and wrapped one end around the tooth. I tied it fast. I stretched it down the shaft of the spark, then over and around the first tine. Then back to the tooth, where I wrapped it twice. Down to the second tine, back to the tooth, until I'd threaded it down and back to all four tines. Finally, I tied the free end securely to the tooth.

Then I twisted the tooth like a tuning key until the strand was taut. I sat and took the roughly fashioned instrument into my lap. Placing my hand around its neck, I fretted where a 'G' chord would be and ran the pick across the strings.

If Gollumita's playing was otherworldly, then mine was inspired of heaven itself. A seraph with pearl inlaid harp could not have summoned forth more glorious music. I cradled the instrument like a mother holding her newborn, and felt my heart and soul channeled into its body. All my heartbreak, all my love, the joy, wonderment, every tragedy and every triumph of my life emanated from the strings as I caressed them gently.

And I did weep. I laughed. The tempo began to increase. An ascension up the strings as I played a lick that Yngwie Malmsteen himself would have despaired of ever attempting. I loosed my fingers in a machine gun staccato, hammering up and down the strings until they roared with all the passion of my being. When the final riff exploded from my song, it was like a hole being punched into the fabric of reality. I grabbed the instrument at either end then bent it and shook it, sending the resonating vibrato of the last dying note straight at Gollumita.

She fell in a heap as an eerie silence enveloped the world.

I set my instrument and pick aside. Immediately they shrank to their original size and became again a tooth, a strand of hair, a spark, and a sequin. I hurried to Gollumita's side.

She was alive, but completely subdued and exhausted.

I knelt and suddenly knew what I had to say to complete the ritual:

"So live that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan which moves to that mysterious realm..." I kept reciting the last stanza of William Cullen Bryant's 'Thanatopsis', until Gollumita shuddered and opened her eyes.

"Here," she said, holding forth a frail hand. In her fingers was a golden key ring. "You won. The One Key-Ring is yours."



I took it.

She looked at me with pleading eyes. "What will you do now? Will you kill me?"

"Nay!" came a thunderous voice. "Nay, I say!"

We both turned our heads in the direction of the voice. He stood there in his armor, sword drawn and ready. Hector.



"That pleasure is mine, you piliferous swine."

I had no idea what that word meant, but it didn't sound good. He strode forward and raised his sword.

"Don't do it, Hector," Gollumita cried. "I am free of the ring's influence, and now I free you too!" She waved a hand in his direction.

"Releasing me of that vile spell will not spare your life!" He waited a second. Then, satisfied that no rhyme was forthcoming, he said, "You killed my beloved Sheagle."

"Oh, Hector," said Gollumita. "I didn't kill Sheagle. I am Sheagle."

"No!" he cried, as his sword hand began to tremble. "That can't be true!"

"Search your feelings, Hector. You know it to be true!"

"Nooooooooooo!!!" He dropped to his knees and let the sword clatter to the stony ground. He crawled to Gollumita's side.

I watched, transfixed, as he took her in his arms. He found also the scrap of cloth I had discarded and used it to gently wipe the sweat from her brow.

"That cloth," she said. "It feels...familiar."

He held it up so she could see it. "When I saw you wearing this the night that Sheagle disappeared, I thought you had killed her and stolen her gown. I didn't realize that you were really my beloved."

Gollumita nodded. "And when I ran from you, you grabbed me. I remember now, how it tore in your hands."

"It's been soaked with every tear that I've cried since." He touched her again with it. "Why did you do it, Sheagle? Why?"

She frowned. "The Key-Ring had beckoned me. A simple miner had found the gold, hardened in a cooled lava flow, and chipped it free. He made a key ring out of it. Because of my lineage, Smeagle being my second great great grand cousin twice removed, the ring had an affinity for my bloodline and called to me. I was weak. I succumbed to its power. Oh Hector, I am so sorry."

"Hush now," he said. "Let me tend to you."

I watched as he touched her warted skin with the cloth. Then I noticed something miraculous. Everywhere the cloth touched, a wart disappeared. He smoothed out her skin until it was radiant, unblemished as a child's. As her warts and wrinkles disappeared, her spine straightened, and her features shifted into those of a young, fair maiden. When he finished, Sheagle was herself again. Hector picked her up and carried her to his waiting steed.

"Man, that was beautiful," I said.

"Well done, Crotalus," came a rough, tobacco-soaked voice.

I turned to greet Cletus. "Thanks, Cletus."

"So was the quest everything you thought it might be?" he asked.

"Well," I said. "Of course not. It never is. And I'll admit there was a time or two that I would've liked to cuss you out."

He smiled. "Reckon that's understandable." He walked over to where I'd put the instrument and picked up his tooth. He opened his mouth and worked the tooth back into place. Then he picked up the other three items and handed them to me. I put them back in the Crown Royal bag. I also dropped the One Key-Ring in.

"Wait a minute there hoss," said Cletus. "We need to get shed of that."

"Dude," I said. "After all I've been through, I think I deserve it. Besides, I've been needing a new key ring."

"No. You might start off usin' it that way, but it's got a mind of its own. It'll take possession of you. It'll pervert you to its will and use you."

"Hogwash," I said. "It's a key ring."

"Look what it done to Gollumita!"

"What's a wart here or there? That's what Salicylic acid is for."

He frowned at me. "For your own good, hand it over."

That's when I noticed the fear in his eyes. He couldn't take it by force. If he had been able to defeat Gollumita himself, he would have. I was the Chosen One, because I was the only one with enough passion in my soul to defeat Gollumita in the musical duel. I realized that I now had all the power.

"I aint giving it up!" I said. Then I headed back toward Hiram's. Somehow now, with the One Key-Ring in my possession, I had a keen sense of direction. Wealths of knowledge opened up in my mind, as the key ring began to free my pent up potential. I could feel myself growing more savvy than P.T. Barnum, more smarter than Einstein.

"Don't do it, Crotalus!" I could hear Cletus yelling behind me. "Don't do it!

"Quit worrying, old man," I shot over my shoulder. "I'll be all right. Besides..." I turned and smiled at him with a mischievous glint in my eye. "....It's my precious."


***

the end

Much maligned

I climbed mountains for days. Uphill and down, until I finally trudged over the tallest peak and saw below me a desolate valley. A mountain lake spread black and stagnant throughout the valley, and on its far side, hewn into gray rock, was a cave.

I made it to the cave by dusk and read the sign posted out front. 'Filbert's Fancy Stuff. Come in and browse.'

I stuck my head inside the cave. "Anybody home?"

"A customer!" came a cheery roar. And then he stepped into view. If Orville Redenbacher had been reincarnated as a lizard, then this is what he would look like. Dressed in a bow-tie and vest, the dragon approached me and stuck out a hand.

"I'm Filbert, the curio-dealing dragon. Won't you come on in?"

I stepped cautiously inside. The chamber was lit by soft, welcoming lights arranged in sconces along the walls. I looked at the dragon. Somehow he seemed familiar. Then suddenly a song from my childhood came to mind. "Puff," I said absently.

"What did you say?" The dragon seemed alarmed.

"You just remind me of that song. You know..." I started to hum the tune.

"Filbert! I'm Filbert, not Puff. Do you hear me? Do you??" He started breathing hard. Warm smoke curled from his nostrils.

"Sure dude. Sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"I mean, can't a dragon start over? Do I have to pay forever? It was the sixties for cryin' out loud, just that one time in college. Everyone was trying it! And I didn't even like it, couldn't get past the smell. Heck, I didn't even inhale! But just because a video somehow surfaced and now has been posted on you-tube, and just because my name happened to be... oh never mind."

"So you are Puff!"

He shook his head sadly. "No, that life is behind me. I had my name legally changed. Filbert Jenkins. And they've got me peddling my wares way up here, where no one ever goes. After that video leaked, Jackie stopped coming around, they put a restraining order on me. Can't play with the kids anymore, they said. I had to leave Honalee." He wiped a tear from his eye. "So, anyway... what are you looking for? I've got some giant's rings, 70% off. Some painted wings."

"No. I'm not sure exactly. The jester said something about a dragons seal?"

His eyes lit up. "Ah yes! Stanley and Cletus both left me voice mails, said to be looking for someone like you. Crotalus, is it?"

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself."

"It's nothing. We got side-tracked by my past, and so I apologize." He started rummaging through a barrel marked 'Clearance'. "Here it is." He handed me a can the size and shape of a tin of Skoal. I read the label: Sealing Wax.

"Of course," I said. "Uh, how much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Just do one thing for me, will you?"

"Sure."

"If you're ever in Honalee, tell them I'm not a bad dragon. Help restore my good name. Tell them how sober and clear-headed I seemed. How well I'm doing. Tell them how clean the cave is and how there was no trace of paraphenalia. Can you do that for me?"

"I'd be happy to. In fact, I'll tell the world. I'll post it on my blog, I've got thousands upon thousands of readers, you know."

He gasped in gratitude. "Thank you, Crotalus. We dragons get a bad rap, and I especially have been much maligned."

I dropped the sealing wax into my pouch. "I'll do everything I can." I shook his hand again. "Before I go can I ask for directions, Filbert?"

"Puff," he said. "You can call me Puff."

Then he led me outside. The sun had set already, so by the light of the full moon he pointed the way to Gollumita's lair. "Be careful," he warned me. "You're Fair-to-Middlin' Earth's last hope."

I set my face for the horizon. I hadn't asked for this burden, and at times had prayed it would be lifted from me. But I knew now that I would lay it aside only when I had defeated Gollumita...

...or when I met with my own destruction.

And yet another word from the Hobbits...

It's us again. Well, we get the sense that ol' Crotalus is nearin' the end of his journey. We've tried to be faithful in uploading all his texts onto this here blog. But we pride ourselves into going above and beyond. Which means we've hidden some cookies in here for the really devoted fans. We hear there are thousands upon thousands lurkin' around this little corner of cyber-space, so y'all should get a kick out of this. Anywho, click on our picture and you'll see what we mean.

That is all,

Frito and Samdumb

An Elven Spark

At some point I slept. Then I got up and walked some more. I repeated this pattern until I came to a bridge. It stretched over a ravine with a raging river below. On the other side was a chain of dismal mountains, and on my side, an elf.

He was dressed in ivy and had that 'resembles a movie star that you can't quite name' look. I approached slowly and held my hand up in what I hoped seemed a friendly greeting.

He held his hand up as well, with the fingers splayed strangely apart.

Oh no. A gang sign. He's probably with their version of the Crips or something.

"Greetings," he finally said. "Come. I will ask three questions. Answer correctly and I'll give you a talisman and allow you to pass."

"Go ahead," I said, bracing myself. "I'm ready."

"What is your name?"

"Easy. Crotalus."

"Very well, Easy Crotalus, what is your quest?"

"To find Gollumita, defeat her, and take the One-Key Ring."

"And now," he said, arching one eyebrow. "Regarding Colubrids, specifically those of the genus Heterodon, what prey make up the bulk of their diet?"

I thought for a moment. "Are you talking about platirhinos, nasicus, or simus?"

"Uh...I uh..." He looked over at the chasm apprehensively. "Uh...all three, of course."

"Well," I said. "Nasicus and simus prey mainly on rodents and lizards. But platirhinos prefer toads, since they have immunity to the toxins."

He lowered his brow. "Fascinating. And how do you know so much about hognose snakes?"

"Wikipedia, dude. So, do you have a prize for me?"

"Indeed." He reached somewhere inside his ivy clothing and pulled out a plastic utensil. "A spark," he said, offering it to me.



I looked at it dubiously. "Dude, that's a spork."

He frowned. "No, I am Spork. This is my invention, and I call it a 'spark'."

"Sorry, but Colonel Sanders beat you to it. That's a spork there in your hand, mister uh...Spork. It's a combination of a fork and a spoon, hence the name."

He shook his head. "If this were indeed a combination of a fork and a spoon, it would be called a 'foon'. Do not try to argue, logic is on my side."

"So you're giving me a foon?"

"No, I'm giving you a spork...I mean a spark!" He seemed to be flustered and trying hard to hide it. "Spork's sparks, they are known far and wide throughout Fair-to-middling Earth."

I give up. I took out my pouch and opened it.

He dropped the thing in.

"Thanks," I said.

Putting up the gang sign again, he said, "Laugh long and perspire, Easy Crotalus." He stepped aside to allow me to pass.

I headed toward the mountains.

The Knave

When I arrived at the battlefield the fighting was all but over. A lone man stood over his last dying enemy, wrenching a sword from his fallen foe's gut. Though he whispered, I heard the words clearly;

"That's for Sheagle, you son of a beagle."

I couldn't help but re-utter the name, "Sheagle?" The word brought to mind a female eagle.

He turned abruptly. A war cry and he was lifting the bloodied sword in my direction.

"Woah! I surrender, dude!" I held my hands up, showing I was unarmed and absolutely no threat.

He looked me over. "Are you the one...the wizard said would come?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, hoping it was the right answer.

He sheathed the sword. "I am Hector, protector of the nectar in this sector."

I lowered my hands. "I'm Crotalus. You, uh ... protect nectar?"

He waved his hands at the blood stained fields around us. "All that is sweet, fair, and wholesome...is mine to defend, from here on down to...Folsom?" He grimaced on the last word.

"Dude, what's with the rhyming?"

He frowned and seemed about to cry. "A spell is upon me, a curse oh so vile...has stolen my beloved and left my tongue beguiled." He began to sob hideously.

"And that makes you sad," I observed.

He pulled a handkerchief from his armor, wiped his eyes, and nodded. "This scrap of white cloth from her garment was rent. Now I use it to soak up my tears of lament." He held it out to me.

"What?" I said. "I sympathize and all, but uh... I really don't need a hanky right now."

"It's for your pouch, you witless slouch."

"Oh." I took out the crown royal bag and opened it. Hector blew his nose on the cloth before shoving it in.

Man, I hope I'm not going to have to touch this stuff.

"Thanks," I said. "But I'm curious. What happened to your beloved? Uh, Sheagle was it?"

A faraway look came over his face. "Jealous of my Sheagle, so fair and oh so sweeta ... another maid betrayed her--that horrid Gollumita!"

"Betrayed her?" I asked.

"And slayed her," he said.

"Man, that's heavy."

"As a ... Chevy," he said, grimacing again.

And I realized I was only torturing him by talking. For, whatever I said, he was forced to rhyme with or to answer in a rhyme. But still I had to know more.

"Why this battle? What happened here?"

"Gollumita's minions defiling the land. I slew them all with this sword in my hand." Then he realized he'd put the sword away, so he pulled it out hastily as if to show it to me.

"Oh, okay. Well I'm off to find Gollumita. Thanks for the handkerchief. I'm sure it will be of some...help...use... something."

"Farewell Crotalus, you valiant hero. May you find Gollumita and reduce her days to...zero." He frowned at that and began to walk away, shaking his head and crying quietly.

I turned toward the east. Or what I thought was east. For no other reason than it had always been my favorite direction. I started humming an old Iron Maiden tune as I stepped around the thousands of dead bodies and headed toward the setting sun.

I hoped to get far away before the bodies started to stink.