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.

Lady of the Woods

In hindsight it should have taken me a lot less time to find the Lady of the Woods, but, since King Richard had been no help whatsoever in that regard, I didn't recognize the help when it did come.

And it was almost instantaneous, now that I think about it. As soon as I got out of my hiding place and back on a road, I was greeted by butterflies. At first I thought, Cool. A bunch of butterflies. But after two days I started wondering, Why do these danged butterflies keep flying into my face?

Because that was what they were doing. Fluttering against my eyes and tapping against my nose and cheeks as hard as they could. At the beginning of the third day, when I got up from where I'd slept, I noticed they were all sitting on the ground.

Maybe if I move real slow, they'll stay there. Then I noticed something strange. The butterflies seemed to be forming a shape. Wow! What a neat coincidence, I thought. If you look at it a certain way it almost looks like an arrow pointing straight into the woods. Then I realized: That is an arrow pointing straight into the woods! They're trying to lead me to their Queen! I headed into the forest.

After another two days of following the butterflies, I finally saw her. She was sitting on a bridge over a peaceful stream. The sight of her was beyond description, so I'm sending a picture she allowed me to take with my cellphone:

She shimmered like the purest diamond, and her smile was radiant. The butterflies swarmed around her as if frolicking in the presence of bliss itself. And when she spoke to me, her lips did not move, other than to smile even more benevolently. Her voice was projected directly into my mind. It was like warm honey slowly coating my very brain.

:You know, it's one thing to refuse to ask directions. But to ignore them when they're beating you in the face:

"This place is new to me," I said in my defense. "I didn't know butterflies were like little GPS signals."

She laughed in my mind, and the sound was like butterflies fluttering through my synapses. "Ow," I said. "That kinda hurts."

:Sorry, you really are out of your element, aren't you: She reached out a hand. :Here:

I noticed then a ray of light playing along the strand she held in her fingers.

:A lady's thread: she explained. :You'll need it:

I took the pouch from my belt loop and opened it. She gently tucked the thread inside.

"Is that the thread you used to sew that really cool outfit?" I asked.

:It is indeed. But it's not merely a thread. It is a hair from my head. A small portion of my magic lies within that fiber:

My eyes widened, and I looked into the pouch. The hair actually glowed, illuminating the inside of the bag. "Cool," I said.

:Go now, champion. Fair-to-middling Earth needs you: She stood and took her cloak from her shoulders. She wrapped it around her arms and head like a veil, turned in a circle, and for a moment she was camouflaged against the forest background. I blinked involuntarily, and she was gone.

"Hey," I yelled. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Though my searching eyes never found her again, I heard her voice one last time in my head.

:When the time comes, you'll know what to do:

I looked all around. The Queen was gone, the butterflies were gone, and, once again, I realized I had no idea what I was doing. I also had no idea which direction led out. So I decided to keep moving forward. Over the bridge. Deeper into the forest. I noticed then, on the horizon, a column of black smoke. I heard also the not so distant sounds of battle.

Against my better judgment I headed toward the sound. Destiny, here I come.

To be, or not to be...

After about two days of wandering aimlessly, I saw the castle spires. I also saw that I was going to have to start asking directions if I was going to make this a short adventure like Cletus had promised. (I was beginning to have serious misgivings about that guy.)

Soon I found a well trodden road and followed it all the way up to the castle. Once there, a guard standing by the drawbridge beckoned me in. "The King has been expecting you," he said. "One thing, however. Try not to anger His Majesty. He is not known as King Richard the flare-hearted for naught."

I was ushered into a brightly lit throne room. There was the sound of fanfare which sounded suspiciously like the theme from '2001: A Space Odyssey.' Either that or 'Also Sprach Zarathrustra', by Richard Strauss. Then the guard departed and was replaced by a man who introduced himself as the King's Herald. I was led to a long red carpet.

From across the room came a booming voice. "Whom seeketh an audience with mine royal self?"

The King's Herald announced in a loud voice:

"The champion's name is Crotalus, your Highness." The Herald looked me over. "Weighing an estimated 12 and a half stones and hailing from parts unbeknownst. Shall the King at this time, suffer said champion an audience?"

"He may indeed approacheth the throne," bellowed the King.

"Art thou ready?" the Herald asked me.

"Uh, yeah...I guess so," I said.

"Then let us getteth it on!" The Herald nudged me forward. I would walk the rest of the way alone.

Once I stood before the throne, the King looked down at me and said, "To be or not to be...the man. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler of the King to cause his foes to suffer the slinging against the ropes and then the outrageous figure-four leg lock, or to break their arms against the turnbuckles, and by opposing, end them. Or to put them in the sleeper hold. To sleep, perchance to dream."

Since I had no idea what he was saying, I said, "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Now then," he said. "Poseth thine request."

"Right. Uh. I think I was supposed to get something from you." What was it that Stanley had said? Then I remembered. "A King's bright glint. That's it."

He nodded. "Approach and I shall bestow it upon thee."

I stepped up to the throne and held open my pouch. King Richard removed a sequin from his royal robe and dropped it into the Crown Royal bag.

Wow that was easy, I thought. Then, to save myself some time, I said, "And I'm supposed to meet the Queen now, I think."

He frowned. "The Lady of the Woods is the only Queen within three days ride."

"But...uh. I figured the Queen would be married to the King. I mean, that's how it's usually done. Right?"

He laughed. "The Nature Lad is indeed not boundeth in wedlock. Nay, this dragon-flying, gold-inlaid chariot riding, handsome son-of-a-catapult exceedeth the capacity of any one woman to satisfyeth."

Though I didn't understand half of what he'd said, I couldn't supress a brief laugh. "Did you just call yourself the Nature Lad?"

He glared. "The King does not cheweth his cabbageth twiceth!"

"What?" Once again, I was flummoxed.

"Getteth thou to the squareth circleth! I would poundeth upon thine face!"

Then I noticed the Herald had hurried to my side. "Better doeth as he saith."

"But I don't know what he saith...uh, said."

"Do not retaliateth," the Herald warned. "He is, after all, a King."

Just then a wrestling ring slowly emerged from a side wall. King Richard bounded from his throne and took off his robe, flinging it in my face. He then wrapped it around my head and dragged me into the ring.

The first blow came while my head was still covered.

"Dang it, that hurt!" I yelled. Though I'm sure the sound was muffled by the robe. "I give up already!"

He hit me again and took the robe from my head.

"Cometh on, thou foul villain!" He chopped me hard across the chest. "Woooo-eth!"

Wooo-eth? I staggered, but didn't fall. The King smiled and climbed atop a turn-buckle.

I noticed then that, beyond the red carpet, the door to the throne room was still open. I scurried from the ring just as he launched himself at me. As he hit the mat, I ran for the door.

I chanced a look back and heard the Herald ask, "Shouldest we pursueth, Your Majesty?"

"Nay, let him be," King Richard said, standing up again. "He withstoodeth the royal chop and hath proven himself a worthy champion." Then he yelled after me, "Godspeed Crotalus! Godspeed!"

*************

I got to the forest and hid myself. I looked in the bag and then back at the castle in disgust.

All that for a lousy sequin. Man I was gonna have a few things to say to Cletus if I ever saw him again.

Another word from the Hobbits

We're about to go jukin' and decided to turn y'all onto some real music. We're heading off for Hiram's Top Hops tonight, since our favorite band, Redneck Gamgee, is playing. They do a mean cover of our favorite song. Enjoy the original.

That is all,
Frito and Samdumb

Surely you jest.

When I came to, the inside of the barn looked like the inside of a barn. No neon sign, no bar, no table or chairs, and no patrons. Just me lying on the dirt staring up at the rafters. So, after much internal debate (which I won't go into, since I obviously lost), I got up and stepped outside.

Immediately my senses were assaulted. Though this was still the world I had left behind, somehow it wasn't. Things were more... well more of what they were always meant to be but had never really been until this very moment. It was like the knob on reality had been cranked to eleven. Colors were more vibrant, scents more pungent, and sounds more distinct. I began to walk in no particular direction.

A short while later I heard it. A jingling, like spare change in baggy pants and a wind chime in the breeze. Then, for the briefest moment, it sounded like a wind chime in baggy pants and spare change in the breeze. Or at least what I thought these things might sound like.

The jingling came closer, until he stepped out of the forest, and I stared him in the face. His was the strangest visage. And after a moment of scrutiny, I realized why. This was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning. Well, except for the black and white patterns marked upon his skin. And his clothing was unlike anything I'd ever and secretly never wanted to wear.

He wore a pirates scarf and a captain's hat. A black T-shirt, with red underneath. He wore bicycle shorts and knee-high stockings; one white, the other black. And his shoes were pointed with bells all a-dangling.

"Who are you?" I managed to whisper.

He laughed. "Stanley," he said. "But you can call me 'the midnight rambler'."

"The midnight rambler?"

"Yeah, sounds cool doesn't it. I used to be a pro-wrestler, and that was my ring name. The Midnight Rambler! Or M-R for short. And mister M-R if you wanted to show due respect. But then everybody started calling me mister mister and, well that was just stupid so I left it all behind and became a professional jester instead."

"And what does a professional jester do?" I dared to ask.

"Oh, you know. Laugh at the King's jokes, provide misdirection in His Majesty's courts to keep foreign ambassadors off kilter, fight against men dressed as bats. That sort of thing." He winked at me. "Oh yeah, and rattle off rhymes that may or may not hold keys to the path ahead."

He had my attention. "Tell me."

"Of course. Now listen close..."

And thus he spoke:

"A stone that greets the wizard's words, a pouch to hide the poison slow, the sound of clown, a king's bright glint, a lady's thread, a knaves lament, an elven spark, a dragon's seal, then bind it all with poet's zeal."

I frowned. "That's it? That makes no sense whatsoever."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, we're practically spoon feeding you these clues. A pouch to hide the poison, a stone that greets...ah dagnabbit! It's the tooth you got in that Crown Royal bag there. Those are the first two lines, for cryin' out loud. I'm telling you what you can expect to get from the folks you encounter along your quest. The talisman that will help you defeat Gollumita."

I slowly realized what he was saying. "Oh. Yeah...stone that greets... that makes sense. I suppose."

"You're not welcome you know! I'm only doing this because Cletus threatened to spit in my hat if I didn't." And then he hopped back into the forest and was gone.

I was about to walk away, when I saw something twinkle on the ground. I bent over and picked it up. It was a bell from the Jester's shoe. I put it into my pouch in case I ran into him again.

Then I resumed my aimless trek as I wondered aloud;

"The sound of clown... now what could that mean?"

First stop: Hiram's

The first place we stopped was ubiquitous to say the least. Or the most. I couldn't be sure, since I didn't remember exactly what the word meant. All I really knew was that I was thirsty.

Thankfully, so was Cletus. "Need me a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster." And so we turned toward a dilapidated tobacco barn. I was reluctant to go in, since I knew what dilapidated meant.

"Uh, Cletus," I said. "This is an old barn. So old it's about to fall over."

"Held up by magic," he said. "Won't fall, not today anyhow."

The door opened and a rotund man in a grey pin-stripe suit beckoned us in.

"Go ahead son, your explanations are in there." Cletus gave me a small push, then followed me in and closed the door behind us.

The place was larger on the inside than on the outside. There was a long bar above which a neon sign proclaimed 'Hiram's Top Hops'. Patrons packed the place, dressed in all manner of attire, while a trio of rejects from the renaissance festival sang 'Safety Dance' and strummed mandolins and a banjo.

The rotund man went to a card table and sat in a folding aluminum chair. Cletus and I joined him. As we settled in a tall, darkly clad figure approached. One word came to mind:

Nazgul.

"Name your poison," the figure said, in a whisper that grated like sandpaper rubbed slowly across your teeth.

"Gargle Blaster," said Cletus.

"Same!" blurted the rotund man.

"Uh," I stammered. "...Same?"

"Three draughts of death, coming up," the creature rasped, before floating away.

I turned to Cletus, "Was that a--"

"Nazgul. Yup. Shame they all ended up waitin' tables here. But you know, weren't nobody else in a thousand years gonna hire 'em. Well, except for Hiram, here."

I blinked. "Huh?"

The rotund man extended a hand. "Hiram Howard, Howaya?"


I shook his hand. "Uh, fine."

"Now let's get to what's next. You're our boy, see? And what you gotta do is complete a quest. Yeah, that's it, a quest!" He cracked his fingers and pulled a deck out of his coat pocket. Shuffled the cards and started dealing.

I couldn't figure out the game, since he said nothing as he dealt only to me.

The first card was a joker. Then a king, a queen, a jack; all of diamonds. I thought I was onto a great hand until he turned up an elf with a bad bowl-cut, followed by a dragon, and finally a toad-faced woman. "Uh, I'm not into that Tarot witchcraft stuff," I said.

"This here's not Tarot, it's Torat." Hiram pronounced it 'toe rat'. "Now pipe down and listen up." He pointed to the joker first. "The Jester, see? That's the first one you gotta run down. He'll give you something to help you on your quest. Then the king, the queen, the knave."

"You mean the jack?"

"Is that what they're callin' it now? I knew a knave named Jack once, but this one here, he's Hector."

"Hector?"

"Hector, knave of diamonds. Everybody knows that." Hiram glanced at Cletus. "You sure this is the One?"

"Yup," said Cletus.

The Nazgul floated back to our table. "Your drinks." He moved them from a tray to our table. "Enjoy."

Cletus downed his greedily. Hiram took a long pull. One eye squinted down and he started chomping from one side of his mouth. "N'gahaahhaahh."

I looked at mine, dubious of the green froth and foul vapors rising from it.

"Good-Gargle-Blasters that's a good Gargle Blaster!" Hiram finally said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, the knave. Find all three of those, they'll help you out. Then you'll be questioned by the elf, answer correct and he'll help too. Then you're gonna have to deal with the dragon, but don't worry, his deals are on the level. Each of these guys'll give you something to help you conquer the power of the One Key Ring. A talisman or key to victory, if you will. Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck. And after that you should be ready for her." He plopped a meaty finger down on the toad faced woman.

"Gollumita?" I presumed.

"Gollumita," Hiram said. "She's got the One Key Ring, and you're gonna need all nine keys to stop her."

Mentally, I made a quick inventory of all he'd said. "You've only mentioned six people, not counting Gollumita." I looked from Hiram to Cletus. "Unless you guys are giving me something."

Cletus smiled, exposing his brown teeth. He reached in and snatched one out. "Here." He held it out to me.

"Uh, what exactly will I do with that?" I sat there, unwilling to touch it.

"First of all," Hiram said, taking an empty Crown Royal bag from somewhere in his coat. "Put it in here." He held the bag open. Cletus dropped his tooth in. "As for what you'll do with it, you'll know when the time comes."

Hiram passed the bag to me. "From Cletus you got to here, and you got that tooth. I've given you the basics of your quest and this bag. Now get moving. The fate of Fair-to-Middlin' earth hangs in the balance."

He and Cletus stood. I cinched the Crown Royal bag up. "Uh, that's still only eight people. You said there were nine talisman...er, keys."

Hiram smiled. "You can count. Good. You already have the ninth key, in here." He tapped me on the head. "It's the spell that will finally defeat Gollumita and secure the power of the One Key Ring."

"I don't know any spells. Besides, I told you I'm not into witchcraft."

"It aint no incantation," said Cletus. "That's right, I know a few big words. Think of it as a recipe. Or a prayer. A proverb. Something like that. But understand that we can't tell you what it is 'cause we don't know. But rest assured, you know it."

I sighed. "If you don't know it, then how do you know I know it."

"Cause," said Cletus. "You're the One. And the One is the one what knows the spell to undo Gollumita."

"I thought you said it wasn't a spell." I frowned. "Whatever." Then I tied the bag to my belt loop. "So are we ready?"

Cletus shook his head. "Not goin' any further with ya, son. You might see me later, but for now you're on your own."

I turned to Hiram.

He laughed. "I got a speak-easy to run. Speakin' of which, the ingredients to this drink don't come cheap. I'm just a wee bit offended that you didn't even taste it."

"Oh, right. Sorry," I said. I reached down and picked up the drink. Took a tentative sip.

Suddenly my brain felt like it had been smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick. I felt myself falling as the world went black.

And Now a word from the Hobbits...

Yep, it's us, the hobbits. Frito and Samdumb. We'll be running the show for the time being. As you can see, we've updated the blog using the text messages that Crotalus sends us, and we've somewhat successfully updated the look.

One thing we've been told though, is that if you're using Internet Explorer the graphics don't quite line up, making the little sword up in the corner look like it's broken or something.

To fix this problem, we suggest you stop using that piece of crap browser and switch to Firefox.

That is all,

Frito and Samdumb

A Hint of Things to Come

During that first day, Cletus told me that my blog was being updated by hobbits. So I decided to keep a journal of my adventure by using my cell-phone to text everything that happened and send it to them. (Thus, did I recount the previous blog posts. And I trust that henceforth all my texts will find their way to the blog.) Now with that little piece of explanation out of the way, allow me to proceed:

After another day of walking in a silence that was only interrupted by Cletus either spitting or biting off a mouthful of tobacco, he finally spoke up.

"Listen close, boy, what I'm about to tell you might save your skin."

I leaned in, eager to glean even a shred of what this was all about. "I'm listening," I prodded.

"SPF 50. Never settle for less." He guffawed. I'd read about guffawing, but until now had never actually heard it. I wondered how he kept from choking to death on the wad in his cheek.

I gritted my teeth. "Where are we going? If this is going to be like season three of Lost, I'll turn around right now."

He spat. "Settle down, pardner. I'll tell you all you need to know. First thing is the gold that's been pulled outta that mountain and reforged."

"The One Ring," I said.

"Not quite." He took a bite from the leaves in his fist. "The mold for that was destroyed, to keep it from being reforged. But Saw-Run he don't give up easy. He cast that metal again, just used a little different mold this time."

I hadn't expected that. "So what are we dealing with?"

"Well, first let me say that you was chosen 'cause of that blog title you got."

"A key turning?"

"Exactly. I 'spect it makes you an expert on what we're looking for."

"A key. It's the One Key, we're looking for isn't it!" I was getting excited. "We'll have to wrest it from some Gollumish creature and cast it into the fires of--"

"Hold on there, hoss!" he interrupted. "First of all, we aint tossin' it back in there. He'll just fetch it up again. And second of all it aint no key."

"What is it then?"

"A devious instrument of pure evil. Benign in appearance, but deadly just the same. Not a key, but the next best thing. A key ring."

"A key ring?" I was flummoxed. I had read about being flummoxed, but until this moment had never experienced it firsthand. (I can't adequately describe it, other than to say it's kind of like climbing into the back seat of your friend's car and realizing that it's not his car, but the one parked in front of his car. And he and the rest of your buddies are sitting behind you, laughing their butts off.) I said it again, "A key ring??"

"Yeah, but thankfully it truly is the One Key Ring. He couldn't salvage enough gold to remake the other rings."

"Okay." I tried to get used to the idea. The One Key Ring. "And I'm guessing it's not Gollum we're to take it from."

"Now you're catchin' on. It's his second great, great, great, grand cousin twice removed. And she's a girl. Gollumita."

"Gollumita?"

He spat. "Don't hear too good, do ya son?"

I started to turn around. "I think I'll go back to my family and take back my blog."

He grabbed my arm. "Can't. Fair-to-Middlin' Earth needs you."

"Don't you mean Middle Earth?"

He furrowed his bushy brows at me. "Boy that passed with my great great great grandaddy, Gandalf. This here is Fair-to-Middlin' Earth. Not the Middle, not the Last, not the best, but not the worst either. Fair-to-Middlin'. Get yerself a dictionary if you need to."

My head was spinning, but somehow I had become inexplicably curious. Fair-to-Middlin' Earth. Gollumita. The One Key Ring. I was going to get to the bottom of this.

Cletus smiled as I fell in step beside him again.

The Wizard

He didn't look like a wizard. Not exactly. Oh, there was the beard and wizened visage, but instead of a robe he wore overalls and instead of smoking tobacco in a long stemmed pipe, he chewed (which had partially dyed his white beard a nice shade of brown). His hat was of straw and not the least bit pointy. And instead of a walking staff, he carried a handful of cured tobacco leaves, from which he'd chomp off a bit to reflavor the ever-present wad in his jaw.

"Boy, you about ready?" he asked, by way of introduction.

I stood there with my door and my mouth wide open. Finally I said, "Ready for what?"

He cackled and spat a brown stream on my front porch. "Your destiny, what else?" He turned and started walking.

Compelled to follow, I temporarily closed the door on my former life. "What about my family?" I asked.

"You got a right smart gal there pardner, she'll be fine. Besides, this won't take long."

I caught up with him and asked, "What's your name, anyway?"

He smiled, exposing four or five brown teeth. "Cletus. And that's all you need to know for now."

I followed him down the road.

HELP!!!

Hobbits have taken over my blog! Middle-Earth is upon us. Sauron is reborn, the One-ring reforged. Oh where will this journey lead?