Why I Can't Have Nice Kings Read online

  Mercifully, Archibald motioned for a stop when a large cave came into view. “In order to answer your dapper friend’s question, my dear, I thought it best to show you how we gather our nourishment. Shortly, my men will scare out the great beasts and, with me in the lead, slay one of the mighty behemoths that feed our tribe.”

  “Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!” the men said as they thumped their weapons against the ground. Three of the smallest tribesman detached from the group and scurried into the cave.

  “Now, shortly, my dear, those men will draw the mighty yetis from their cave. I must warn you, they are quite massive, terrifying beasts. I will not hold it against you if you faint, as it is the way of the fairer sex.”

  I found it much more likely that she would faint from the smell of the tribesmen.

  Within moments, the small tribesmen bounced out of the cave like rabbits. I was deathly afraid of what was about to come—not a fear of the beasts themselves, but because there was no such thing as yetis in my world. I had no intention of including them in my future books.

  While this show had, so far, been tragically inaccurate with almost everything, the costumes and special effects had been of the highest order, so, when the yeti emerged, I was horribly disappointed. The beast was a few inches taller than Archibald and I, and significantly wider. It was covered in ragged, exceptionally dirty white hair that appeared to be coming loose.

  “Behold the yeti!” Chief Archibald said. “Is it not terrifying?”

  In response, the yeti let out a “terrifying” yawn. It then moved its hands upward, and the entire Left Moose party recoiled and assumed a defensive crouch. It languidly rubbed its eyes.

  “Men, encircle it. It is preparing its classic attack.”

  The men at the edge of our party began to jostle and push each other in order to get “volunteers” to move away from our protective formation and complete the encirclement.

  After several minutes, the yeti completed the rubbing of its eyes, smacked its lips slowly, and let out a few short yawns. The tribesmen in front of us continued their internal struggle, and eventually one of them was pushed forth to engage the beast. The man was completely naked save for a sock on his man parts and a boot on his head. He quivered and held his exceptionally old sword by the blade as he hesitantly stepped forward. When he stopped, his friends ran forward and gave him a push. The momentum carried him toward the yeti, and when he arrived, he barely remembered to swing his sword. The hilt caught the yeti in the side of its stomach, and the sword immediately shattered.

  The yeti stared at the spot of impact for a few seconds, then let out a yell that sounded like “Heeeeyyyyyy!”

  “My gods, it’s a tough one,” Archibald said. “Quickly, men, attack it as one. Show your future queen your tribal unity.” He then pushed a few of the men in front of him forward.

  The yeti, finally awakened from its stupor, grabbed the weapon of the tribesman closest to him—an umbrella missing its canopy—and beat the implement’s former bearer to death. The yeti then turned and clubbed all the other tribesmen who were too slow or unable to escape its reach.

  “Behold our bravery, my dear. See how we unify in the face of such a ferocious beast.”

  “Yes, it’s fantastic,” Jackal deadpanned.

  “What unity?” Cat said. “You’re all just cowering.”

  Being an expert on the subject, I almost interjected that this was some of the most pathetic cowering I had ever seen. They weren’t even scrunching up in a protective ball or hiding! Their weapons were still mostly in their hands, too. A truly great coward knows to drop anything resembling a weapon, or else your potential attacker might mistake you for a threat. I decided against pointing that out because someone might hit me for it.

  “We are not cowering,” Archibald said. “That is merely the legendary attack stance of the ferocious Left Moose tribe. It is, after all, the reason that our tribe is the terror of all of the other Moose tribes.”

  “Yarp,” Blackie said.

  “So, when are you going to attack, then?” Cat asked.

  “In a moment. At the present, it is not tactically prudent.”

  Tired from smacking tribesmen to death at will, the yeti sat down and rested its head on its knees.

  “Now looks like a good time,” Cat said.

  Chief Archibald pushed a few more of his men forward, but the yeti didn’t seem to notice. After taking a few tentative steps forward, one of the men tapped the yeti on the head with his weapon, a long stick with a beanbag tied to it. When the yeti’s body moved infinitesimally—probably from taking a deep breath—the tribesmen scurried back to the formation in terror.

  Archibald frowned. “It seems, my darling, that we have encountered a particularly ferocious one this day. It is unfortunate that you will not get to see the slaying of one of these magnificent beasts, but sometimes even our peerless bravery cannot overcome such overwhelming bad luck. Men, gather the dead and retire.”

  While I considered whether it was worthwhile to slay this yeti, Cat knocked over the tribesmen holding him and pushed toward the center of our band. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Give me back my sword, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “What a lark!” Archibald said. “To think you could personally match the bravery of my entire tribe. Besides, I cannot risk the safety of one of my beloved’s companions.”

  “Cat, don’t,” Wolf said.

  Cat quickly located the tribesmen holding our weapons and marched toward them. When one of them pointed his lawn rake at him, Cat grabbed it from his hands and snapped it in two. The tribesmen holding our supplies dropped them and sprinted off in the direction of the village. It all happened so fast that before any of the tribesmen could react, Cat grabbed his sword, pushed through them, and approached the still crouching yeti. Upon hearing the sound of Cat’s steady approach, the yeti stood to face him. I almost grabbed my sword from the ground but decided that after the pathetic display from the tribesmen, I wouldn’t really look all that heroic slaying the pitiful beast.

  In reaction to the yeti’s movement, the tribesmen grabbed their dead and ran down the hill in terror. “There’s that legendary discipline, men,” Archibald said. “Now, regroup back at the village. Songs will be sung of your brave deeds this day.”

  In under a minute, our party, minus Blackie, stood alone with the yeti. They had left our equipment, including the package, in a pile.

  “Cowards,” Cat said. “Now, it’s time to slay a yeti. I’ve always wanted to slay a yeti.”

  “Have you even heard of a yeti before?” Wolf said.

  “Well, no, but if I had, I’d have always wanted to slay one.”

  “That makes no sense whatsoever.”

  Cat raised his sword. “It’ll make sense when I slay it.”

  “Not really,” a booming voice said. “That sounds like a logical fallacy to me.”

  “No, it’s just common stupidity,” Wolf said.

  “I’ll show you stupidity,” Cat said. “with my sword!”

  “Truer words have never been uttered,” the booming voice said.

  Cat turned his back to the yeti and pointed his sword at Geoff. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

  Geoff jumped back. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Then, who did?”

  “That was me.” The yeti clapped its hands to get Cat’s attention. “Sorry if I’m not that mellow, but poor reasoning really irks me.”

  Cat scratched his forehead with the point of his sword. “You can talk?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to speak?”

  “You’re a yeti, and yetis don’t speak.”

  The yeti gave him a questioning look. “You just said you didn’t even know what a yeti was before now.”

  “Well, now that I do, I know they can’t speak.”

  The yeti scratched its head in confusion.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Wolf said. “He has that effect on people—and yetis.”
r />   “Why do you guys keep calling me a yeti?”

  “The tribesmen told us you were a yeti,” I said.

  “I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re not the brightest group out there. My name is Dave, by the way.” Dave held out his hand in friendship.

  Wolf shook his hand and introduced our group.

  “If you’re not a yeti, then what, pray tell, are you, sir?” Geoff asked.

  “I’m just a dude living in a cave.”

  “Men don’t have white fur,” Cat said. “Only yetis do.”

  “It’s a coat. It gets cold up here.” Dave pulled the coat off, revealing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

  “Have you abided here for very long?” Geoff said.

  “My scattered people have lived up here for generations. The tribesmen come up here every so often to hunt us.”

  “Why not move, if you are in such danger?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’re not exactly a threat. I don’t think they’ve succeeded in a generation. Their leader is wearing my grandmother’s brassiere, though, which is rather annoying.”

  “That is truly terrible,” Jackal said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, but she died of old age a decade ago. They took it from her grave.”

  “If they’re not successful in hunting your people, then where do they get their food?” Geoff said. “My apologies if this is a sore subject, but I am an amateur historian, and this question must be answered.”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Dave replied. “We do kill a lot of them, and they never leave a body behind.”

  “What do your people do for food, Dave?”

  “There are some rather large bats in the cave systems around here. Their meat is delicious and gluten-free.”

  “Where did your people come from?”

  “Geoff, I think you’ve pestered Dave the non-yeti enough,” Jackal said. “We have a rather important mission to complete.”

  “Let me write all of this down,” Geoff argued. “I need to keep careful notes. This will be a landmark discovery! Don’t reveal anything more, Dave, until I’m ready.”

  “My full name is Davefucius, by the way.”

  At least they were plagiarizing something that wasn’t copyrighted, I thought. This was still pretty awful, but it could be worse. They didn’t have copyrights in ancient China, did they?

  “So, are you a philosopher or something, Dave?” Wolf said. “Is that why you live up here in the isolated mountains?”

  “No, man. My people are actually all Parrot Heads. We’re all fans of Jimmy B—”

  “No way am I letting you finish that sentence,” I said. “I don’t want to be sued.”

  “I think he was going to say ‘uffet,’ Harry,” Cat said.

  “Thanks a bunch, Cat.”

  “It’s actually pronounced Boo-fay,” Dave said. “That’s how real fans pronounce it.”

  Oblivious to our conversation—and my gentle sobbing—Geoff finished his notes. “Two whole lost peoples. There are so many unanswered questions, and I, a simple but brilliant scribe, am the first to meet them. Why, I could write a book on my experiences with them. Geoff of the Hill People: With the Fanged Trio and Some Other Guy, I would call it. I can already picture the fame and wealth. I might even get to go on all of the talk shows.”

  I wisely decided not to question Geoff’s mention of talk shows. I just wanted to get away from there. “Geoff, we have to go. You can come back later.”

  “No, no. Someone else might arrive and get the entire story before I do. I must do this now.”

  “But—” Jackal attempted to say.

  “No, no. You heard him. He wants to stay.” I quickly tossed everyone their packs, except for Geoff. “He has some very important things to do, and so do we. Now, it was really nice working with you, Geoff, but, you know, important package to deliver and stuff.” I pushed Jackal down the hill in the opposite direction from the village. “This way, right, Dave?”

  “Yes,” Dave agreed. “You should see a lake at the bottom of the hill, and there are farms not too far from that.”

  “Harry, wait,” Jackal said. “We might still be able to talk Geoff out of this.”

  I shook my head. “You heard him. Dave’s people need to be studied, and he’s the only one who can do it. Isn’t that right, Geoff?”

  “Well, actually—”

  “See, he has to stay.” I continued pushing Jackal as fast as I could. “Now, there’s a lake down there. We can get all of this stink cleaned up. Won’t that be wonderful? You’ll be able to raise your hand to your face without retching.”

  “That does sound nice,” she said, “but I’d hate to leave Geoff.”

  “Oh, we’re too far away to hear him now, but I heard him say he’ll be happier there and that he’s just slowing us down, anyway.”

  “I didn’t hear him say that,” Cat said.

  “He also said that Cat is the greatest warrior who’s ever lived, and he’s jealous of all of his muscles.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m going to miss Geoff. He was a really great guy.”

  “I’m really going to miss Geoff, too,” Jackal said. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Besides, I heard him say how much he likes living in caves and roughing it.”

  Don’t say anything, OK? This was my only chance to ditch the terribly annoying Geoff, and I wasn’t going to have it ruined. If you mess this up for me, I’m not going to continue, and then you’ll miss out on more tales of my heroics.

  Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement.

  How Many Cyclops Does It Take to Change a Light Bulb?

  We finally left the barren, hilly terrain of the Terngarin Mountains to a stand-in for the lush forest that dotted the northern coast of Garandia. I never wanted to be near another hill, yeti, or oddly speaking person ever again, which will be unfortunate for my lispy French neighbor who likes to dress as Bigfoot when I get back home.

  A few miles in, we came upon a clear, wonderful pond.

  “Oh, thank The One,” Jackal said. “Some clean water. I have to get this stink off me.”

  “We all could, but I think the lady should go first,” I said.

  “Thank you, Harry. If you could all leave me some privacy, that would be great. Please make sure Cat doesn’t peek.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, stick girl,” Cat said. “You’re not my type. I prefer older women. Women with more experience.”

  “Women with more hair, especially around the mouth and legs,” Wolf said.

  “Exactly.”

  We gave Jackal some privacy and moved a respectable distance into the forest.

  “I can’t wait to get cleaned off and finally take my underwear off my face,” Cat said.

  “No one told you to do that,” Wolf said.

  “I thought we might need a disguise to get past the tribesmen.”

  “Their village was in the other direction.”

  “Oh, well. I like the feel of the wind on my junk, anyway.”

  “A monster!” Jackal’s scream pierced my brain and might have shattered a nearby tree.

  I felt guilty that the sound of a woman in peril was actually a relief, but pretty much anything was a relief after thinking about Cat. Cat trailed behind us with his underwear still partly stuck to his helmet. As we exited the woods, we could see a tall, one-eyed monstrosity staring from across the pond. Behind the cyclops was a thin man with a dark goatee and eyes that never seemed to stay focused on any particular spot for more than a second. Cat and Wolf both drew their swords and cautiously approached the cyclops from the edge of the pond.

  “We should kill this thing fast, or it might alert more of its kind,” Cat said.

  “Please, we mean you no harm,” the goateed man said. “We stumbled upon this woman by accident.”

  “The monster has him under his spell,” Cat said. “Watch out for the cyclops’ magic eye.”

 
“He’s not a cyclops,” the goateed man said.

  “Your trickery won’t work on us, monster,” Cat said.

  “Wait!” I said. “There aren’t any cyclops in this world!”

  “Just because no one has proven they exist,” Wolf said, “doesn’t mean they don’t.”

  “Yeah! Like dragons, or lawyers with morals,” Cat said.

  “I know they don’t exist because I created this world,” I said.

  “Are you saying that you are The One?” Wolf asked.

  That wasn’t a smart thing for me to say. While I had given very specific descriptions of The One’s earthly guise in my books, and I did have the rugged handsomeness and all-knowing eyes I had mentioned, I neither spoke in a Jamaican accent nor did I look Mongolian. They obviously didn’t care about accuracy, and I couldn’t risk feeding that further. I quickly ran through my knowledge of Vyenra to find some way out of this predicament.

  “I’m not him. I . . . err. . . can only speak to the Creator.”

  “You mean you’re a prophet?” Cat said.

  “Yes, I’m a prophet. That’s it.”

  “So, that’s why you appear to talk to yourself sometimes. You aren’t talking to yourself at all. You’re speaking to the Almighty!”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  Talking to myself helps me organize my thoughts. I’m not crazy. If the insanity of this place continued, I might become crazy, but at this point, I wasn’t crazy.

  “And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Wolf asked.

  “I don’t like to brag.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to brag about something like that?” Cat said. “If I could talk to The One, I’d tell everybody. Think of all the free stuff people would give you, and the ladies would be falling over themselves to be with you.”

  “Their expectations would be really high, and people would be bothering you all the time,” Wolf said. “I’ll bet that’s why you didn’t tell us, Harry.”

  Thank God Wolf had thought of that. The only thing I’d come up with was that accents interrupted my communion with my fake god. “Yes. As I was saying, cyclops—the monsters—don’t exist. This must just be an ugly, one-eyed man.”