Thursday, February 14, 2008


John dived into the vile lake. It was really, really vile. I mean, you may think you’ve seen a vile lake before, but trust me, no lake could compare to this one in terms of pure vileness. It’s way off the Vile Scale, and that’s a very comprehensive scale.

Anyway, John sank down for a while, remembering that Wendel’s mother was said to live at the very bottom. Unfortunately, this took a long time, as the lake was almost as deep as it was vile. And it was extremely vile.

When he finally reached the bottom, he saw a lovely, suburban-style house: white picket fence, brick chimney, lawn ornaments – everything!

How strange, John thought to himself. I didn’t think they built houses underwater. In fact, I know they don’t build houses underwater. Something’s horribly wrong here. A man less smart than I would probably need to be cautious.

Putting his reservations aside, John deduced that this was almost certainly where the fiend’s mother took up residence. Bracing himself, he swam forward and knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door swung open, and sure enough, Wendel’s mother was standing there. Her countenance bore the unmistakable signs of fury, but she gestured for John to enter. He did, wondering for a moment why water wasn’t flowing in through the open door, which the woman then shut.

“What are you doing here, you murderer?” she demanded. “I was just baking cookies. Cookies…they were Wendel’s favorite!”

She began sobbing, falling to the floor in grief. John rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently; he had urgent business to attend to and needed to hurry.

“Listen, I don’t have time to play games. Oh, except Scrabble. There’s always time for Scrabble. But anyway, I’m here because I don’t really want to be sued right now. Sorry, but you’ll just have to drop the suit,” said John.

“You can’t tell me what to do! This is America, and I have the right to –”

“Correction: you have NO rights. This isn’t America, we’re in Denmark,” said John. “Moreover, I’m the king, so I can do whatever I want. In fact, I think I’m going to have you executed. Guards!”

John snapped his fingers, evidently waiting for some guards to show up. Of course, as he’d gone down into the lake alone, nobody came. Wendel’s mother raised an eyebrow. John scowled.

“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to use my incredible intellect to outwit you,” he said. “Follow me, wench, so I can have you executed!”

“All right then,” said Wendel’s mother. “But are you sure you don’t want a cookie first? They’re chocolate chip.”

She held out a plate of the now-finished cookies she’d been baking. John looked at them cautiously, remembering the Blizzard’s attempt to poison him, Bill, and Mischa back in Antarctica. He laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t like poison!” he spat. “Well, actually, I do like poison – very useful stuff, for assassinations and such. But I don’t like eating it, that’s for sure. Anyway, follow me.”
She cursed, and John knew he’d made the right decision. She followed John out of the house and together they swam back to the surface. When they got there, Bill and Jeannine were waiting.

“Jeannine, get some handcuffs on her. We’re going to bring this witch back to my palace so she can be executed for trying to sue me,” said John.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh, John?” asked Jeannine.

“No it isn’t,” said John. “Hurry up, cuff her before she escapes.”

“But I don’t have any handcuffs,” protested Jeannine. “You never told me to bring any, you know. What, did you just assume I’d have a pair of handcuffs on me?”

“Obviously. Anyway, fine, I guess we’ll have to make some. Bill! Take that rock over there and turn it into handcuffs,” ordered John.

“Sure thing, John!”

Bill ran over to the rock to which John had pointed and, using his alchemy skills, transformed it into a pair of shining silver handcuffs.

“Here you go! Oh, whoops, I’ve got myself trapped in them. Don’t worry though, I know how to get myself out,” said Bill.

He struggled for almost ten minutes before realizing he didn’t know how to get himself out at all.

“Oh, I guess I don’t,” said Bill, grinning cluelessly.

“Bill,” said John, “if you were any stupider, you’d – oh crap! Wendel’s mother escaped. I knew this would happen. Come on, we need to go look for her.”

“For who?” asked Bill.

“Whom! For whom!”

“Oh, okay! Who’s Whom?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

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