CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

LXV
Rupert was frantically parrying John’s sword with his bowie knife; he feared that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer, as John’s sword was magical and his knife, well, wasn’t. It was also much smaller.

“Give it up, Mischa’s friend. You can’t beat me!” demanded John.

“I killed your zombies, and now I’ll kill you!” retorted Rupert.

Dodging a particularly powerful thrust, Rupert dived to the ground and desperately tried to sweep John’s feet out from under him before realizing John was on a horse. The horse, annoyed, kicked Rupert in the face, knocking him unconscious. Mischa was in trouble.

“I am in trouble, Comrade. Because I have no more Comrades!” he said. “Wait a minute, who am I even talking to?”

“That’s whom, you foolish fool!” yelled John, his horse galloping toward Mischa once more. All of the zombies were now dead, the last one having eaten his own brain (with some difficulty). It was now vis-a-vis, one-on-one, man-to-man – Mischa versus John. The final showdown.

John prepared a mighty strike, one that would sever Mischa’s head from his body if it connected. Mischa raised a white flag in defeat (he always carried a white flag with him, just in case) and fell to the ground in fear, arms over his head. John had won!

Smirking, he raised his sword victoriously and started to take a victory lap around the stadium. He had overcome his rival in combat, proving that he was the superior man; Cyprus would be his!

The crowd cheered, as all of them had been rooting for John. People just didn’t like Mischa. But there was one person in the audience who wasn’t very happy: Jeannine. Although she feigned happiness at John’s win, she was secretly terribly upset at having lost more or less any chance with John.

Bill didn’t realize what was happening, having eaten far too many hot dogs. He was now suffering from acute gastrointestinal pain, which he thought he’d cure by eating more of them.

John was just finishing up his lap when all of a sudden, his horse tripped over the corpse of one of the zombies, unseating John and flinging him sharply forward. He fell violently onto his head, cracking his skull and twisting his neck. He was dead.

An even more thunderous roar now erupted from the crowd. John had won the battle but lost his own life in the process! What a Pyrrhic victory! The winner was now…Mischa.

Mischa, of course, was stunned. On the one hand, he was happy to have won – now he could marry Cyprus. On the other, he was a little upset that his friend had been killed. But on the third, he realized that he had nothing to feel guilty about, as he hadn’t actually been responsible.

Jeannine burst into tears, and so did Bill (because his stomachache was getting even worse). So did Josiah, actually – tears of laughter.

“Oh, that’s rich. That’s great! John is dead, so Mischa wins; but because Mischa actually lost, I don’t have to give him anything,” he chuckled. “This is the best outcome possible!”

“The only thing better than this would be an outcome that also puts your evil plan into action, wouldn’t it, Josiah?” asked Cyprus. “I mean, a better outcome was technically possible.”

“Well, I guess so. But who really cares? I’ll be able to carry out that plan unhindered now! John was the only one who could stop me, and now he’s dead. This is the end!”

Or…was it?