It did not come as a great shock to me, to look down upon the city of lights from the plane and see many lights, it did however shock me that we were in Wales and not England. I had no clue they were advanced enough to have electricity.
Wales was altogether a pleasant place, lots of hills, and sheep, and hills, and more sheep with an absolutely splendiferous amount of people (next to none).
And there it was, perched like a pigeon on a pigeon perch stood the famed castle. Rumoured to house not only all the gold in the world but some of the Zorkman-83b's as well, but that wasn't why I was here, well it kinda was but that doesn't sound as noble.
I was here to slay.
And not just in terms of my outfit, I did that subconsciously by just wearing my Nifty goggles. I was here to slay a dragon. And not just any dragon but the very dragon that those so called "welshians" glorified and boosted its boorish ego by putting on all their flags in the colour of my least favourite vehicle, the fire truck. What's the point of naming it a fire truck when it does not produce fire nor trucks? But I did my best to stay level headed and not take this clearly personal attack personally. But it was hard not to.
I jumped.
I soared through the sky and the ground came up to meet me quickly, I pulled two strings, one was my hamstring and the other the parachute string. I was yanked out of my dramatic falling into a less dramatic falling, my leg still hurt like hell though.
SHAbbam
I grimace and shake at the explosion. Rocks splutter around me so I sputter back. There in the middle of a billowing stream of fire bursts a scarlet dragon, its blood red scales shimmering in the light.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my mortal enemy"
"Fool! I am immortal! No man can kill me! And that's not some silly rule that can be bent by having a human that isn't a man kill me, I'm not some half rate dragon with no basic knowledge of how linguistics work. I've spent a considerable amount of my immortality with a genie so have quite the understanding of grammar and such things and would never have such an obvious flaw in the very thing that ensures my longevity."
"Pish posh" I stammer, asserting my dominance. At this moment I crumple to the ground, performing one of my smoothest ever landings, tucking into a roll, somersaulting three times (on purpose of course) before conducting a backflip in such a way that the Swedish "Team 60" posthumously awarded me with the Kungliga Svärdsorden.
"PISH POSH? WHY YOU PUNY PRICK! YOU PATHETIC POTATO! YOU PIGHEADED PACHYSANDRA! Why the absolute cheek of it! If I hadn't good reason not to, I'd gut you like the pencil you are!
To this I replied frankly (Though to be frank (and only for a minute as I quite like being myself) I had one thing on my mind (which was Asparagus) so I naturally handled the situation well in retrospect) "What reasons do you have to not kill me?"
"Well, I know that soon you will go... "hey bucko, shut your sweet lips, no spoilers"
"prepare for your timely death then" the dragon boomed
"At least take me to dinner first" I gagged.
"Have you seen the prices around here? Absolutely abhorrent, the other day I went to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch to get a Latte at a lil shop called "Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch Coffee Emporium" and it cost me $3.50 extra to add just one pickle, even if it was picked by the world's finest pickle picker I wouldn't want to be robbed of that much, it's not like this castle has cheap utilities."
"I can't even imagine!" I squeak innocently as I not so innocently reach for my blade, and not just any blade, but the famed blade of Cadmus, the same sword that was then passed to King Arthur, then to an incredibly hot ranger who had it fixed by some elves, and then to a German electrician who utilised its powers in 1989 to take down a wall. How it entered my strong, calloused and muscular hands is another story that's probably not worth telling.
I slipped it in. I pushed it in harder. As deep as I could.
"Stop it, that hurts"
"Sorry it's my first time, I don't think I ever stabbed someone before, so I appreciate the patience and if you have any feedback, please leave a review with some constructive criticism to I can build on this experience for next time"
The dragon hawked and tuahed fire, coating me in a thick layer. But lucky for me I had my dragon proof suit on so t was nothing more than a flesh wound.
I tapped a few buttons in my ear piece that was in my ear. It crackled to life.
I sung a tune
G# E G# A# C A# G# E D
"Copy that, releasing Tsar Bomba now"
I ran, I ran so far away, I just ran, I ran all night and day, I couldn't get away.
Thankfully, the dragon had his priorities right.
His current list was:
1. His enormous mass of the world's (and some of Zorkman-83b's) worth of gold
2. Self-preservation
3. Paying the castle's utilities on time
4. Listening to April Sun in Cuba
5. Eating a sheep on a hill
In a quick analysis of this list, the lusty dragon took flight, soaring upwards. He yanked Tsar Bomba right from the air and took it upwards, safely away from his precious holdings of gold. The time was ticking, ever upwards, past clouds, past bombs and then past stars.
Weightlessness.
The dragon was still. In the dark abyss that is space, the space between earth and not earth.
Kablammo
Sure, he said that no mortal man could kill him but I don't think he tested that on 50 megatons of nuclear energy. So, while he rested for eternity I did not, going straight for his flock of sheep.
After paying of the last of the castle's utility bills and filling my pockets and stomach with as much gold as I could stomach, I headed to bed. It had been a long day. The sun was gone and now so was I. I was going to need all of my strength for tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
The Pickle Dealer
HumorA thrilling and dramatic story about a man and his dedication.
