Untitled #2

“Me?!?” squeaked Mandela in disbelief. “You seriously think I’m good enough to join the Knights of Eternal Goodness in their quest to save the kingdom of Ayrehedz from the evil dragon, Meenibumhed?”
“New rule, toots. See, some guy in a power suit up at the head office sent us this memo—long story short, we gotta have something called a ‘token female’ in every brigade of knights. You’re a female, right? And you did get an A in jousting and fencing this past semester, didn’tcha? None of the other broads wanted to do it—something about how the helmets would wreck their hair, or how the metallic silver look was, like, so 1999. So, congratulations, babe. You’re our token.”
“O-kay….where do I start?”
“Well, let’s start with lingo. First of all, it’s not ‘Knights of Eternal Goodness,’ it’s KEG for short. And another thing—the guys may give you a hard time, but you remember, you’re just as good as them. Sure, they may be bigger and stronger than you, but only you have the Supreme Mystical Power.”
“Oh, THAT?!?! Really, it’s all in the tongue…it just takes a little practice, and you gotta clench it between your cheeks. Honestly, it’s just a standard, run-of-the-mill bar trick.”
“No, Mandela. I’m not talking about tying a cherry stem in a knot in your mouth. The Supreme Mystical Power is potent enough to vanquish every known enemy within these parts, and beyond. But it will only reveal itself to you in times of dire need. Use it well, my son—er—daughter—er—why can’t I get used to this girl thing?”
“You really gotta kick that Star Wars fixation of yours, Joe.”

A plethora of thoughts played around in Mandela’s mind, as she walked out of Sir Joseph’s royal office. A retired knight gone to seed, Sir Joseph now managed the new recruits, a gaggle of feeble-minded, pimply teenage boys, fresh out of the “applied” program at the kingdom’s high school. Mandela knew that the retirement from the action-packed life of a knight, of partaking in royal tournaments, of venturing into parts unknown to tame ferocious beasts, of returning home from a successful voyage to be greeted by thunderous cheers, had been hard on old Joe. But, be that as it may, it was no longer possible for him to find armour plating large enough to accommodate his regrettably rotund beer belly. Nervous as she was about the prospect of such an adventure, she knew that Sir Joseph would give anything to trade places with her, so she just couldn’t bring herself to say no. Well, okay, I guess I could be a KEG, Mandela thought to herself, with growing enthusiasm. I had a cousin who single-handedly rescued a prince from a much fiercer dragon than Meenibumhed, and all she had with her was the charred paper bag on her back.

Mandela ambled into her bedchamber, and scrutinized herself from head to toe in her full-length mahogany mirror. A slight, skinny girl stared back at her, dwarfed even more by her baggy army-surplus camouflage pants. Her cobalt-blue hair framed her silver-studded face, its choppy layers brushing the straps of her midriff-baring black tank top, which exposed the soft, porcelain flesh of her navel, pierced through with a menacing-looking metal spike. Well, I was never cut out to be a princess….maybe it’s for the best.

The next morning (okay, it was more like mid-afternoon), five iron-clad figures left the castle, to begin a journey from which they knew not whether they would return; Al, Butch, Tiger, Ramrod, and, the smallest one, Mandela. The other knights were, unfortunately, “indisposed,” because of a recent situation involving several discarded cases of Budweiser that the king’s cheapskate brother, Fonso, had brought over as a gift. Onward they forged, through the thick underbrush, coming face to face with hideous creatures, like goblins, giant spiders, and mysterious, black-robed men riding on hostile-looking charcoal steeds.
“Hey, Al, it was sure nice of your mom to get us a TV and VCR for the Range Rover,”
“Yeah, and it came with a free copy of Lord of The Rings!!!”
“Sweet, dude!!!”
“Dude, SWEEEET!!!!”
“DUUUUDE!!!!!”
“SWEEEEET!!!!”
“Hey, guys, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re here!” Mandela motioned towards a neatly mowed lawn, with an attractively-lettered sign, engraved with daisies, that read “Welcome to Meenibumhed’s Lair.” A quaint-looking cobblestone path led to the round, bubble-gum pink door that stood just inside the lip of the huge, gaping cavern that protruded from the side of the mountain.
“Aww, man!!! Do we have to get out now? It was just getting to the part with Galadriel, and she’s hot!!!”
“Ramrod, don’t be silly. The VCR has a ‘pause’ button for a reason!......Yeesh, men!!,” Mandela muttered to herself.

Reluctantly, the ungainly procession clambered out of the truck, which they miraculously managed with Butch (who had a fatal attraction to fried Twinkies), getting stuck between the bucket seats and the door frame only twice. They clanked their way up the path, towards the sickening, Barbie-esque door of the dragon’s cave.
“Gee, these paving stones aren’t doing our metal boots any good. Why did that inconsiderate dragon have them installed in the first place?”
“Oh, pipe down—you call yourself ‘Tiger?’”
“Hey, you’re pretty feisty for a girl!!!”
“Am not!!!”
“Are too!!!!”
“Am not infinity!!!”
“Are too infinity plus one!!!”
“Am not infinity-finity, stamped it, double-locked it, touch blue to make it true!!!”
“Damn, that girl’s good!!!”
Knowing that the opportunity to sneak up on the dragon with catlike stealth was long gone, Mandela resignedly reached out and rang the electronic doorbell. A high-pitched, lisping voice crackled over the intercom.
“Yeth, who ith it?”
“Um, we’re the Knights of Eternal Goodness, KEG for short, and we came to, well, uh, finish you off.”
“Jutht a minute, I’ll have to check my thchedule….do you have an appointment?”
“Aww, just get out here and face us like a man!!!” interjected Butch impatiently, conveniently forgetting his recent Twinkie-induced fiasco.
BLAM, thump, BLAM, thump!!! The ground shook as the dragon approached on all fours. Suddenly, the great circular door swung open, to reveal a gigantic, hideous reptile, as shockingly pink as the door from which he had emerged. His spine was clad with a series of mauve spikes, which would have appeared almost comical, had they not been encrusted with what appeared to be the blood of previous attackers.
“HALT, WHO GOES HERE?!?! I AM THE GREAT MEENIBUMHED!!!! BOW BEFORE—Aww, shuckth, I can never do that evil villain voithe for very long…..I thuppothe I should, like, terrorithe you, at leatht for a little while. It’th not like I can eat you, my clawth are too clumthy to remove all that armour, and heaven knowth you can’t put metal in the microwave. Bethideth, I’m watching my waithtline.”
“Man, this is pathetic!!!,” muttered Butch to Al.
“You’re right, I am pathetic!!! I’m the wortht evil dragon EVER!!! I wanted to be an interior decorator, but no, my parenth told me I had to carry on the family buthineth!! And now look at me, I’m not the thlightetht bit thcary……maybe it’th the lithp, maybe it’th thethe gosh-darn pathtel thcales…..and that thutff on my thpikes?!?! It’th jutht ketchup!! My parentht put it on me to make me look intimidating!!! I’m a total failure!!!” Tears welled up in his great dragon eyes.
“Aww, Meenibumhed, it’s okay!! You know, Sir Joseph told me you were 300 years old, that’s at least eighteen in human years. Why don’t you just tell your parents that you’d get more pleasure decorating than terrorizing?”
“You know, that’th a great idea!! What’th your name, young lady?”
“I’m Mandela. Hey, that reminds me, you must not like being called Meenibumhed that much, how ‘bout I just call you MB.”
“MB it ith!!”
“Hey, man, let’s get outta here….I wanna go back to the truck and check out Galadriel some more,” grunted Ramrod. The four male knights nodded in agreement and followed him.
From that day on, the people of Ayrehedz never again feared Meenibumhed. In fact, he was so grateful to them, he even offered to renovate the entire castle, because, after all, the stone and tapestry look was, like, so 1499!!!
So they all lived happily ever after, in their bright, avant-garde, open-concept castle, all because of the great Princess-turned-KEG Mandela’s Supreme Mystical Power to spread LOVE, not hate!!! :)

~*The End*~