nce upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess named Esmerelda and she lived
in a beautiful castle high above the kingdom, Buhtkrack, where her father
was a sovereign and noble man. How she longed to be married to the stable
boy, Noal, for he was a handsome young man, despite his occasional habit
of blowing his nose on the heads of old ladies. But her father would not
think of his daughter marrying someone so common. She was to be married
to the son of King Goanadd, a harsh man who was known about the countryside
for beating his horse for no good reason and leaving the seat up, and never,
ever, ever, ever washing his own clothes but instead piling them on the
floor in apparent hopes they would be miraculously zapped clean by the
laundry fairy, and forcing total strangers to for some reason call him
"Earl, Conqueror of the Fish." Esmerelda desired Noal more than anyone
else in the world, and King Buhtkrack knew of her love for this man, so,
despite his gracious nature, he sent for the boy.
"I have a grave and perilous task for you," the king told him. "In the far reaches
of the kingdom, there lives a dragon that has slain a great many of our
sheep, stolen many of our most beautiful women, and run up Visa card charges
in my name. You can choose to go and slay this dragon, bestowing upon you
the gratitude of many gorgeous and attractive single women and bringing
nobility to your family name and honor to you and your blood line. Or you
can instead clean the disease-ridden, filth-encrusted mortar of the royal
bathrooms. I leave you with these choices."
A week later, Noal returned to the king and said, "I have cleaned the bathrooms as you
requested my Lord. Now how may I be of service to you?"
So King Buhtkrack once again offered for him to rid the land of the dragon adding
that since the last time, the dragon had been making long-distance calls when the
rates are really bad and talking for hours and the royal phone service
may get cut off. He then offered Noal the options of slaying the dragon
or cleaning the stables of every last speck of dung using only his own
toothbrush.
A week later, Noal returned yet again, saying to the king, "Pardon my breath, your
highness, but I have cleaned the stables using only my toothbrush. Now how may I
be of service to you?"
The king became furious and said, "Just go slay the freaking dragon and get the heck out
of my life you worthless coward!"
So Noal went
forth, and traveled through the dark night on his noble steed, riding fast
into the forest in which lived the dragon. He passed through a tiny village
mere miles from the dragon's lair when he met a great carriage pulled by
magnificent horses. It stopped for him and out stepped Prince Goanadd.
"Hail Prince Goanadd!" Noal said as he fell to his knees in reverence.
"You shall call me, Earl, Conqueror of Fish!" snapped the Prince, as was his way.
"Hail Earl, Conqueror of Fish!" Noal said, still on his knees.
"You have come to slay the dragon, have you not?" the Pri- er, I mean, Earl said.
"Yes, your majesty."
"Know that you will be devoured by its mighty jaws unless you plunge your sword deep
into the soft flesh of its belly and kill its evil heart."
"That is disgusting,your Highness!"
"I have told you to call me Earl, Conqueror of the Fish! How hard is it to remember
that?! Sheesh! You common people suck!"
"Forgive me Earl," Noal said.
And so Earl rode away and Noal continued his quest. He rode through the night, stopping
only once at South of the Border for some playing cards with nude women
on them and a picture of himself riding a giant cactus. At long last, he
found the opening of the dragon's lair. It was a dark cave, littered with
bones of many a maiden.
Fear began to fill Noal, for he knew if the dragon could easily kill an unarmed maiden
who had never fought a day in her life and was dainty and petite to a fault,
it surely could kill a strong and limber man armed with a large sword and
several years of training in hand-to-hand combat. He slowly crept down
the dark passage and into the main cavern, where the beast's enormous girth
filled the room. It lay, sleeping, its heavy breath shaking the ground.
First, Noal went to the maidens, and freed each of them from the heavy
ropes the dragon had somehow tied them up with which Noal thought was considerably
strange considering this dragon had no real hands or fingers.
"Perhaps he has a maid who ties maidens up for him. I imagine she gets good money for
doing that sort of thing. Probably a nice package with EOE certified training
and a dental plan and decent bonuses and a 401k. Heck, I might even get
into the maiden tying business if the money's right," he said to no one
in particular. No one, that is, except the sleeping dragon who awoke to
hear some strange man muttering about job benefits.
The dragon reared back its ugly head, and spat fire at Noal who leaped to the safety
of a nearby cave that happened to be lined in asbestos. Then, the dragon
stood on its hind legs, outstretched its impressive wings, and bellowed
forth a frightening shriek unlike anything Noal had ever heard, give for
the time he went backstage and heard Black Sabbath tuning their guitars.
But then, Noal spied the soft part of the dragon's belly, and quickly he
ran forward and jabbed his sword into it.
The dragon said, "Ouch!" and fell over dead.
Noal returned to the kingdom, triumphant and happy that he had finally brought pride
to his family name, and a great many beautiful maidens desired to have
carnal relations with him. But he choked to death on a poorly chewed piece
of meat at the great banquet and the Princess married Prince Goanadd anyway
and he turned out to be an all right guy so everyone lived happily ever
after.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
Peter and the Wagon
Once upon a time there lived a happy boy named Peter. Peter had his very own dog
and often he would teach it neat tricks like fetching the paper and playing dead and
frightening off the Internal Revenue Service Officials.