Abs Killstrong
The setting sun burnt
the horizon and lit the sky on fire as Abs Killstrong, perched on the side of
Mount Bigpointything, looked out at the rolling purple hills and laughed. An
army of miniature demon-werewolves was advancing on him. Behind him was rock.
Lots of rock. Millennia old rock. Ablaze. Not the grass or the trees or anything
like that. This mountain had none of the sort. The stone itself burned. It was
working with the demons. The sweat dripped down his shirtless, toned chest. His
long blonde hair, dangerously close to getting singed, whipped around in the
wind. His loins remained snug in his pants.
“I need to
find a way to stop these damn werewolves,” said Abs, looking towards the
heavens.
Off in the
distance, he saw a group of birds flying his way. He swung his bow around his
incredibly thick neck and prepared to strike. He leapt into the air and plucked
one of them out of the sky, by its beak. A minute later when he landed, he
pulled an arrow out of the quiver on his back, “attached” the bird to it by
jamming it down the fowl's throat, turned around to set the creature on fire,
turned back around to the approaching horde, aimed and threw the flaming
bird-arrow at his attackers.
The
projectile impaled one of the demon-werewolves between the eyes, killing him
instantly. His lifeless body ignited causing the other beasts to become
distracted and come over to check on their fallen friend. They all lit up too.
“Success!”
yelled Abs. “Take that, you hellions!”
The
miniature demon-werewolves looked up at him and returned to their chase.
“Oh,
right. Demons like fire.”
He was out
of arrows, having only brought the one on this journey, but looked for more
birds. If he threw them hard enough they’d be just as good as arrows. But the
birds had wised up and moved on.
Abs looked
at his feet. The one section of the mountain that wasn’t on fire, and the spot
he had fortunately decided to stand on, was now getting smaller by the second.
He looked over the edge. The werewolves had stopped at the base – unable to get
a good footing – and waited for him to jump.
“Guess
it’s time to call in the big guns,” he said, looking into the sun. “Here boy!”
Four giant
paws fell from the clouds, attached to an equally giant dog. He was headed
right for Abs on the mountainside.
“No, you
idiot! Don’t land on me! The ground! Land on the ground.”
The dog,
Sergei, panicked.
“Okay,” he
said. “I can do this.”
Sergei
shifted his weight around, but nothing seemed to change his course.
“Your
wings!” shouted Abs. “Use your wings!”
“Riiight,”
said Sergei, finally remembering he had those. His wings were glorious. The
large white feathers caught the air and he swooped down, dove for the
werewolves and swallowed the lot of them in one gulp.
“Atta
Boy!”
(O|O)
Abs tied Sergei up
outside of castle Urknotgudenuff on his way to meet with the king. Thousands of
peasants and commoners clawed at the entrance in an attempt to air a grievance
or two, but the guards wouldn’t let anyone in without an appointment.
King
Harrison Primich of Fantasmaland waited for Abs Killstrong in his throne room.
On his left, sat his wife, Queen Adele Boohringer, formerly of Colds Natch, and
on his right was a map displaying an incredibly complex and treacherous route
to another castle. The map was entitled “Abs Killstrong’s Next Quest.”
Abs
entered and was greeted by the king.
“Abs! Good
to see you,” he said.
“You’ve
summoned me, my liege?” asked Abs.
“Yes,
follow me,” said King Harrison, walking back to his throne.
Abs
followed and noticed the map with his name on it. A servant ran into the room
carrying a chair for Abs to sit on. He placed it down, gave the hero a big –
yet nervous – smile and left as quickly as he came.
Abs sat
down and said, “What’s with this map you got over there?”
“Oh, that
old thing?” the king responded. “That’s why I called you here.”
“You need
help folding it or something?”
“No. Well,
I suppose eventually.”
“He’s
never been too good at that,” said a not in the least bit surprisingly bitter
queen.
“Yes...
Anyway, I need you to fetch something for me.”
Abs
shuddered and said, “Don’t say ‘fetch’ too loud. Sergei has excellent hearing.”
“Ah, quite
right.”
“So,
what’s this thing you need me to procure?”
“I’m
sending you on a quest for...” said the king, pausing for dramatic effect. “...a
special wardrobe.”
“Uh huh,”
said Abs. “Why? What’s in it? Is it important? What kind of ‘special’ are we
talking about here?”
“Oh, I
mustn’t say. It’s far too precious. I’ve already said too much. If a word of
this got out...”
“Go on.”
“My
mother-in-law would kill me. It being a gift from her and all.”
“Say no
more, your highness. If you need it returned. I’ll find it and do just that.”
“Thank
you, Abs. Now hurry. Take the map with you. We can’t have any evidence of this
meeting left around here,” the king said, touching his nose.
Abs
panicked, “Shit! Do I have a booger?”
(O|O)
Abs and his
semi-faithful companion, Sergei, hit up the armory for some much needed
supplies – a sword, more than one arrow and a fancy satchel – and left
Fantasmaland on their way east. They followed the dotted line on the map and
came upon their first hurdle. It wasn’t so much like a hurdle, but more a large
flat expanse of burning sand. The Deathly Desert of Deathliness stretched out
in front of them.
“How about
a lift, old friend,” said Abs to his giant puppy. “We’d be able to traverse
this in no time if I rode on your back and your mighty paws bounded across the
dunes.”
“I don’t
know, Abs. My back’s a little sore.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And
I don’t really want singed pads either. They’re delicate.”
“But
you’re gigantic!”
“And so is
your disease-riddled mother.”
“True. But
you also have wings.”
“I think I
pulled something earlier.”
“Really?
I’m going to have to walk this?”
“Yes, and
by yourself too. I’m allergic to sand.”
“No you’re
not. You play in a sandbox on a regular basis.”
Sergei
looked across the desert and watched as the winds began to pick up.
“Well, I
just don’t want to do it. I have better things to do.”
“You’re
not coming at all?”
“I don’t
want sand in my face.”
“Neither
do I.”
“You should
have thought of that before agreeing to this quest.”
“Could you
at least launch me a few hundred miles?”
“I guess.”
Sergei bit
a lock of Abs’ hair and flung him across more than half of the desert. Abs
bounced, rolled and then slid the rest of the way. On his face. He stood up,
dusted himself off and turned back to wave thanks to his friend.
On his
left, he noticed a little shack and walked over. The door magically opened on
its own, like there was some sort of sensor or something absurd like that.
Inside sat
an old man wearing a wizard’s hat. He was asleep in his chair; teetering on its
back two legs.
“Good day,
kind wizard!” bellowed Abs.
The wizard
startled awake as his chair fell to the ground. He, however, remained exactly
where he had been resting. He then righted the chair, with his mind, and
positioned it beneath him.
“My...”
said the sorcerer, looking Abs over and then over again. “You, uh, seem to be
missing a face.”
“So, you
noticed.”
“Can’t say
it’s not noticeable.”
“Are you
one that notices things?”
“I’ve been
known to notice a few noticeables in my day.”
“Nifty!
What’s your name, wise sage?”
“Petals
the Magnifican’t.”
“Huh.”
“You don’t
like it?”
“It’s... different.
I wasn’t expecting that. Thought it might have been something more wizardly.
Like, I don’t know. Wiz Ardo?”
“That does
have a nice ring to it. Do you mind?”
“Not at
all. It’s what I do.”
“You give
people better names?”
“No! I
help people.”
“Oh. Well
then, thank you.”
“You’re
welcome, Wiz Ardo.”
“Now that that’s
out of the way, is there something I could help you with, my muscular
adventurer?”
“I... would
like my face back.”
“I was
afraid you’d say that. I’m not the best at faces. Fantastic Fred: The Faceman.
Now he’s good at faces.”
“And where
might I find Fantastic?”
“The last I
saw of him he was getting eaten by that bear the other day.”
“Oh.”
“Went for
the face first.”
“Ah.”
“Then
skipped the body and went for the groin,” said Wiz Ardo, gritting his teeth and
shaking his head violently.
“That’s
all I –”
“And then
it had sex with him.”
“Okay! I
get it. His soul has gone to a better place.”
“Perhaps,
but his body is no more than a hundred yards to the west. Right by that dune
with the red and white markings.”
“Oh. Why
does it have...” began Abs, stopping to reconsider his line of questioning and
come up with a better one. “How is his lifeless body going to make me pretty
again?”
“He could
still be alive,” said a hopeful yet, at the same time, doubtful Wiz Ardo.
“You
haven’t checked on him?”
“No. Why
would I?”
“Human
decency?”
“He’s my
competition. It’ll be good for business if he dies.”
“But you
don’t do faces. How is he your rival?”
“Oh, I do
faces.”
“But you
won’t do mine?”
“No.”
Abs drew
his sword and pointed it right at the middle of Wiz Ardo’s neck.
“Whoa!
Easy there, muscles. I don’t think you’d like my work.”
“Explain
before I turn you into a kabob and roast you for lunch.”
“It’s five
in the afternoon.”
“I’m a
late sleeper.”
“Okay,
okay. Hold your horses. When someone asks for a new face I just turn their old
one into a butt.”
“Wouldn’t
they notice?”
“I also
cast a spell on them so that they see a normal face when they look in the
mirror, but everyone else sees the assface.”
“That’s
evil!”
“And
that’s why I didn’t want to do that to you. You gave me such a wonderful new
name. I just couldn’t curse you like that.”
“Then I
thank you, although I don’t approve. I will let you live for your kindness to
me though.”
“I do
appreciate that.”
“So, this
Faceman? You think he’s still alive?”
“Could be.
He is a magician after all. Would you like me to take you to him?”
“If you
don’t mind. Before we leave, could I trouble you for some bandages? My face, or
what’s left of it, is still leaking everywhere.”
“Yes, I
had noticed that.”
Wiz Ardo and Abs
Killstrong reached the red and white streaked dune and found what remained of
Fantastic Fred. They approached him slowly trying not to disturb too much of
the sand around him.
“Who’s
that?” yelled Fantastic Fred: The Faceman. “I can’t see so you better tell me
who you are. I’ve literally got sand in my face.”
“Hello!”
answered Abs. “My name is Abs Killstrong and I’ve come here to seek your
expertise.”
Wiz
coughed, standing beside Abs.
“Who was
that?” asked Fantastic Fred.
“Oh,
that?” said Abs. “That’s just my good buddy, Wiz Ardo.”
“Speak,”
commanded Fred.
“Hi,
Fantastic Fred.”
“You’re
not Wiz Ardo. You’re Petals the Magnifican’t.”
“I gave
him a new name,” said a proud Abs.
“But he’s
a shitty wizard.”
“That’s a
little harsh,” said Abs.
Wiz Ardo
stood there, silent.
“Fine,”
said Fred. “He’s a shitty friend, person, whatever.”
Abs shook
his head. “I’d say that’s even more so. Look –”
“Nice,
jackass.”
“Sorry.
Sorry. My fault. What has he done to bother you so?”
“Why don’t
you ask him?”
Abs looked
down at Wiz Ardo with a furrowed brow.
“Enlighten
me, Petals.”
“I, uh,
might have made the bear appear that destroyedhisshopatehisfaceandhadsexwithhim.”
“You made
the bear?” asked Abs.
Wiz Ardo
nodded.
“Why would
you do that?”
“He’s been
getting more customers than me. And I thought his shack was ugly.”
“See!” said
Fred. “He’s a tool.”
“Your
mother didn’t seem to mind me being a tool,” said Wiz Ardo.
“Alright,”
said Abs. “Alright. Let’s not get carried away. Gentle faceless, groinless and
anally violated wizard, would you be able to adorn my head with a new face?”
“I
suppose.”
“Thank
you. Hey. Why didn’t you give yourself a new face?”
“Excellent
question. For you see, I was cursed many a decade ago. I can no longer use my
magic on myself.”
“Good
thing I’m not you, ” said Abs.
Fantastic Fred: The
Faceman created a new face for Abs that was not at all dissimilar to the
original one that remained on a vast stretch of sand a few yards from where
they stood at this very moment.
“How do I
look?” Abs asked Wiz Ardo.
“Pretty
good. If I were a wench I’d do you.”
“Not sure
that’s the response I wanted, but I’ll take it. Thank you, Fantastic Fred. This
face feels perfect.”
“You’re
welcome, kind warrior. I’m glad my last deed was a good one.”
“Before
you, um, go,” said Abs, “do you know who cursed you?”
“Sadly,”
whimpered Fred, “I... do... not.”
Wiz Ardo
whistled while slowly creeping backwards.
“You... dick...”
With his
last bit of strength, Fred lifted his finger and turned Wiz Ardo’s face into a
butt. Wiz Ardo fell to his knees and felt his new features. He tried to scream,
but the only sound that escaped was an epic fart. His whole head had been
replaced by a butt. He quickly suffocated – due to only being able to exhale –
and died.
“Now...
I... can... ... die... ... ... in... ... ... ... peace,” said Fantastic Fred.
Abs looked
at each of the two dead wizards, shook his head, turned and continued
eastwards.
(O|O)
Hours later, Abs
stopped at a small tavern, pulled the map out of his satchel and made sure he
was still on the right path. He was.
Realizing
he hadn’t had anything to drink in quite some time, Abs pulled up a stool at
the bar and looked over the list of ales that had been scratched into the wood
in front of him. He raised his head, indicating that he had made his decision
and flagged down the bartender.
“The name’s
Lester Mole. What can I get for you?” asked the bartender.
“I’d like
a pint, my good man.”
“A pint of
what?”
“Booze.”
“What
kind?”
“Uh...”
“Do you
need another minute?”
“No. No.
I’m good. Uh. Uh. Surprise me!”
“Right.
One pint of surprise booze coming up.”
Lester
walked over to a couple of jugs that looked a little less than sanitary and
began mixing. He poured the brew into a mug and topped it off with the contents
of a vile that he kept in his pocket.
“What’s
that you got there?” asked Abs.
“This?”
said Lester Mole. “Oh, nothing. Just gives the alcohol a little extra kick.”
“Niiice.”
Lester
brought the drink over to Abs and asked, “Would you like me to start a tab for
you?”
Abs took a
swig. “Sounds fine. Say, do you have any rooms available? It’s getting late and
I’ve been traveling for quite some time.”
“We do.”
“Excellent.
I’d like to rent one for the night.”
“That can
be arranged. Where are you coming from?”
“I’m on a
quest for King Primich of Fantasmaland. Don’t tell anyone. Especially not his
mother-in-law.”
“Interesting.”
“I
suppose. You want to know something interesting? This isn’t even the same face
I started the day with.”
“You’ve
met Fantastic Fred. How’s he doing?”
“Been
better.”
“That’s a
shame.”
“Tell me
about it. To have your privates eaten by a bear must be rough.”
“That does
sound painful.”
“And then
it had sex with him.”
“Really?”
asked an intrigued Lester.
“Yeah. And
then he died. Hey, this is really good. What was that stuff you put in it at
the end? I need to get some for home.”
“That stuff?
Oh, you don’t want that.”
“Sure I
do,” said Abs as he took another sip. “This is the best drink I’ve ever had.”
“Okay.
It’s called Essence of Innocence by Orphan Soul.”
“That’s a
funny name.”
Abs spun
around on his stool, drunk off his ass. Lester ignored him and walked over to
the opposite end of the bar to draw up a tab and figure out which room to give
his new customer.
Abs leaned
back against the counter and began repeating the bartender’s name over and
over again.
“Lester
Mole. Lester Mole. LesterMole. LesterMole. LesterMoleLesterMole.
LesterMoleLesterMole. Lester Molester Mole... LesterMolester... Molester...”
Abs
sobered up and shot to his feet. The name. The orphan souls. The incredible
taste of pure innocence. He turned around and pointed at Lester.
“You sick
bastard!”
“Something
wrong?”
“How could
you do that to children?”
“They... didn’t
mind?”
“Liar!”
“They were
orphans. Not like anyone’s going to miss them.”
“You
killed them too?”
“I had
to.”
“Who
said?”
“Me?”
“Come over
here.”
Lester, against
his better judgment, walked over to Abs.
“Yes?”
Abs
grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him to about an inch from his face and said,
“For some reason I’m going to let you live.”
“Thank you
kind –”
“BUT!
You’re not going to charge me for this drink and I’m going to be staying here
tonight for free. Plus, I expect an orphan-meat-free breakfast in the morning.
And waffles. Strawberry waffles. Lots of them.”
“No
problem, sir. You can take the honeymoon suite. It hasn’t been used in ages.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t have
too many recently married couples coming to a place like this.”
“I see
your point.”
Abs
released Lester and made his way upstairs to go to sleep. He stopped before
entering his room and called down to Lester.
“Of course
it goes without saying that you’re not going to hurt another child again,
right?”
“Right. Of
course. I wouldn’t think of it.”
“Good,”
said Abs, pulling an arrow out of his quiver. “And just to make sure.”
Abs hurled
the arrow into Lester’s crotch. He turned, walked into his room and slammed the
door.
Abs woke several hours
later as the morning sun came in through the window, blinding him completely.
He rolled over and met face-to-face with a ghostly figure lying next to him.
“Oh!
Hello, young lass. Can I help you?”
“You’re
handsome,” said Hagitha, the ghost of a former barmaid.
“Why,
thank you, kind ghost. And yes, you are correct. But I need to be on my way.
Much to do. I’m on a quest,” he said proudly, getting up out of bed, naked.
“Ooooo,
neat. What kind of quest?”
“I can’t
tell you. It’s a secret.”
“Fine.
Well, then where are you going?”
“Hmm, you
know. I never did check to see where this mystical wardrobe is.”
Abs pulled
out the map – where from, no one knows – and unfolded it carefully making sure
not to tear it – it was a nice map after all.
“Oh.
Poop.”
“That
bad?” asked the ghost.
“Mightily.
It appears that King Guy X. Acute has the item I desire over in Deathtown. None
of that sounds good.”
“No,”
agreed Hagitha. “Fancy a shag before you go? I haven’t had one since Lester
‘accidentally’ killed me during one last year.”
“Uh, no.
I’m good. But I must be going. A lot of ground to cover,” he said, still
examining the map, but really trying to figure out a way to fold it back up.
“Aw yeah! I get to go through a kitten factory. Maybe I can keep one. Hey,
wait. Did you just say Lester killed you?”
“That he
did.”
“That guy
needs to be stopped. Now!”
Abs put
his underwear on, grabbed his sword and ran out to vanquish this Lester
character once and for all.
Lester was standing
behind the bar, holding an infant when Abs burst through the wall of the
honeymoon suite, bounded over the railing on the second floor and landed on top
of the counter staring at the top of Lester’s head.
“You!”
“You seem
well rested,” Lester said, now facing his attacker.
“Must
die.”
Lester
began panicking and said, “Whoa, wait. Why? You already got me in the crotch
for the orphan thing.”
“What’s
that you’re holding?”
“Another
orphan.”
“WHAT?”
“Another
orphan.”
Abs became
more enraged.
“So, still
with the orphans and you kill your barmaids during incredibly rough sex?”
“Who told
you that?”
“I did,
sweetie!” called Hagitha from upstairs.
“Crap.”
“Prepare
to die, scum! And where are my waffles?”
Lester
pointed at the end of the bar.
“No orphan
parts of any kind?”
“None at all,”
said Lester.
“Thanks,”
said Abs as he swung his sword, lopping off Lester’s head. “Crap! Falling
baby!”
Abs threw
his sword to the side and dove for the child that the headless body of Lester
carelessly dropped, catching it moments before hitting the floor.
“That was
a close one, baby. Hey, do you like waffles?”
____________________
So, what do you think? Want to see how it ends? Find out in Scattered Together, out this Friday at midnight (GMT).
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