Sir Broderick and Dr. Krumbunculus burst into the Country Crawdad Crossbar with painfully huge grins and a bulging sac of coinage.
“Hood low noon, sirrahs!” Sir Broderick turned to the barkeep. “Two rockless whiskey sours for me and a flagon of the finest ale for this wiry old fart wizard!”
The bartender grumbled like a dog with clogged sinuses. “Alrighty then. That’ll be ten chickensfeed. Per drink.”
Sir Broderick hocked a loogie in shock. “Excrete me? How much?”
Dr. Krumbunculus whispered to Sir Broderick, “They said ten chickensfeed.”
“I know what they said idiot! But they just gave that guy a drink for one chickensfeed!” Sir Broderick pointed to a decrepit whisp of a man with three teeth and bloodshot eyes, who was happily chugging down ale. “What’s the problem here, barkeep? Why should we pay ten chickensfeed a drink when he gets to pay one?”
The barkeep chuckled. “Senior discount.”
Dr. Krumbunculus krumbutted in. “I’m quite elderly as you should be able to see from my saggin skin and deep set wrinkles.”
The barkeep snorted, almost oinking in the process. “Locals discount.”
“I used to live in the Wayword Woods til this clucker over here burned my house down.”
“Very well. One chickensfeed for your ale. Twenty chickensfeed per drink for this…aspiring arsonist.”
“It was an accident! I was trying to hit skyrates in the face with horse shit. Surely you understand, sirrah barkeep!”
“Oh cluck off. Skyrates? Do I look like I’m twelve?”
OOOOOINK SNORSNOR OOOOINKOINKOINK
A small semi wild hog was running around a wire maze suspended from the ceiling that snaked its way around the magic lightbulbs and out roughly cut square openings in the front and back of the Country Crawdad Crossbar.
SNORSNORSNORSNOR OOOOINK
The barkeep’s eyes grew wide. “Cluck me sideways! An oink alert!”
Patrons of the bar quickly chugged their alcohol, smashed their bottles, smoked their smokes to the bone, divided their gambling winnings haphazardly, and scrambled out of the bar in waves, smashing through every grimy glass window like an inhebriated hurricane.
Dr. Krumbunculus blinked, and cast a spell to lessen the shock he felt.
Sir Broderick let loose a roaring bout of flatulence, then cleared his throat. “Excrete me?”
OOOOOINK OINKOINK SNORSNORSNORT
“An oink alert you crustacious rangoon!”
They both blinked obscenely at the barkeep, completely confused.
“Mother clucking tourists!” he looked over at Dr. Krumbunculus, “And weirdo hermits pretending to be tourists! Shitting up our humble homes with your money and your bodily functions and your not knowing anything about the customs of the Ainthadnothin’toeat disctrict! Go to Uptown next time you prissy ignorant waifs!”
OOINKOOOINKOINOINOOOOOINK
“Uhm, noted,” Dr. Krumbunculus coughed, “But, ehrm, we still don’t know what an oink alert is.”
The barkeep sighed. “What goes oink oink oink?”
Sir Broderick and Dr. Krumbunculus answered in unison: “A pig?”
SSSSHKHKKHHKKHKHSKSKHSHKKHHH
All of the glass windows magically reconstructed themselves. All of the doors magically locked.
OOOOINOINOINOINNOOOOINK SNORT SNORT
Three raps on the door. And then, a familiar voice.
“Excrete me. This is the Royal Gourd. If you do not open up, we will be forced to use excessive violence to enter your establishment and may end up maiming someone. Consider yourselves aptly warned.”
“Oh shit!” Sir Broderick choaked on his saliva as he grabbed Dr. Krumbunculus and attempted to dash through a nearby window, only to flatten his face in pain. “How did they shatter it so easy?”
“You’re too late. The porkers are here now. The spell won’t let anybody leave with them here. You’d know that if you weren’t such clucking yuppies.”
“Hey Broderick—”
“It’s Sir Broderick, Krumbuncles.”
“I—but—nevermind. Why are you so scared of the Royal Gourd?”
“Oh! Well, I hate them. Also that lady has been trying to kill me recently. Did I not mention that to you yet?”
Three more raps on the door.
“This is your last chance. This is the Royal Gourd. ”
Sir Broderick blinked at Dr. Krumbunculus’ glassy eyes. “Alrighty magic man. Is there anything you can do?”
“There might be…something. Just give me a second.”
Sir Broderick grabbed Dr. Krumbunculus as if he were a broom and dashed behind the bar.
The barkeep chuckled as he walked to the door and fished around on his absurdly large and absurdly full keyring.
“Shit. Which on was it again?” he continued to try and find the key, trying a few in the doorknob. “Clucking wizards and their stupid clucking security spells cock hamn idiots the lot of em mother clucking wizards I swear if I had a piece of chickensfeed for every time a clucking wizard—”
“Yaaaarg! Let us in ya filthy bilge cats!”
The door burst open and off its hinges, knocking the barkeep over and sending his keyring flying across the room, shattering into and large handle of expensive liquor. A dust cloud parted, revealing Pamela and Green Garey.
“Cock hamn it,” the barkeep grumbled, scrounging to his feet. “What do you two want?”
Sir Broderick peeked through a crack between the bar and the wall, seeing the imposing figures.
“That’s her all right. Not sure who that fellow is though. Looks like a hamned skyrate. Look at this shit, Krumbles.”
Dr. Krumbunculus peered in the crack, twisting his left earlobe in a wizardly fashion. “Well I’ll be a skinned mantelope. That guy is the skyratiest looking person I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Krumbumbly?”
Dr. Krumbunculus twisted his nipples magically. “What, that you ought to stop contorting my name into a cockhamned pretzel?”
“No. I think I know why she is trying to kill me!”
Dr. Krumbunculus frantically picked through his belly button lint. “Would you stop wasting my time while I’m trying to save our asses?”
No sooner did the word ‘asses’ escape from the folds of Dr. Krumbunculus’ lips than Sir Broderick’s red, bloodshot eyes grew redder and more bloodshot. His constantly sweaty brow quickly grew dry as anger burned the sweat off as if his forehead were a stove, which was exacerbated by his saucepan helmet to give the appearance that Sir Broderick was sauteing eggs on his head. Then he bellowed loud as a skytrain horn.
“MY ASS!”
The bar cut to silence.
“What on Gurth was that?” posited Pamela.
“Avast ye, interloper! Show yerself, and mayperhapsily AYE will grant ye mercy.”
Two radiant women in ragged clothes leaned up from the bar, fluttering their eyelids and giggling. Pamela found the display annoying as she had to change the page and draw two more naked people on her new notepad. Green Garey looked like he wished he had two eyes. The barkeep found it all quite funny, but did his best to contain himself.
Green Garey sashayed over. “Well shiver me thimbles. Who might you two be?”
“I-” spoke Sir Broderick in a flirty, squirrely voice, “am Broderica.”
“And I-” spoke Dr. Krumbunculus, apparently trying to out-sexy Sir Broderick and seeming to do so, “am Lady Krumbumbum.” Emphasis was definitely placed on the word ‘bum.’
Broderica looked at Lady Krumbumbum, thinking about how they had just argued about contorting ‘Krumbunculus’ into different forms. Then Broderica went right into shit talking.
“I say, Lady Krumbumbum, that is quite a modest dress for such a woman lucky enough to be called a lady around these parts. Did you think you’d trounce around here so flippantly waving your rump around half hanging out your rags to get a bit of a laugh at us here common folk?” Broderica made sure to make eye contact with everyone else as she said ‘common folk.’ “Also I mean that makeup? You look like a clown. Really, Madame Krumbumbumbum, haven’t you heard of moderation?”
“I’m a lady, not a madame. And it’s Krumbumbum, not Krumbumbumbum. That’s three bums! Can’t you count, Broderica? You may have a sharp tongue but you may also want to look in to scraping it. You happen to have breath that resembles the odor of a long decaying squid, yes, that’s her everyone don’t worry it’s all her. She’s just not very hygenic I guess.”
“Ladies, Ladies. Yaaarg! Let’s all take it down a couple of knots, we don’t want anybody getting skysick do we now?”
Broderica perked up in multiple ways, then leaned forward over as if the bar itself were some form of innuendo. “Yaaarg? What a fascinating exclamation, sirrah! Whereabouts does one gain such a compelling vernacular?”
Pamela stepped forward. “That’s not important, and we’re the ones asking questions.”
Lady Krumbumbum turned to Pamela and flittered here eyelids so fsat they got sore. “Oh really?”
Sir Broderick and Dr. Krumbunculus burst into the Country Crawdad Crossbar with painfully huge grins and a bulging sac of coinage.
“Hood low noon, sirrahs!” Sir Broderick turned to the barkeep. “Two rockless whiskey sours for me and a flagon of the finest ale for this wiry old fart wizard!”
The bartender grumbled like a dog with clogged sinuses. “Alrighty then. That’ll be ten chickensfeed. Per drink.”
Sir Broderick hocked a loogie in shock. “Excrete me? How much?”
Dr. Krumbunculus whispered to Sir Broderick, “They said ten chickensfeed.”
“I know what they said idiot! But they just gave that guy a drink for one chickensfeed!” Sir Broderick pointed to a decrepit whisp of a man with three teeth and bloodshot eyes, who was happily chugging down ale. “What’s the problem here, barkeep? Why should we pay ten chickensfeed a drink when he gets to pay one?”
The barkeep chuckled. “Senior discount.”
Dr. Krumbunculus krumbutted in. “I’m quite elderly as you should be able to see from my saggin skin and deep set wrinkles.”
The barkeep snorted, almost oinking in the process. “Locals discount.”
“I used to live in the Wayword Woods til this clucker over here burned my house down.”
“Very well. One chickensfeed for your ale. Twenty chickensfeed per drink for this…aspiring arsonist.”
“It was an accident! I was trying to hit skyrates in the face with horse shit. Surely you understand, sirrah barkeep!”
“Oh cluck off. Skyrates? Do I look like I’m twelve?”
OOOOOINK SNORSNOR OOOOINKOINKOINK
A small semi wild hog was running around a wire maze suspended from the ceiling that snaked its way around the magic lightbulbs and out roughly cut square openings in the front and back of the Country Crawdad Crossbar.
SNORSNORSNORSNOR OOOOINK
The barkeep’s eyes grew wide. “Cluck me sideways! An oink alert!”
Patrons of the bar quickly chugged their alcohol, smashed their bottles, smoked their smokes to the bone, divided their gambling winnings haphazardly, and scrambled out of the bar in waves, smashing through every grimy glass window like an inhebriated hurricane.
Dr. Krumbunculus blinked, and cast a spell to lessen the shock he felt.
Sir Broderick let loose a roaring bout of flatulence, then cleared his throat. “Excrete me?”
OOOOOINK OINKOINK SNORSNORSNORT
“An oink alert you crustacious rangoon!”
They both blinked obscenely at the barkeep, completely confused.
“Mother clucking tourists!” he looked over at Dr. Krumbunculus, “And weirdo hermits pretending to be tourists! Shitting up our humble homes with your money and your bodily functions and your not knowing anything about the customs of the Ainthadnothin’toeat disctrict! Go to Uptown next time you prissy ignorant waifs!”
OOINKOOOINKOINOINOOOOOINK
“Uhm, noted,” Dr. Krumbunculus coughed, “But, ehrm, we still don’t know what an oink alert is.”
The barkeep sighed. “What goes oink oink oink?”
Sir Broderick and Dr. Krumbunculus answered in unison: “A pig?”
SSSSHKHKKHHKKHKHSKSKHSHKKHHH
All of the glass windows magically reconstructed themselves. All of the doors magically locked.
OOOOINOINOINOINNOOOOINK SNORT SNORT
Three raps on the door. And then, a familiar voice.
“Excrete me. This is the Royal Gourd. If you do not open up, we will be forced to use excessive violence to enter your establishment and may end up maiming someone. Consider yourselves aptly warned.”
“Oh shit!” Sir Broderick choaked on his saliva as he grabbed Dr. Krumbunculus and attempted to dash through a nearby window, only to flatten his face in pain. “How did they shatter it so easy?”
“You’re too late. The porkers are here now. The spell won’t let anybody leave with them here. You’d know that if you weren’t such clucking yuppies.”
“Hey Broderick—”
“It’s Sir Broderick, Krumbuncles.”
“I—but—nevermind. Why are you so scared of the Royal Gourd?”
“Oh! Well, I hate them. Also that lady has been trying to kill me recently. Did I not mention that to you yet?”
Three more raps on the door.
“This is your last chance. This is the Royal Gourd. ”
Sir Broderick blinked at Dr. Krumbunculus’ glassy eyes. “Alrighty magic man. Is there anything you can do?”
“There might be…something. Just give me a second.”
Sir Broderick grabbed Dr. Krumbunculus as if he were a broom and dashed behind the bar.
The barkeep chuckled as he walked to the door and fished around on his absurdly large and absurdly full keyring.
“Shit. Which on was it again?” he continued to try and find the key, trying a few in the doorknob. “Clucking wizards and their stupid clucking security spells cock hamn idiots the lot of em mother clucking wizards I swear if I had a piece of chickensfeed for every time a clucking wizard—”
“Yaaaarg! Let us in ya filthy bilge cats!”
The door burst open and off its hinges, knocking the barkeep over and sending his keyring flying across the room, shattering into and large handle of expensive liquor. A dust cloud parted, revealing Pamela and Green Garey.
“Cock hamn it,” the barkeep grumbled, scrounging to his feet. “What do you two want?”
Sir Broderick peeked through a crack between the bar and the wall, seeing the imposing figures.
“That’s her all right. Not sure who that fellow is though. Looks like a hamned skyrate. Look at this shit, Krumbles.”
Dr. Krumbunculus peered in the crack, twisting his left earlobe in a wizardly fashion. “Well I’ll be a skinned mantelope. That guy is the skyratiest looking person I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Krumbumbly?”
Dr. Krumbunculus twisted his nipples magically. “What, that you ought to stop contorting my name into a cockhamned pretzel?”
“No. I think I know why she is trying to kill me!”
Dr. Krumbunculus frantically picked through his belly button lint. “Would you stop wasting my time while I’m trying to save our asses?”
No sooner did the word ‘asses’ escape from the folds of Dr. Krumbunculus’ lips than Sir Broderick’s red, bloodshot eyes grew redder and more bloodshot. His constantly sweaty brow quickly grew dry as anger burned the sweat off as if his forehead were a stove, which was exacerbated by his saucepan helmet to give the appearance that Sir Broderick was sauteing eggs on his head. Then he bellowed loud as a skytrain horn.
“MY ASS!”
The bar cut to silence.
“What on Gurth was that?” posited Pamela.
“Avast ye, interloper! Show yerself, and mayperhapsily AYE will grant ye mercy.”
Two radiant women in ragged clothes leaned up from the bar, fluttering their eyelids and giggling. Pamela found the display annoying as she had to change the page and draw two more naked people on her new notepad. Green Garey looked like he wished he had two eyes. The barkeep found it all quite funny, but did his best to contain himself.
Green Garey sashayed over. “Well shiver me thimbles. Who might you two be?”
“I-” spoke Sir Broderick in a flirty, squirrely voice, “am Broderica.”
“And I-” spoke Dr. Krumbunculus, apparently trying to out-sexy Sir Broderick and seeming to do so, “am Lady Krumbumbum.” Emphasis was definitely placed on the word ‘bum.’
Broderica looked at Lady Krumbumbum, thinking about how they had just argued about contorting ‘Krumbunculus’ into different forms. Then Broderica went right into shit talking.
“I say, Lady Krumbumbum, that is quite a modest dress for such a woman lucky enough to be called a lady around these parts. Did you think you’d trounce around here so flippantly waving your rump around half hanging out your rags to get a bit of a laugh at us here common folk?” Broderica made sure to make eye contact with everyone else as she said ‘common folk.’ “Also I mean that makeup? You look like a clown. Really, Madame Krumbumbumbum, haven’t you heard of moderation?”
“I’m a lady, not a madame. And it’s Krumbumbum, not Krumbumbumbum. That’s three bums! Can’t you count, Broderica? You may have a sharp tongue but you may also want to look in to scraping it. You happen to have breath that resembles the odor of a long decaying squid, yes, that’s her everyone don’t worry it’s all her. She’s just not very hygenic I guess.”
“Ladies, Ladies. Yaaarg! Let’s all take it down a couple of knots, we don’t want anybody getting skysick do we now?”
Broderica perked up in multiple ways, then leaned forward over as if the bar itself were some form of innuendo. “Yaaarg? What a fascinating exclamation, sirrah! Whereabouts does one gain such a compelling vernacular?”
Pamela stepped forward. “That’s not important, and we’re the ones asking questions.”
Lady Krumbumbum turned to Pamela and flittered here eyelids so fsat they got sore. “Oh really?”
