Eclipse of a Terraformed Suburbia
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“What ho? Why aren’t those animals tagged?”
“Here is a copper and a silver to look the other way.”
“It appears that I either accept your pieces… or your hungry swords.”
“You are a very wise tollman.”
“Yet I do pray that you are not rogues. Our willage has been unfortunate enough of late…”
“Do tell of your willage’s misfortunes. Wizards we be.”
“Pirate Wizards, by the sounds of ye.”
“Aye, ye be right, near so. Sons of Pirates, and nasty scoundrels they were.”
“My condolences.”
“But they took good wives, who paid for all of our wizard apprenticeships.”
“So you are a band of brothers.”
“Since our wee years. Such fond memories. Now we battle The Contagion, and a pandemic it be. Has it reached your willage?”
“We’ve only seen mad munchkins from the terraformed suburbs…”
… ’Twas a dead winter’s night of mystica-horror,
… an eclipse over the murky souls
… of rampaging zombie munchkins, from
… the boggy archipelago:
… Prophesied by the Jeweled King of Dragons
… over a mug of warm, dark-brewed ale
… with the wizards of terraformed suburbia
… who sallied forth to fight The Contagion
… afflicting the Empire of Avigno…
“MAD MUNCHKINS FROM THE TERRAFORMED SUBURBS! Aye, they be The Contagion. In witherfor way did they wither to?”
“Across the milestone bridge, toward the cold waste downs of the two-headed North Sea Giants, who, we suspect, will devour the mad munchkins before they reach the consortium of Asteroid Towns.”
“The two-headed giants verily will — they can smell a munchkin two thousand leagues away.”
“So your job is done. The Contagion will be vanquished.”
“Yes, it appears so…”
“You look disappointed.”
“Aye. Without a quest, we become translucent.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it may have its advantaged.”
“Well, it is entertaining when we all swallow mice… and we do hire ourselves out as spies, scepters, and apparitions… and translucent hands emit titanium streams of spaghetti, but other than that, we tend to feel blue…”
“Well, I know just the remedy for the translucent blues.”
“And what is that?”
“My grandmother’s green potato porridge!”
“With chives and basil?”
“Indeed! We shall sup tonight! With apple foosenoof and splendid spiced mutton confusions.”
“Noooooooo…”
“Yes!”
“Do ye know that potato porridge, apple foosenoof, and splendid mutton confusions attracts…”
“THE JEWELED KING OF DRAGONS!”
… And so they supped, in a one-room cottage
… on the outskirts of terraformed suburbia -
… one dragon, five wizards, a tollman, choice ale,
… potatoes and mutton spread over the table;
… apples to follow the titanium spaghetti…
… Old songs of heroics resounded aloud
… over dell, down derry, through the vacuous clouds
… that bore witness to two-headed North Sea Giants
… devouring munchkins in the cold waste downs
… near the mining consortium of Asteroid Towns
… beyond our little willage..
