The Merry Men of the Forest
The damsel damselled distressedly, being suitably upset at the distressing turn of events. She had been frolicking through the forest to see her grandmother this morning and now she was tied to a tree, damselling. Never before had she damselled, but she was damn well going to damsel now she had the opportunity.
Especially with the drunken men cavorting in the clearing in front of her. Smiler had a scar which cut grotesquely across his chin. Lugless had none of his own but wore a necklace of three dangling down to his bared hairy chest. Nightmare wore a hood, his only feature the stench of cider emanating from the hole which was his breathing opening. They had lit a fire and were dancing in its flickering light, hallooing and screaming a rough song popular at the time.
“Oh! The sand, the sand, the sand, sand, sand
There are camels, camels, camels, camels
In the sand, sand, sand, sand
Oh! The land, the land, the land, land, land
Is full of camels, camels, camels
Like an ‘orse with an ‘ump, ‘ump, ‘ump.
And a very hairy rump, rump, rump”
It seemed to the damselling, who was damselling very well despite the gag over her little mouth, that they had captured her for a stupid game for which the only purpose was to annoy her. Intermittently they would come up to her for the ‘rump, rump, rump’ lines, but they did not touch her. Although they had not been so gentlemanly when they had caught her, bound her and forced her into a large haversack with a knife at her throat.
“Like an ‘orse with an ‘ump, ‘ump, ‘ump”
Then it happened. Smiler spilt his drink on Lugless, who turned to blame Nightmare as his beloved ear collection soaked in rancid alcohol. Nightmare drew his knife on Lugless, who with a howl like a rusty trumpet went to lay him out with a vicious right hook. Lugless dodged it clumsily with drunken speed, stumbling into Smiler. Smiler grinned a terrible grin and shoved Lugless to the ground, tripping him, and turned on Nightmare, drawing his own knife. The two circled for a bit, until the larger Smiler stumbling on a fallen branch, the other end of which Nightmare had been stood on. As the branch tumbled, both men fell and stuck their knives into one another’s guts.
It took the men who were too merry a little under a day to die, and the damsel in distress a further three until the delirium carried her to the Styx, rescuing her from the dying illusion she was a sausage. |