Part 12 (1/2)
”That's all right,” said Randall. ”I just thought it was unusual is all.”
”Well, rise and s.h.i.+ne. It's time to a.s.sa.s.sinate the king.”
”Oh, happy, happy day.”
”You should know that sarcasm is grounds for bug-squas.h.i.+ng. Now get up so we can go over the plan.”
RANDALL SAT at the table with the other four men. He was wearing a set of clothes they provided which managed to avoid the adjectives ”dapper”, ”tasteful”, ”comfortable”, and and ”color-coordinated.” Even the pocket lint managed to be well behind current fas.h.i.+on. ”color-coordinated.” Even the pocket lint managed to be well behind current fas.h.i.+on.
”Now, what's the plan again?” Maverick asked.
”Don't screw up or Bug's dead,” Randall replied.
”Good.” Maverick slid a gold necklace across the table toward him. ”You're going to wear this. It's magic, and will let us see everything you do and hear everything you say, so don't try anything sneaky.”
Randall picked up the necklace. ”I'm really not into adornments. Too superficial.”
”Put it on,” said Maverick.
”It clashes with my s.h.i.+rt.”
”Tuck it under the s.h.i.+rt.”
”It clashes with my chest.”
”Don't be a dipwad.”
”What exactly is a dipwad?”
”Somebody who ticks me off and gets a foot up their nose.”
”Whose foot? Yours or mine?”
”Both. One in each nostril.”
”That would make me look goofier than just wearing the necklace, right?”
”Right.”
Randall put it on. ”I don't suppose this would be the fabled Necklace of Power?”
Roderick shook his head. ”Never heard of the Necklace of Power. Remember, if this necklace comes off, the bug gets stomped.”
”You guys are getting a little redundant with those bug threats. I'm liable to become desensitized.”
The men stood up. ”Let's go,” said Frederick. ”You know what to do.”
”Question: If I legitimately forget what I'm supposed to do, am I going to be penalized?”
Frederick sighed. ”Are you really that stupid or are you just trying to lull us into a false sense of security?”
”I'm really that stupid,” Randall replied. Actually, he was trying to lull them into a false sense of security, but was far too intelligent to reveal such a thing.
”Come on, let's go,” urged Roderick. ”You've got a lot of work to do today.”
THE WALK through the secret tunnel was very long, but was kept interesting by the graffiti that lined the tunnel walls. Randall learned lots of new rhymes for body parts he didn't even know existed.
After about an hour, they reached a trap-door in the seven-foot-high ceiling that was labeled ”The King's Bedroom.” As they proceeded down the tunnel, they pa.s.sed other trap-doors labeled ”Library”, ”Kitchen”, ”Stables”, ”Locker Room”, ”Martial Arts Training Facility”, ”Marital Arts Training Facility”, and ”Room With The Cow Figurine.” Finally they reached one labeled ”Castle Entrance.”
”This door leads to a small area hidden by bushes,” Frederick explained. ”That way n.o.body will see you come up. Good luck.”
”Yes, good luck,” said Rick. ”Please don't let the fact that we're forcing you into this detract from your job satisfaction.”
He reached up and yanked on the handle of the trap-door. Some dirt and leaves dropped down into the tunnel as the door opened, as well as a ten-foot-high marble statue of the king. It struck the floor with an ear-shattering crash crash.
”Hmmmm...” said Rick. ”That didn't happen last time.”
”Yes it did,” Frederick reminded him.
”Oh, that's right. I promised I'd do something about it. How embarra.s.sing.”
”Shouldn't we run?” asked Randall. ”Somebody had to have heard that.”
”Maybe,” said Roderick, ”but that's not our problem. We'll help you squeeze past the statue so you can get to work.”
As Randall reached up and grabbed the edge of the trap door, Roderick, Maverick, and Frederick hoisted him up to the surface, while Rick dealt rather poorly with the realization that the statue had come down upon his foot, wrecking his pedicure. Upon reaching solid ground, Randall stood up to find himself nose-to-sword with a savage-looking guard.
”What's going on here?” the guard demanded. He obviously wasn't a particularly bright guard, as evidenced by the ”Kick-Me” sign on his chest.
Randall pointed to the statue head, which protruded through the open doorway. ”Statue fell.”
”You're absolutely right, it did.” The guard peered through the gap between the statue and the doorway. ”Is anyone else down there?”
Randall shook his head.
”What about the person screaming in pain?”
”He doesn't count.”
”Ah, I see. So why are you here?”
”I desire an audience with the king.”
”Is that so? What makes you think the king is interested in anything you have to say?”
”I was part of the escort group responsible for bringing Princess Janice of Mosiman here.”