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Princess Charlotte and the Lake Dwellers

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Princess Charlotte and the Lake Dwellers Princess Charlotte and the Lake Dwellers Written by Harry Jonathan Chong Hello, Jell-O Once upon a time in a land far away, was a race of proud people. They were conquerors who traveled from place to place. Their prosperity unsurpassed; they went about plundering and pillaging villages, without a thought, living off the fruits and labor of others. The Malgelions, as they were known, had access to the most powerful weapons. They had the best of the best of the best; the best swords, the best shields, the best boots from the butts of beasts who could not bear the burden of the overbearing barbarians. Nothing but the finest for the Malgelions, they took what they wanted and stole what they needed. But of course, one cannot go about living a life of hedonism without upsetting the locals. “Oh,” said Triskut the Mighty to his army, “we have done well. It is time to reward ourselves. Men, take what you will. Food, wine, women, it is yours. And for the women in the army, you may substitute the men for women. Let us go and ransack. The weak defenders of this village have vanquished under our mighty fists. It is ours for the taking!” As the men of Triskut’s army disperse, a haggardly lady appears. “Stop,” she commands with her big bumpy nose wiggling side to side, “you are not entitled to that which is not your own. You are not entitled to that which has not been created under the labor of your own hands. Leave this place and never come back or I will curse your people.” Triskut laughs. “Foolish woman! Do you think your silly words will hurt us! We are the Malgelions! Nobody and nothing can stop us, not even God himself! What makes you think that you have a chance!? Do you know Kung-fu?! Can you beat us up?! Because it looks like you cannot!” Salsburah, the haggardly lady, suddenly drops down into the splits. Her legs spread out and Triskut cries out. “Oh! Sweet Lord! You must be a hundred years old! How did you do that?!” With a smirk on her face, Salsburah stands to her feet. “I am a sorcerer,” she says. “And I also do Pilates and Jazzercise three times a week. It’s a new thing. Not many people know about it.” The men are dumbfounded, not sure if they should run or stay and stand strong. “I am impressed,” remarks Triskut, “but that says nothing of your skills as a sorcerer, now does it? Plus, I got more skills than that. Watch this, you hag.” Triskut gets onto his head and starts spinning around like a top. When he stops and stands, the men are in an uproar. “Aw yeeeah,” a soldier is heard remarking. But Salsburah the Sorcerer is not impressed. She places her hands on the ground and starts flaring her legs around. She finishes her move and crosses her arms in a bad ass pose. The men stamp their feet on the ground in excitement. “You got owned!” says one of them. “What do you mean I got ‘owned’?!” replies Triskut angrily. “I am not a slave!” As Salsburah smiles, knowing that she won, she is suddenly manhandled by a pair of burly females. “What are you doing?!” she cries. Her arms are held and her mouth covered. Triskut points. “Take her away!” he says. “I will not be embarrassed by this old hag! Throw her into the town dungeon! Take away all her newtons and bristlewort! Do not let her cast a spell!” Escape the Dungeon Salsburah sits quietly in her dungeon. She’s huddled in the corner, hugging her knees in despair. “Stop hugging your knees in there!” yells the guard by the door. “It’s making me depressed! I lose my appetite when depressed!” Salsburah stands ands look out the window, gripping her hands around the bars. She stares at Triskut and his men, fishing on the lake. They laugh in a drunken stupor, tossing fish into their boats like candy. “Look at those gluttons,” says Salsburah with ire. “If only I had my magic ingredients and spell book, I’d turn them all into the things they caught. But alas, I am stuck in this cold, dark dungeon. It smells in here, too. Guard! Will you stop farting?! Lay off the beans!” The guard sticks up his middle finger. “I will do whatever I want,” he says. “You can’t stop me. I can eat all the beans I want! In fact, I think I will go on an all bean diet! I will have lima beans for breakfast, jumping beans for lunch, kidney beans for dinner, and jelly beans for dessert! What say you to that, old hag sorcerer?!” A blonde girl in a hooded red robe appears outside the dungeon. “Hello,” she says, “to the guard. I have come to see my nana.” The guard looks at the cake she is holding in her hands. “Is that a cake?” he asks. “Yes,” replies the blonde girl. “It is. It’s layered with lemon custard and chocolate shavings. It’s for my nana. She has a bit of a sweet tooth. Not that her tooth is actually sweet, it means she likes to eat sweet things. Just for your information, some people don’t know.” The guard nods. “Yes. I am aware.” “Give the cake to my nana,” says the blonde. The guard licks his lips and takes the cake. The girl leaves. Her robe sways to and fro before she disappears. “Is that cake for me?” asks Salsburah from in her cell. “Shut up!” yells the guard. “No cake for you! This cake is mine!” Salsburah sticks her head through the bars on the door and looks at the guard. “What?” he says. “You want to watch me eat this scrumptious cake?! Well, well, be my guest. But don’t you judge me! I have a glandular problem.” The guard plunges his face into the cake and eats like a pig. His belly pops out, full of bakery goodness. “My God,” remarks Salsburah, “you ate the whole thing! What is wrong with you?! Don’t you even know how many calories are in a single slice?! It’s like 500 calories!” The guard burps. “Excuse me,” he says, “but when did you turn into Dr. Ho?” Salsburah rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she replies, “do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you are three hundred pounds!” The button on the guard’s shirt pops off. He stands up and yawns...then drops to the ground. Thud! “Yes!” cries Salsburah. “Now I can escape from this godforsaken dungeon! That granddaughter of mine is genius! She put sleeping powder into the cake!” The guard’s mouth opens. A metal file falls out. “Oh my God!” says Salsburah. “No! She is not a genius! The guard just choked to death on the file! Ah, that poor stupid idiot. Well, at least he died on a full stomach.” Salsburah starts to think aloud in her head. “How do I get out?” she says. “The guard is knocked out. It should be no problem, right? I can make all the racket I want. Okay, think Salsburah. What would Jesus do?” A rat suddenly appears in the corner of the dungeon cell. It stands on two of its feet like a human. “Hey, lady,” it says while brushing its fur. “You want out of this place?” Salsburah spins around. “A talking rat! I thought only mice could speak!” “Mickey Mouse isn’t real,” says the rat. “Stop living in fantasy land.” Salsburah nods. “Yes. You’re right. So what are you doing here? Are you going to help free me? Who sent you?” The rat scratches his chin with his hind leg. “Nobody sent me,” he replies. “I’m here on my own merits. Since you’re stuck in here, I’ve decided to use this as an opportunity. I want you to turn my back into a human.” Salsburah winces. “Ugh! I don’t have to kiss you on the lips, do I?!” The rat folds his army defensively. “Well,” he says, “if that’s the way you feel, maybe I should just leave.” “No,” says Salsburah. “I’ll do it if I must. But only if I must.” The rat lowers down. “You don’t need to kiss me,” he says. “Your granddaughter does. You know that hot young thing in the little red riding hood getup?” Salsburah lowers down, staring the rat directly in the eyes. “You want my granddaughter to kiss you?! Ha! Not likely! She’s picky! She doesn’t date rats!” The rat shows his two front teeth in anger. “You want out of here?!” he screeches. “Baby, I’m your only way out! The other guards are going to find their buddy, and it’s off with your head! Your magic ain’t gonna save you this time! You’re magicless! They took away all your fancy gadgets! And even if you could remember a spell, this place is a magic free zone! You’re screwed!” “I am not screwed,” says Salsburah. She lowers down and sticks out her hand like a platform. “Get on. We’re going to get out of here.” The rat gets onto Salsburah’s hand. She lifts him to the bars of the door. He slips through and lands on the guard’s stool. He hops down and grabs the ring of keys with his teeth. “Damn,” it he says while looking up, “I never thought this all the way through.
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