be?”
“Ask God if he is missing an angel, for it appears I have found one!” he said, returning the dagger to its sheath.
“Very witty, Your Grace,” replied the squire flatly, like he’d heard it said one too many times.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it seems you’ve just attempted a cheesy pickup line on me. By the way, from the looks of your clothes, you two have lost your way to the Medieval Times Dinner Theater, or you’re the next Burger King mascot.” My jabs must have worked. The royal stranger was now the one looking dumbfounded.
“What is your name? Tell me, am I rescuing thee or capturing thee?”
“How about you tell me your names? So when I call the sheriff, I can tell him exactly who has been trespassing on my plantation.”
“Thou art a feisty wench! I shall tell you my name. Then thou shall know how to scream my name in my bedchamber tonight!” He nodded proudly to the squire. “’Tis another good one!”
“Yes, Your Wittiness.” The squire sighed.
“I am Charles, Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Sussex, and Master of Great-sex.”
He winked at me, and his smile was playful. Dare I say it was…cute? I have to admit, he was remarkably handsome, despite the medieval costume and roguish behavior. Still, he was hunting on my land.
I covered myself in the plushy panda robe. “You really are something. You need to get off my land. Just turn around, get back on your horse, and ride away before I cast a spell on you. If you’re lucky, you’ll only end up as a toad for a day.”
“Meow, meow.” Darcy contributed a vulgar insult.
The mischievous look on his face was instantly replaced by one of anger. “Squire, seize her! And her little pussy, too. This wench may be a witch and that hairy pussy may be her familiar!”
The squire was quick, too quick for a chance of escape. Before I knew it, my hands were tied together and I was walking behind the two horsemen, forced along by the pack of noisy dogs.
Darcy fared better. She bolted away from the dogs and disappeared into the nearby woods. I had no worries about her. She was smart and tough. Not only would she avoid these villains, she’d find a way to rescue me. So I hoped.
The men talked, but other than a few words, the noisy dogs made it impossible to hear what was being said. I knew they mentioned taking me to see “the maiden”, some talk about a court, and not surprisingly, some snickering about my breasts.
It was about that moment when I figured the whole scene was nothing but a vivid dream. Probably brought on by potato salad that had seen its better days, I thought.
This was one of those critical forks in the road that rarely come along in dreams. I had a choice; do I wake myself up? Of course not! Any fool knows a dream is perfectly safe. So, as weird as things had turned, I decided to happily go along just to see what happened next.
After walking about a mile, we passed through a small wooded area and came upon a huge English country manor. It was as enchanting as the ones I’d seen in paintings and from the numerous guards in armor, it was also more intimidating. The wooden gates opened and we passed through a bustling courtyard.
My dream was right on the mark. It looked just like a television series Randy and I’d watched about the Tudors.
“Greetings, Charles. You are certainly the best huntsman in the kingdom. Most men return with hares or stags, you return with wenches! What is this one like? She appears to wear the hide of a strange beast. And look! She wears the heads of unicorns upon her feet! I would advise you to not take her lightly. She may be a sorceress.”
“There is nothing to fear, Lord Tossinoff. This is not the hag that is thy mother-in-law! This fair one is as beautiful as my other foundling, the Maiden Bangladesh. Squire, examine her ghastly and most beastly robe to see if her name is written, as was the Maiden Bangladesh’s name, on her robes.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young squire
“Ask God if he is missing an angel, for it appears I have found one!” he said, returning the dagger to its sheath.
“Very witty, Your Grace,” replied the squire flatly, like he’d heard it said one too many times.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it seems you’ve just attempted a cheesy pickup line on me. By the way, from the looks of your clothes, you two have lost your way to the Medieval Times Dinner Theater, or you’re the next Burger King mascot.” My jabs must have worked. The royal stranger was now the one looking dumbfounded.
“What is your name? Tell me, am I rescuing thee or capturing thee?”
“How about you tell me your names? So when I call the sheriff, I can tell him exactly who has been trespassing on my plantation.”
“Thou art a feisty wench! I shall tell you my name. Then thou shall know how to scream my name in my bedchamber tonight!” He nodded proudly to the squire. “’Tis another good one!”
“Yes, Your Wittiness.” The squire sighed.
“I am Charles, Duke of Suffolk, Earl of Sussex, and Master of Great-sex.”
He winked at me, and his smile was playful. Dare I say it was…cute? I have to admit, he was remarkably handsome, despite the medieval costume and roguish behavior. Still, he was hunting on my land.
I covered myself in the plushy panda robe. “You really are something. You need to get off my land. Just turn around, get back on your horse, and ride away before I cast a spell on you. If you’re lucky, you’ll only end up as a toad for a day.”
“Meow, meow.” Darcy contributed a vulgar insult.
The mischievous look on his face was instantly replaced by one of anger. “Squire, seize her! And her little pussy, too. This wench may be a witch and that hairy pussy may be her familiar!”
The squire was quick, too quick for a chance of escape. Before I knew it, my hands were tied together and I was walking behind the two horsemen, forced along by the pack of noisy dogs.
Darcy fared better. She bolted away from the dogs and disappeared into the nearby woods. I had no worries about her. She was smart and tough. Not only would she avoid these villains, she’d find a way to rescue me. So I hoped.
The men talked, but other than a few words, the noisy dogs made it impossible to hear what was being said. I knew they mentioned taking me to see “the maiden”, some talk about a court, and not surprisingly, some snickering about my breasts.
It was about that moment when I figured the whole scene was nothing but a vivid dream. Probably brought on by potato salad that had seen its better days, I thought.
This was one of those critical forks in the road that rarely come along in dreams. I had a choice; do I wake myself up? Of course not! Any fool knows a dream is perfectly safe. So, as weird as things had turned, I decided to happily go along just to see what happened next.
After walking about a mile, we passed through a small wooded area and came upon a huge English country manor. It was as enchanting as the ones I’d seen in paintings and from the numerous guards in armor, it was also more intimidating. The wooden gates opened and we passed through a bustling courtyard.
My dream was right on the mark. It looked just like a television series Randy and I’d watched about the Tudors.
“Greetings, Charles. You are certainly the best huntsman in the kingdom. Most men return with hares or stags, you return with wenches! What is this one like? She appears to wear the hide of a strange beast. And look! She wears the heads of unicorns upon her feet! I would advise you to not take her lightly. She may be a sorceress.”
“There is nothing to fear, Lord Tossinoff. This is not the hag that is thy mother-in-law! This fair one is as beautiful as my other foundling, the Maiden Bangladesh. Squire, examine her ghastly and most beastly robe to see if her name is written, as was the Maiden Bangladesh’s name, on her robes.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young squire
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