Twice Upon a Time Part One

-Twice Upon an Interruption-

“Twice upon a time on the Island of Twins lived a rich and dishonest Emperor named Tania Gudenard.” began Petra, absently poking the crackling fire with a long gnarly stick. “She was obsessed with her riches and counted…”

“What’s ofsest mean?” interrupted Curtis.

“Obsessed…it means to be overly concerned with a single subject. With Tania, it all about how much money she had, and she had oodles of it, all stacked up inside a large underground dungeon guarded by giant trolls...”

“The trolls were twins too, aye Pets”

Petra scowled disapproving at her young cousin. His constant interruptions often turned the shortest of tales into epic sagas. The suspicious part of her mind assumed he was purposely extending her stories to avoid an early night, while a more positive part leaned towards enthusiasm; that Curtis did not only want to hear stories but to become part of them.

“I can’t tell this story if you keep interrupting me… and you do want to hear this story, don’t you sweetie?”

“Yeah… Couse I wanna hear about the ofsested umperer.”

“Okay… now where was I…?”

“Trolls were atrolling the dungeon,”

“Curtis!”

“But you asked where you were up to.”

Curtis’s moistening eyes quickly quelled her anger. She drew a heavy sigh and slowly composed herself.

“Anyway, at the end of each week she would go into the dungeon and count her money to make sure none of it was missing. This, of course, could have been done by any number of her minions but she had grown suspicious of everyone, even the trolls.

“Then one afternoon a Day in Dull Armour ventured through the gates of her mansion…and before you even ask, Days in Dull Armour were similar to “Knights in Shining Armour,” except they were far from moral. Days were usually peasants unable to pay taxes. They were fitted with old rusty armour and ordered to roam the Island on the backs of antelopes undertaking the most wicked of quests until they earned enough money to repay their taxes with interest.”

A cold southerly breeze suddenly swept the campsite, cutting through Petra’s scant attire and chilling her to the bone. The dancing flames dissipated like small winged demons taking flight, but quickly regrouped once the wind had died.

“Days of the square-table,” mused Curtis too preoccupied with his own imagination to concern himself with such gusts.

“This Day,” she continued abandoning the stick and wrapping her arms around her legs to keep from shivering. “Was a most horrid of all Days. Even the evil goblins that dwelt in “The Forest of Brigands” treated him with caution.

“His name was Clothbilly Roundcoat. A large bald man with a bushy beard who was once well-respected tandem bike merchant until he lost his house, business and family to gambling debts. He had been locked away and was forced to study the ways of the Day. Unfortunately he learned too well and soon became a force to be reckoned with, wreaking a terrible vengeance on his fellow gamblers whom he was convinced had cheated him out of his money.

“He had come to the castle with some very important … Curtis, stop picking your nose!”

“I was only scratching the inside of it,” protested Curtis quickly withdrawing his index finger.

“Well don’t. Snot is Nature’s glue that holds your nose in place. If you pick it all out then your nose will fall off and you’ll be left looking quite silly...especially if you have to sneeze.”

“Me step-mum 'id save heaps not buying handachifs. Anyways how do you sneeze without a nose?”

“I’ll tell you when you get older.”

“I once hearded someone on telly say that by the time he was old enough to know all that he was once too young to know about, he’d be too old to do anything about it...whatever that means.”

“Be that as it may we still have a long way to go in our story and I’m afraid we’ve
only really just began. Maybe we should leave the rest for tomorrow night. After all it’s getting late.”

“But I’m not even tired! Please tell me more of the story... Please!”

“No we’d best…”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top and hunded’s and thousands and…and narny cake with ice cream…and”

“Oh alright, but you have to be quiet. If you interrupt me, then the story will cease…I mean it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pets. I’ll be quiet as a church mousey…Saint Curtis at your service.”

She smiled as he pressed his palms together in a prayer-like attitude and gazed upwards, humming benevolently as if one with the cosmos.

“Clothbilly had come to the castle to with some very important news for Tania. During one of his quests he, with a small army of other Days, henchmen and an assortment of ogres that he’d befriended, had sailed across the waters to the Island of Triplets and battled with King Trisotops’s Imperial-Tsunami-Troopers. Though their attempt had proven unsuccessful they had learned some information that would be of great interest to Tania.

“In the midst of battle one of the Tsunami-Troopers had found himself at the mercy of Clothbilly’s dagger had offered to share a well-kept Imperial Secret in exchange for the sparing of his life. Duopoly, Tania’s estranged twin brother, was being held as a prisoner in the Castle tower. He had apparently acquired a treasure worth three times as much as was in Tania’s Dungeon.

“Duopoly had refused to divulge the exact location of the treasure but there were rumours that he might be weakening and it was only a matter of time until King Trisotops’s henchmen got it out of him, unless someone got to him first…someone like perhaps an estranged twin sister. But it would take the might of the entire armed forces of The Island of Twins to free him.

“Protection of the shoreline and Mansion had always been of upmost importance to Tania. Any venture that included removing the armed forces would be extremely risky. A successful invasion in their absence would no doubt lead to the overthrowing of the mansion and she would surely lose her fortune. The trolls, as large and menacing as they were, would be no match for an army. But the thought of getting even more wealth was something she could not easily dismiss, especially…”

Petra halted in mid-sentence and stared over at Curtis, whom seemed to be in much distress. His face had become strained and feet kept shifting from one position to other, while his body twitched intermittently.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” she asked with concern.

“Gotta go bush,” he whimpered. Tears were beginning to swell again “But can’t interrupt story.”

“Told you not to drink too much juice...well, you’d better go then. I could probably do with a break myself. Don’t wander too far and don’t pee anywhere near the river.”

“I won’t,” promised Curtis springing to his feet and running awkwardly towards the thicket of bushes to the south of the campsite.

The monotonous call of a distant Moorpork lulled Petra as she sat staring deeply into the fire; pondering how best to continue the story. Her grandmother had been a prolific writer and was the chief inspiration for her soon to be published children’s' short-story anthology.

“Perhaps Shiek Forbes should make an appearance,” she thought aloud “Him and his four wives.”

Petra still remembered the interview she had seen with a polygamist Shriek who proclaimed one wife was not enough, two would always fight, three one always got left out, while four was just right.

“Twice upon time, twice, on the “Island of Quads” Shiek Forbes shared a herem with four beautiful wives…”

(continues)