Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming Part 30

Brigitte was playing with her dollhouse when she heard something behind her. She turned slowly, a question already forming on her lips, a question which was lost due to the moue of surprise she gave when she saw who was standing there, tall, red-furred, with a mean smile on his face.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Azzie! How are you?"

"I am very well, Brigitte," Azzie said. "And you look well. And I can hear the sound of a pen scratching in an upstairs room, so I suppose Thomas Scrivener is living up to his name and recording something about the events that have befallen him recently."

"Indeed he is," Brigitte said. "But he tells me he doesn't know the ending."

"It may surprise him," Azzie said. "Indeed, methinks it may surprise all of us. Heh, heh, heh."

"What a sinister chuckle you have,Azzie," Brigitte said. "Why have you come?"

"I've brought you a present, child," Azzie said.

"Ooo! Let me see!"

"Here it is." Azzie brought out a box made of difficult-to-acquire cardboard and, opening it, showed within the little guillotine.

"How nice!" Brigitte said. "It looks like the perfect thing for cutting off the heads of my dollies."

"And so it is," Azzie said. "But you really shouldn't do that, because you love your dolls and "would be sad to see them without heads."

"That's true," Brigitte said, and she began to snivel in antic.i.p.ation of her bereavement.

"But how can I play with my new guillotine if I do not cut off the heads of my dolls?" She looked around.

"Maybe one of the new puppies - "

"No, Brigitte," Azzie said. "I am evil, but I am not cruel to animals. There's a special h.e.l.l reserved for those who are. You see, my dear, these toys must be used with care, and played with in due gravity."

"It's no fun if I can't cut off anyone's head," Brigitte said.

So far his plan, which was of that brand of evil termed nasty, was proceeding perfectly.

"Stop sniveling," Azzie said. "I am going to bring you something special."

"What is it?"

"Something whose head can be cut off!"

"Oh, Uncle Azzie!" She ran to him and embraced him. "When will I get this something?"

"Soon, my dear, very soon. Be a good girl and play now. Uncle Azzie will return presently with your new gift."

COMPLINE.

The Nameless Horror

Chapter 1.

Prince Charming and Princess Scarlet set up house-keeping in a modest castle Cinderella had recommended, in a region of great natural beauty on the Rhine. Briar roses grew round about it.

Charming converted his shield into a planter for sweet herbs. Good spirits danced around their hearth.

s.e.xy spirits inhabited their bedroom.

"Charming! Would you come here a moment?" Scarlet called.

He looked up from the garden, where he was working away among the organically grown vegetables.

"Where are you, love?"

"In the bedroom."

"I'm on my way."

High in the room's northwestern corner, as he held her, kissed her, and caressed her, an eye opened and regarded them. As they fell upon the big feather bed, watched over by indulgent spirits of the Good who celebrated their part in the glorious Millennium, the eye regarded them for a moment. As he unlaced her blouse and drew it up over her head, the eye winked out.

Chapter 2.

Back in his mansion in Augsburg, Azzie turned off his all-seeing eye, one of the last items he'd picked up from Supply.

Suddenly there was a sound from outside. Looking out of the window, he saw a Nameless Horror picking its way up the path. It was vaguely man-shaped, it had one talon in a sling, and it wore an eye patch.

"Hail, Azzie," the Nameless Horror said.

"Hail yourself, Nameless Horror," Azzie said. "You have about five seconds to tell me why you have invaded my awesome solitude before I boot your Shapeless a.s.s out of here."

The apparition's eye sockets glowed. Its mouth curled into an approximation of a smile.

"Ah, milord Azzie, you talk exactly as I thought you would! I've been so longing to meet you!"

"What the h.e.l.l is this all about?" Azzie asked.

"I'm your greatest admirer," the Horror said. "I hope to do great things in the world. At present I am only an apprentice demon, and am serving my time doing Nameless Horror work. But I know that will come to an end and I will be awarded full demon status. Then I hope to be just like you!"

"That's a laugh," Azzie said, laughing sardonically, but flattered in spite of himself. "Me, the failure, the loser."

"You are not up on recent events," it said, solidifying slightly to improve its enunciation. "The Powers of Evil have decided to grant you a prize extraordinary." It held out to Azzie a small box. Azzie opened it and found within a small statuette of a stylized demon, done in nasty orange, all except for the eyes, which were colored green.

"What's this piece of rubbish?" Azzie asked.

"It's a special award for Best Evil Deed of the Millennium."

"But what's it for?"

The Nameless Horror took out a scroll from somewhere within its shapeless clothing. It read, "This is in acknowledg-ment of a masterful performance at the Millennial Awards Din-ner, when the said Azzie Elbub did disrupt and confound the proceedings with various Hateful Visitations, thus proving that, even in defeat for the main prize,viz., direction of man's destiny for a thousand years, the said Azzie Elbub has shown the ef-frontery and sangfroid that marks the true "worker in the vine-yards of Evil."

Azzie accepted the award and turned it this "way and that. It was really very nice. It was not the mam prize, "which the Powers of Good had won by default, despite the cathedral fiasco, as a continuation of a previous victory. It would look very nice on his mantel.

"Well, thank you, young demon," Azzie said. "It's sort of a consolation prize, I suppose, but welcome nonetheless. You say you admire me, eh?"

"That is correct," the Nameless Horror said, and after that intoned some lines of praise so fulsome in their ingratiation that another being "would have been embarra.s.sed. But Azzie, who was not much bothered by self-doubt - only the insufficiency of others-was well pleased.

"Thank you, Nameless Horror. I accept this prize, and please tell the committee that I am well pleased by it. Now go you and do evil!"

"That's what I "was hoping you'd say," it replied, and took itself away.

Chapter 3.

It was very nice getting the prize, but that was not all. Soon after, there was a brightening of light around the Augsburg mansion.

"Now who the h.e.l.l is that?" Azzie remarked. He didn't appreciate all the interruptions when he was getting ready for a good sulk.

This shape took its time solidifying. Azzie waited, and it finally took on the form and substance of Babriel.

"Hail, Azzie!" Babriel cried, standing tall and blond and as stupid looking as before.

"Yeah, hail and all that," Azzie said. "You want to rub it in, I suppose?"

"Not at all. You know I never gloat."

"That's true," Azzie said, "and it makes you all the more annoying."

"You're a great kidder," Babriel replied. "But let me tell you why I'm here."

"If you wish," Azzie said. "It makes no difference to me."

"By the powers vested in me by the Committee for the Powers of Light," Babriel said, reading from a scroll he had taken out of the white folds of his robe, "we hereby present a special Power of Light award to AzzieElbub, demon, but not utterly d.a.m.ned, for the good services he did for the Powers of Light in helping us win the destiny of mankind for the next thousand years."

So saying, he removed from his bosom a small effigy of an angel, done in a sickly yellow white, with glinty blue eyes and cutesy little wings.

"Well," Azzie said, pleased despite himself, "that's very nice of the Powers of Light. Very nice indeed."

He struggled to find something ugly to say, but for the moment was overcome. He had received awards from both the Powers of Light and of Darkness. He was pretty sure he was the first ever to win both awards.

After Babriel had left, Azzie fell to musing. He set his two awards down on a table and looked at them.

Theywere rather attractive things. He was pleased despite himself. Rage still boiled, however, when he considered how near he had come to winning the real one, the big one, the Millennial Award itself. But there was no use brooding over it.

For now, what he needed was a little rest and-strange how the thought should occur to him - some home cooking, before shrinking his enemies and delivering them to Brigitte and her guillotine. His thoughts strayed to Ylith. He hadn't paid much attention to her recently; he'd been too preoccupied with putting together his entry. But now it was over.

He mused. He could use a vacation. There was a nice spot he recalled in India where generations of a.s.sa.s.sins had worked, killing their thousands of victims each year as they attached themselves to the great pilgrimages. The a.s.sa.s.sins had built a special resort on the flat top of a low mountain somewhere north of the Ganges. He was sure he could find it again. It would be fun to go there with Ylith. He remembered the amuse-ments that had been available last time: bowling with human heads, croquet matches with giraffes' necks, table tennis with eyeb.a.l.l.s. Yes, it was time he gave Ylith a break.

Chapter 4.

Just then the doorbell rang. It was the postman. He de-livered a huge sack made of horsehide and standing about three feet high. The bag wriggled, and piteous moans came from it.

"Who's that?" Azzie asked.

"It's me, master," Frike's m.u.f.fled voice said from within. "Master, I would really appreciate it if you'd put me back together again."

"And so I shall," Azzie said. "But first I've got some work to do. Have you seen Ylith?"

"I can't see anything from in here," Frike said. "Could you please reconst.i.tute me?"

There came the sound of singing, from upstairs.

"All in good time," Azzie said. "I think I hear her now."