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WHOOPY ON ICE
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As Sir Whoopsalot made his way up the cobblestoned street he huddled himself against the biting wind and cold. It had been a while since he’d been THIS cold. Normally his armor provided at least some protection against the elements but not today. Not in this cold. Whoopy staggered on, fighting to keep his long johns from "riding up" inside his suit of armor. The thermal underwear (and a “strategically-placed” hot water bottle!!) was all that was keeping him warm inside the cold metal. He fought to keep the faceplate shut as protection for his face, but it was no use. The wind just howled right through his helmet as if to taunt him. Momentarily he sought shelter against the wind behind the gatehouse wall but even that was not much comfort. He forced himself to move on and eventually crossed the drawbridge leading into Castle MegaGrande, the King's hangout. Pausing to chat a moment with Sir Hit'emlow, the King's Chief of Court Security, Whoopy finally pushed open the heavy wooden doors leading into the main hall and where he found the Wizard and the King huddled around a small table in front of the fireplace. Both men were anxious about something and the crystal ball on the table was telling a frightful tale of ice and snow. Coming to a Kingdom near you—SOON.
The King and the Wizard were keenly aware of his presence but neither took their attentions away from the crystal ball. Whoopie made his way over to the large fireplace and began to shed some of his armor plating, placing it in front of the fire to warm up. "You sent for me, Sire?" "Yes, George. I think we have a problem on the way and I want to get the jump on it. "Wizzy" here has seen an ice storm on the way in his crystal ball and it should be here by tonight."
"What's he looking at?" asked Whoopy. "He's got it on the ‘Weather Channel.’ But he's having a problem with the forecast. Seems he's not getting good reception and he can’t tell if it will hit tonight or in the morning."
The Wizard shot a disdainful glance at the King and then back at Whoopy. It wasn't HIS fault he bought it off of "E-Bay" and it was busted. He tried to return it but it was a bargain deal and he was stuck with it.
"The big problem here George is what do we do to prepare for it?" asked the King in his usual conciliatory tone. He was usually informal with the members of his inner circle. To others his stance was considerably more regal and befitting of a monarchy. But now concern was the order of the day and it was felt all around the room. Plans were discussed and orders were issued but in the end it all came down to a rough couple of days. And everyone knew it.
Whoopy made his way back to the fireplace and grabbed his armored feet to put back on. He hadn't realized he'd placed them so close to the fire and the metal was HOT! As George struggled to place the armored boot on his foot he suddenly became aware of the burning in his toes and he began to yell and hop around on one leg, all the while attempting to get the shoe off with both hands. The King and the Wizard both grabbed Whoopy in a fruitless attempt to help him but it was no use. All three fell against the table with the crystal ball and it was sent flying. Fortunately a young squire was coming into great room to inquire about all the fuss and intercepted the ball in mid-flight. Right about then the Queen entered the room and declared the “play” dead on the 30 yard line. All three men looked at each other in utter frustration. It was going to be a long night.
Whoopy had been asked to form a task force of sorts to iron out problems associated with the storm. To that end he had assembled some of the Knighthood and a few trusted squires and they joined him atop the western parapet wall to overlook the village. Darkness was almost upon them and the wind had subsided to a standstill. The clouds had grown thick and dark. They were bluish-grey and heavily laden with moisture as they made their way across the heavens. The sights and smells of the village had been those of a peaceful hamlet where food was being prepared and a good “Knight’s” (pardon the pun! Hehe) rest was being contemplated. Albeit, from inside warm homes with roaring fireplaces. The glow from various windows and the smoke and fragrances from stoves permeated the air. But now the scene was rapidly changing. Ice was beginning to fall from the sky and it was intermingled with rain—the worst kind. It would stick to everything.
"Whoopy, you'd better tell the Crier to issue school closings and warn the Village Milliner to make more bread." "Yes, Sire!" Whoopy obediently complied and started for the steps that lead to the courtyard below. He didn't make it. A slight misstep on an ice patch took him down like so much sheet metal from a reclamation project. He came crashing down on his back and woke up nearly half the castle. The King and the Wizard looked on in amazement. Had the ice taken hold that quickly? Two squires ran to assist Whoopy and he gingerly made his way up to his feet. One of the squires was sent to deliver the messages the King had given to Whoopy. He made his way back across the battlement, staggering all the way like a drunkard. The scene below was beginning to be one of chaos. A lone horse was dragging a cart up the cobblestoned street and lost his footing. He crashed to the ground like a sack of bones and the cart was loosed to roll back down the hill and it ended up in the moat. Seems this particular wagon was smuggling women to the "house" over on Duggit St. and when the wagon hit the water all the women all came out screaming and fighting mad. Luckily, all of them made it.
The town Crier was attempting to broadcast the news of school closing when he went down too. Hard. He had just started to say something about Medieval Elementary School when he lost his footing and finished his statement with an un-savory explicative, not to be repeated in mixed company. His words were especially loud and they echoed off the castle walls with a solid and clear reverberation. Two of the Village Nobles were attempting to mount their horses in front of the tavern when they too fell victim to the slippery ice and found the earth with a passion. One of the horses got spooked and tried to run. Fortunately, due to the ice, he was running in place. At a full gallop no less. Sir Wenchalot ambled up to him and smacked him soundly across his snout. He stopped running and looked confused. How could he get smacked if he was running?! Hmmm. Right about then basic physics overtook logic and the horse lost his footing and went down. With a vengeance.
Sir Bounderbutt had witnessed an attempted theft in the village green and had taken off in hot pursuit of the youthful offender. The perpetrator must have had cleats on his slippers because he was making a clean getaway. Bounderbutt himself was doing no better than the horse. He'd get up on his feet and attempt to run and then nose dive into the bricks with such force as to wake the dead. All that armor plating made it sound like a two-cart collision in a soup kitchen. Whoopy was still sitting on his haunches, licking his wounds, when suddenly everyone was astounded to see a large tongue of flame come shooting out of the icy sky and turn one of the castle guards into "Peking Duck". The toasted soldier ran screaming across the parapet walls, yelping like a scared dog and eventually dove over the Castle wall and into the moat. Made a big splash too. Had this been in the summer time he would have been a shoe-in for the King’s pool party splash contest.
In all the excitement in the village below, no one had observed the Dragon leave his mountaintop lair and take flight to the valley below. He’d spied the King, Whoopy, the Wizard and a cast of dozens atop the Castle parapets and couldn't pass up such tempting targets. Oh, to "toast" the King!!!! What a night. Yippeeeeee!!
But something was wrong. It didn't feel right. He was getting heavier as he flew. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd made good progress with that "Liz Taylor" diet he'd been on. But now, as he wheeled and soared through the chilly sky, his wings were getting heavier. He couldn't flap them as he should and he was losing altitude—fast! He tried to fight it and claw for altitude but it was a losing proposition. He was coming down with purpose. But where!? Little choice remained. He was headed for the main drag and closing in fast. He was completely out of control—and he knew it. Nobility and guard watched helplessly as he descended toward the village. All the while he spouted flames in anger and perhaps a smidgen of fear. In those last few seconds he attempted to apply power and adjust his flight path but it was just no use. He glided in from the leeward side like a lead Frisbee and tried to settle on his, uh, feet?
Whatever! Anyway, he hit and started back-pedaling in earnest but it was no good. He looked more like a drunken circus clown on roller skates than a proud character of myth and legend. He careened forward on the icy stones like they were greased, his erratic misfortunes taking him directly toward----you guessed it-----the Sanitarium. He bounced off a couple of buildings and the town Crier in a frantic attempt to stop but it was a no-go. The Dragon came crashing in the front doors of the "loony bin", taking frame and hinge with him and continuing on through to the "maximum security" holding areas, ripping out bars and cage as he went. He finally came to a stop in a heap against the back wall. He shook his head and wondered what that ringing noise in his head was!? Amidst the carnage in the front lobby were two vacuum cleaner repairmen and the bagel salesman. Yep. Him again.
All manner of adventurous chivalry converged on the Sanitarium to confront the Dragon but it was obvious the elements were the worst enemy. From atop the castle walls the King and Queen surveyed the scene. With everyone struggling to gain and regain their footing it looked like a “sock-hop” in the middle of an earthquake.
From deep inside the sanitarium building the sounds of screams, obscenities and a loud rending of building materials could be heard as the Dragon fought to retain some kind of dignity and escape the madness. He would blow flames at anyone who made a noise, which in turn caused more noise and before long all that could be seen was flame and debris in the air. Right about then the lights went out as the heavy ice claimed their first power lines. The King sat down on his royal bench and placed his face in his hands. He began to sob. The Queen eased herself over to him and tried to comfort him. The scene below was bedlam. The only light was the Dragon's flame and all manner of noise was heard in the freezing darkness. Just as the King was about to regain some composure, a slender man with bugged-out eyes, wearing all white clothes and his arms bound behind his back with adjustable straps came running down the castle wall, bouncing off of the crenels and yelling something about the end of the world. Behind one of the parapet turrets huddled two of the more intrepid squires, trading bets on who the Dragon would toast next. The score was two nurses and a wagon driver so far. At least one of the Knighthood got lit up but all that did was to warm his suit. The Dragon took issue with that one. He got worried he was losing his touch. Right about then someone made a comment about bad breath and a "Tic Tac" and the fight was rejoined. Peace was not at hand.
Not tonight anyway.
The King sobbed. The Dragon roared. The ice fell.
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