Bill Brewer's Stuff: prose

The Last Knight

Saint George and the Dragon - Detail of St. George - Paolo Uccello

Once upon a time there was a knight in shining armor who rode a magnificent white steed. This knight journeyed through life providing good deeds of friendship to those in need of such.

It came to pass one day that this knight happened upon a monstrous fire-breathing dragon, who had swallowed a beautiful princess whole. The knight, intent on freeing the beautiful princess from the belly of the beast, devoted all knightly efforts to this singular task.

In time, the futility of this endeavor became evident. The knight, badly burned by the dragon’s fire, could barely raise his shield. Many people suffered because the knight was not available to help them, as freeing the beautiful princess became his most urgent objective, and demanded the majority of his time and attention.

The people no longer turned to the knight for help, and soon came to look upon his effort as folly. The knight, long ago having decided not to direct his life by the opinions of others, paid no heed to the advice of wise counsel.

In the end, the knight was mortally wounded by a claw which pierced his heart. With his last breath he uttered a prayer that some other brave knight would follow him and succeed in the effort to free the beautiful princess.

The last sight seen by the dying knight’s eyes as the dragon’s jaws opened and moved hungrily toward him, was the princess in the depths of the dragon’s huge stomach. She was laughing.

Conversation

“No way did she do that!”
“Yeah, dude, like she totally did!”
“No way!”
“Way, dude.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.”
“But she was, like, fine just last week. I saw her.”
“Who knows, dude. You wanna get something to eat?”
“Aw, man! How could she even, like, do that? Yeah, I guess. Arby’s still got five for five?”
“Dunno. I always get the French dip.”
“Dude! They’re totally awesome! With that sauce, you know?”
“And curly fries.”
“What is that sauce? Like something juice or something?”
“Something. You driving?”
“Okay. I gotta stop and get some gas first.”
“Go to SuperAmerica so I can use the ATM.”
“Okay. Dude, you going to Megan’s party tomorrow night?”

The Magic Show at the Harry Potter Book Release Party

Well, I’d been practicing. Let me just say that right up front - I HAD been practicing. Got pretty good, too, if I do say so myself. I’d always liked magic, and making kids laugh, so of course I volunteered to do a magic show.

I was pretty excited about it, too. A little nervous, sure, but a lot excited. The local Barnes & Noble was throwing a party in their store for the release of the seventh and final Harry Potter book, and since I worked there, well of course I volunteered.

So I practiced. Even ordered a magician’s costume, and printed some cards that I could give to impressed parents who might want to hire a magician for their kid’s birthday party.

But - I had no idea at all how many people would be there. I was supposed to do a show every half hour from seven to eleven. I was figuring on a handful of nice, well-behaved, awestruck little kids for every performance - not over a hundred people from the ages of three to seventy-three jockeying for position near the stage, and the people in the back shouting at me to speak louder.

Here’s a tip - never do a trick with fire in a bookstore, even if you can guarantee ninety-five percent controllability of the fire. Here’s another tip - if you ignore the first tip make sure you know the location of the nearest extinguisher.

It's a good thing there wasn’t another inferno in town that night, cause every fire engine in the city was at the bookstore.

I must say the paramedics were very efficient. They got me into the ambulance and away from the scene before I could even say I really had been practicing. So happens I was the only one who sustained injuries from the ordeal.

So now I’m recuperating in the hospital. I wasn’t burned - no, I was sent here courtesy of the pummeling I received. See, twenty-one hundred people had pre-ordered their very own copy of the book, to be released at the stroke of midnight. Said copies which I burned up at seven-fifteen.

Cisco

The first thing I noticed when I entered my apartment and turned on the light was the disembodied head lying in the foyer. I turned the light off and flicked it back on. The head was still there.

Not again. I walked into the kitchen, ripped a paper towel from the dispenser, and went back to the foyer. Using the towel, I gingerly picked up the head and carried it back to the kitchen where I dropped it in the wastebasket.

The muted sound of a small motorboat accompanied the feeling of pressure against my left leg. Cisco was pleased and proud of his offering.

My cat purred and I scratched the top of his head. Lately he’d been spending his days patrolling the yard in search of prey. If his hunt was successful, he’d reenter through the cat door carrying a trophy in his jaws. He always left it in the foyer so I’d be sure to see the result of his craftiness when I returned home.

I picked him up. Doubtless the body of the bird, or what remained of it, was either in his belly or hidden in the yard. Too dark out to look for it now. I had yet to find one of the birds anyway. Cisco was good at disposing of the bodies. But he always left the heads for me.

I checked his food, refilled his water bowl, and grabbed a beer for myself out of the fridge. I sprawled on the couch and hit the remote for the TV.

I found the news story breaking on Channel 4. Police had found the latest victim of the serial killer that had been active in the city for the past few months. This was the sixth death attributed to the killer. Another beheaded body found in an alleyway.

Cisco, I thought, someday I’ll have to show you how to dispose of the heads.