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The Wizard, The Rat, and the Blacksmiths




Once upon a time....hold on wait a minute, before I begin, I think I should have you
informed about a few things. If you are offended by yeti police officers, the
numerous, savage death of innocent animals, and the constant belittling of Harry
Potter and other such tales, then I would like it to be known that you can hunt
chipmunks with a machine gun ‘cause I frankly do not care (no offense).


Now then, on with story, once upon a time, oh.... let’s say ‘round the 12th
century, lived two blacksmiths. They lived together in a creaky old cottage in the
middle of the Shawshire Forest, at the edge of the tiny village of Margoon. Around
the old cottage was a handsome little stream with an ancient, oak wood arched
bridge(seldom used, only customers visit).


All the village people(not the band thank God)knew the only two blacksmiths
of Margoon and looked down upon them. They were labeled as outcasts, oddballs
and just plain weirdoes. Their long spiked hair of many peculiar colors(no
one knows exactly how they do it)and piercings at the age of 14&15(Henry being
oldest) support their thoughts. Henry and Don already know of the names and
atrocious gossip that has been tattooed on their reputation and don’t care(besides,
their renegade ways make themselves irresistible to the
attractive young bachlorettes of Margoon). Being the teens they are, they live happy
care-free lives. But as they’ll soon discover today will be a particularly bad day for
the both of them.


That Thursday seemed to be any normal day for the young blacksmiths.
Henry was in the workshop softening the iron for Mr. Griswald’s horse-shoes for his
extremely fat horse(then again it might be for his whale of a wife, she has more rolls
than the town bakery). Henry’s eyes were suddenly overcome by tears. That darned
smoke filled the
entire house, they never got around to building those chimneys, or even full sized
doors as a matter of fact. The front door may be suitable for a large dog but certainly
not for a human. No one knows why they built the door so small (a few people
believe that their parents were abusive opium addicts. which isn’t true by the
way)exactly, but when truth be told, they did it for the sweet humiliation of it
all(They get away with this because there isn’t another blacksmith for another
50-miles). With a formally brown cottage stained black from smoke and a tiny door,
it only supports thoughts and rumors.


Henry began to feel really hot working over the burning coals and he wiped
sweat from his brow. He was so busy working on the horse shoes that he didn’t even
notice his drooping hair. The grease that held his hair up, began to melt. A drop of
grease dripped into the inferno, sending up a flame. It happened so suddenly that he
just stood there for a few seconds with one of those oh crap looks. Finally he
screamed aloud and began running around the room. He found his way out of the
room, and charged down the hall towards the kitchen. Don was preparing roast
duck for lunch when Henry burst through the door, screaming. Henry beat furiously
at his enflamed hair and fell to the floor. Startled, he grabbed for the water bucket
and extinguished
Henry’s flaming hair. They were both frightened, but relieved. Henry began patting
at his scorched hair when they suddenly heard a loud bang at the door.


They crawled outside and uncovered a strange red, robed man, sprawled on
the ground, covered with bits and pieces of a broom. The stranger appeared to be
dead. Blood poured from a wound on his head and he wasn’t moving at all. Don
picked up a branch and began prodding the man. After a few
pokes, he stirred. With some difficulty he stood up and cracked his back. Henry,
feeling concern, asked the man, “Hey pal are you all right?”


Though finding the way they speak peculiar, he answered him. “Oh me, I’ll
be just fine,” he put a bandage on his head. “Give me a few moments and I’ll
explain why I’m here. I’m sorry for crashing into your door, I’m quite a bad broom
rider.”


Don replied, “Yeah, that’s what we figured. I mean you really do stink, and I
don’t use the term stink lightly. Man you really suck!”


He made a momentary annoyed look from the rude comment. He dusted his
pointed hat off, polished and adjusted his half-moon spectacles mind you, and put
on a phony salesman smile and said to them, “Well any way, I am Abyss
Fumblelore. I am a wizard here on behalf of the “Hogmarts” of Ireland, Scotland,
Wales and southern England. Store of witchcraft and wizardry.” He handed them
both shiny business cards.


“Why only southern England?” Don asked.


“The reason why we only do the southern part of England is because the
northern part was taken over by the catholic church. For some reason they like to
torch my kind of people. Oh well, enough of that. I’m a salesman here to try to sell
you both my company’s latest product. The wondrous, stupendous and magnificent,
Demon-B-Gone!” He exclaimed, pulling out a small spray can.


“So....”Henry said. “You talk about it like it’s the Holy Grail, it looks pretty
crappy to me,” he said very bluntly.


He mumbled something under his breath, enraged by the comment. “Hey it
could come in handy! The potion within was created to repel any in-human evil
forces, such as demons, poltergeists and Yorkshire democrats. And only five gold
coins! ”


Now Don spoke, “Yeah it “could” come in handy but I’m more fascinated
with the steel thing it’s contained in.”


“Yes what is that steel thinga-ma-bobby?” Henry added.


“Oh that, That’s the spray can. My company’s second newest, and most
non-magical invention,” he said with a sudden blasé tone.


Instantly, they both simultaneously dug in their pockets for some money for
Abyss.


“These two nit-wits are only buying it for the can, so typical of non-magical
people, oh well, a sale is a sale,” Abyss thought to himself.


Abyss took them inside the cottage and they exchanged their money for the
merchandise. He was about to leave the two blacksmiths to their new toys when he
suddenly remembered something.


“Oh yes, before I leave I need to ask you two something. Have you seen any
ducks with blue backpacks around here? They’re used to send out fliers, I trained
‘em and named ‘em myself. They mean everything to me.”


“Yeah we have, why?” Don asked.


“There has been a great deal of them missing and they all seem to disappear
around this area,” The wizard answered.


The wizard sniffed the air, “Hmmm I say, what a delicious smell,” Abyss
said with drool spilling down his chin as he entered the kitchen. “Ho, ho, ho,
whatever it is it must be scrumptious.... OMIGOD!”


The sight he saw was sickening(in his point of view and maybe any
disgruntled vegetarians that might be reading this he, he, he). He witnessed two
large boxes filled with the bodies of slain messenger ducks. But the next thing he saw
almost made him hurl his breakfast. It was a duck being roasted in the oven with the
fire being fed by duck backpacks.


“Oh you meant those ducks,” Henry said. “Whoops! Oh well, it’ll be worth
it. Mmmm, I just can’t wait to sink my teeth into that plump juicy duck. You can
join us for lunch if you want to.” He was licking his lips and rubbing his stomach.


Tears rolled down his cheeks and cold, harsh fury flickered madly in his eyes.
“You sirs have offended my honor!” he said fiercely rolling up his sleeves. “I
challenge you to a duel!” Abyss suddenly began to increase in size and fires of fury
engulfed him. He pulled out a long, albino colored wand and pointed it at the two
unfortunate blacksmiths. He began chanting words, capable of smiting the both of
them at the very spot.


Courageously, Henry boldly put his hand in front of the wand. “Whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey man, it would be pretty unfair if you killed two defenseless
teens. You have a wand and we don’t.” He was scared stiff by actually having the
guts to say it, he nearly wet himself.


The enraged Abyss replied, “hmmm I suppose you’re right. So I’ll give you a
fair chance and sick my demon rat on you,” he said with a twisted grin.


The insane wizard reached his hand into one of his large pockets and pulled
out an evil looking, small, fat rat. He placed it on the kitchen table and pointed his
wand his wand at it. Abyss cried, “GIGANTISM!”


The former small, evil, fat they had just seen a second ago began growing at
an incredible rate. By the time it stopped growing, it was ten times larger and had an
extremely long tail that cracked like a whip when it moved it. It’s glistening, black
eyes examined the frightened blacksmiths. The hideous creature turned it’s ugly
head to Abyss and spoke, “Masterrrr, wot is yer biding?” the thing asked.


Fiery rage alight in his eyes and he said, “Francis, I want you to beat the
bloody pulp out of these two miscreants, kill them for the grief they have caused
your master!”


Henry and Don couldn’t help sniggering. “What a gay name Francis is! He,
he, he! What a fag....HA! HA! HA!” They said, unable to control their laughter.


Fuming, the gargantuan, homicidal rat turned upon them. “You two are
ruge, ruge loike heck! I’m going to hang you by your guts!”


Francis, the not so friendly, gargantuan rat, spun around and swung his
tree-trunk of a tail. It hissed through the air and was aimed at head level. Henry was
swift and ducked in the nick of time, Don wasn’t so lucky. The thick pink tail,
crashed down upon the side of Don’s head, the thud echoed throughout the cottage.
The force of the impact flung unfortunate Don through the thick oak wall. Stars
exploded all around Don’s vision and blood poured through numerous cuts along
his head. He managed to say, “mommy?” then he passed out.


Shocked and frightened, a cold sweat dampened his body. Taking advantage
of the rat’s occupied moment of victory dancing, he dove for the fire-place poker.
Before the accursed creature knew what was going on, Henry was on top of the
table. With all the strength he could muster, Henry unleashed a fierce, skull splitting
smack to the Francis’s grey, furry head.


Afraid that he might get hurt in the heat of the fight, Abyss went to a safe
distance.


A pine green blood gushed out like a geyser from the rat’s fresh wound. The
monstrous creature let out a head splitting screech and held it’s over sized paws to
it’s head. The rat fell to the ground and Henry began kicking it in the head doing his
own little victory dance, although his victory was short lived. Francis flicked his tail
and sent him sprawling to the floor. The rat wrapped his tail around
his neck. Henry struggled to get free but the rat kept on tightening it’s tail noose.
About to faint, he suddenly remembered the poker in his hand and stabbed the beast
through the shoulder. The rat howled in pain and tugged the poker free. Francis
lunged and tackled poor Henry to the floor.


The creature grabbed Henry’s collar and began thumping his head on the
ground. Henry was rendered senseless and Francis dunked his head into a bucket of
grimy water, attempting to drown him.


He had a number of potential weapons to use to free himself. He had a brick,
The poker and a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. What did he use you might ask, why
he used the pitcher of course! It should shatter nicely in the rats eyes he, he, he.




Henry smacked the rat on the right side of it’s face and it shattered into little
bits and pieces of glass. the rat squealed with pain and staggered back. Henry
grabbed for the poker and whacked the rat twice and delivered a fierce right hook.


Francis tumbled to the ground and swung it’s tail upwards and performed the
nut cracker on Henry. The gigantic tail caught him squarely in the crotch and he
yelped in pain.


Henry dropped his poker and fell to the floor clutching his you know what.
He gritted his teeth and rolled in agony as the evil demon wrapped his tail around
Henry’s poker and grabbed a frying pan. Henry finally managed to stand up and
discovered Francis had his poker.


The poker swung dangerously from the rat’s tail and the trying pan looked
deadly in it’s paw. Henry wondered how the rat ever got the upper hand in the fight
but didn’t have much time to think. With a swift flick of it’s tail, the rat struck like a
scorpion with it’s poker tail and it lashed out with the frying pan. The poker missed
but the pan was dead accurate. Henry swayed to the left, dodging the tail
but was laid flat by the pan.


It had struck him directly in the nose. He hopped around the room in agony,
clutching it, shouting muffled profanities. “Stupid son of a mother, ooooooooo!” He
screamed.


After he was done screaming, he turned to face the rat once more only to be
intimidated. Francis looked more dangerous than ever, the deadly poker swinging
from it’s tail, brandishing a blood stained frying pan. Instead of fighting, Henry
shook his head and ran down the hall screaming, “screwwwww thisssss!” Startled,
the rat pursued him down the hall. He dove into the workshop and closed and
latched the heavy iron door of the room.


The creature launched himself head long into the door making the hinges
rattle. Henry rushed to search for a good weapon for he knew he only had a precious
few moments before the door gave way. He examined his work shop tools seeing
which would be good for bashing the rodents brains in. Then he suddenly
remembered the Demon-B-Gone. He slapped his fore head and pulled the spray can
from his pocket.


He stood ready at the shaking door with the spray. He screamed at the door.
“Prepare to die su....” The door broke free from the hinges and it flung poor Henry
over the inferno. Francis charged into the room and with out thinking, Henry
pressed the top. Abyss forgot to mention it was flammable.


A brilliant, white light engulfed the cottage, the spray became a blow torch.
The fire ball that issued from the can was of many colors and caught the rats greasy
fur on fire. The thing squealed in horror and pain as it ran around, bumping into
things. Abyss the insane wizard kicked himself for selling them that spray. Henry
landed upon the ground with a hard thud and recovered the poker the rat had
dropped. The rat ran straight through the wall with pieces of unholy flesh falling out
of him. The rat slowed and fell before the stream and keeled over and died.






With weary, blood-shot eyes, the bobbit that lived next door, known as
Bimbo Gaggins awoke from his mid-afternoon nap. He mumbled, “Oh those
blacksmiths! Those renegade teenage punks! They have chosen the perfect time to
throw a blasted party, well I’ll show ‘em!” He hopped down from his tiny bed and
began writing a letter of complaint to the Y.P.D.(Yeti Police Department). He put
his signature on it and stuffed it inside a bottle. He went to his tree-house window
and tossed the bottle into the stream. “Let’s see how they react when a Yeti shows
up at their house he, he, he!” He thought to himself.



Don finally awoke and joined Henry, while Abyss wept over the fallen rat.
“There, there Francis (Sniff!), There’s no more pain where you are now.” While
Abyss was crying, the blacksmiths were laughing, but were silenced by the hand that
came upon their head. The monstrous hand lifted them both in the air by their hair
and the thing turned their heads to face him.


“All right laddies, tell me what went on here?” It was a giant Yeti that asked
the question. It totted a large copper ax and had two more Yetis at his left and right,
each carried a cross bow.


As they told the story, the Yeti chief looked upon the blacksmiths and saw
criminals. Both were completely caked in blood and Henry was shirtless and carried
a bloody poker.


When Henry finished the tale, the Yetis laughed aloud. “Ho, ho, ho, he, he,
ha, ha, ha, ha, harhahahar! That’s the tallest tall tale I’ve heard! Everyone knows
the magic folk are the nicest around, and demons? Ha!”


“But it’s all true!” Henry and Don argued.


The Yetis laughed some more and the chief replied, “Oh yes, we’re gonna
enjoy having you at our prison. I think I’ll bunk you two up with the three gay
rapists, yes, that’ll do nicely. Beatings are every other week, you’ll take icy cold
baths and eat nothing but stale bread and old germ infested water. You’re comin’
with us!”


The two very unfortunate blacksmiths were carried off kicking and screaming
and were sentenced with fifty years in prison. All the while, Abyss was preparing
another broom inside the house, his work was done. He mounted his broom and
sailed off into the cloudless sky.










Later that day, over one of the lakes of Scotland, a fisherman spotted a man
flying by on a broom. Abyss smiled and said to himself, “Ha, ha, ha! I certainly
showed those teenage pun....” A splash of murky water flew into his eyes and a large
sea serpent ate him whole.


So that’s how the legend of the Lock-Ness monster came to be, and why
magical folk never converse with non-magical people.


And they all lived unhappily ever after, the end.






Related Items

Comments

The following comments are for "The Wizard, The Rat, and The Blacksmiths"
by Titus Tolshem

Let me have it!
I thought this story to be very funny and wanted to learn the comments of the people who read it. So please tell me what you think, and don't let back! Let me know exactly what you thought. Thank you.

( Posted by: Titus Tolshem [Member] On: July 2, 2003 )

ups and downs
I have to say, I struggled to read through to the end of this, but I persevered.

It is a very brave attempt. Satire and spoof are not easy to pull off successfully (I've certainly never managed it), but I'm afraid to say I don't think this one has worked.

It has it's moments though, I'll certainly give it that, particularly in the first half.

The first problem with it that I want to point out is the overuse of parentheses (brackets) (you know, those round things (that contain extra bits of a sentence)). They're all perfectly well used, though a few could have been positioned better. The problem is simply with the quantity; all there at the begining of the story. It makes the writing go off at so many tangents that it becomes a little hard to follow.

Secondly, laughter. "ha ha ha" is a very dangerous thing to write in a comedy. It's like having canned-laugter in a TV sit-com: you're telling the audience when to laugh, and it can easily spoil the comic moment. Much better to simply write 'they laughed' than '"ha ha ha," they said'. Embellish it even; it's quite possible to write an entire paragraph about someone laughing without ever using speech mark.

My thoughts on the actual story: It was actually not bad, in the first half at least. The point at which I switched off was the fight with the rat (though I think I was well on the way to switching off before I actually got there).

The slapstick element that you've tried to write in this part of the story is probably the hardest thing to write well. For slapstick to work, it needs to be quick and perfectly timed. This is relatively easy on TV, or in the imagination, but when written down it can lose it's edge, which I think is what's happened here.

So with all that critisism under my belt, I hope you're not too offended, because I would love to see an updated version of this story. It has a suprising amount of potential. You clearly have a very good imagination, and a sharp eye for the humourous situation; it's really the writing that needs tidying up more than the story itself.

For what it's worth, my score is 4/10, but don't let that get you down.

( Posted by: Spudley [Member] On: July 3, 2003 )

thanks!
Thank you very, very, very, much! I totally agree with every word you just said though keep in mind(No one except for ArturHawking knows this) but this was the first true short-story I ever wrote. To tell the truth I was only twelve when I wrote it so expected this story to not get the best of comments. Once again I thank you, you truly are saint for giving me a comment.

( Posted by: Titus Tolshem [Member] On: July 5, 2003 )





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