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Tales From Beyond The Enchanted Prong Hills

The Baron Of Dried Fruits

Mike

Page 8



  

But for each pair of trousers that was shot, sliced, stabbed or shredded, more would arrive, marching inexorably onwards upon their floppy canvas legs, brutishly kicking and trampling anything that obstructed their passage. Most vicious of all were the mole-skin breeches which would leap at their victims wrapping both legs tightly around their necks and strangling them. It was sheer pantamonium.*
"Have at ye, you bastards!" yelled Baron Shagnasty drawing his sword.
He charged into the fray and instantly slew two pairs of jodhpurs, three pairs of pyjama bottoms and a rather fetching pair of purple Spandex leggings. A pack of lederhosen realised the potential danger and were instantly upon him. Within seconds they had pummelled the baron to the ground.
A small group of soldiers recognised the prince.
"Prince Vitamin C," said one of them, "You must save us. We are outnumbered. We cannot fend off their attack."
"Fear not," said the prince confidently, "Does anybody here have a grapefruit?"
One of the soldiers rummaged about in his armour and retrieved a Florida Pink grapefruit which he passed to the prince.
"Excellent!" said the prince admiring the fruit, "And does anybody have a Conference Pear?"
Another soldier handed him a Conference Pear.
Heh, heh, Prince Vitamin C chuckled to himself, this time the princess will be mine. I shall save the kingdom, become a hero and marry her by sunset. He momentarily allowed a smug smile to settle on his face.
"And finally, I need a Cox's Orange Pippin."
"Here, sir," said yet another soldier, "I have a . . . what the fuck's that?!"
Everybody turned to see what the soldier had spotted.
Whirling in from the distance came a blurred vision of an object which seemed to be completely berserk. Any trousers which came within its vicinity were slashed straight to the ground. Closer it came until it was possible to discern a sword and a shield which the slayer was wielding at a phenomenal rate. Through the mass of trousers it charged clearing out large areas in great swathes. Only when there were just a few trousers left did it slow down enough to make out its form.
The arms with which it held the sword and shield were yellow and white and of a highly flexible nature. Its head and body were a single unit, creamy white, bent forward, and cylindrical with a slight tapering towards the head end. Its lower half was a single stem clad in a thick, leathery, yellow coating with occasional speckles of black. One could be forgiven for likening it to a giant half-peeled banana.
For such it was.
"Willoughby!" exclaimed Prince Vitamin C.
"Who's Willoughby?" said one of the soldiers, curiously.
"The Rampant Banana Of High Tea!" said the prince, "Legend has it that in times of great crisis Willoughby will come down from the plains and sort it all out. My family has honoured his memory for generations, but I never thought I would ever actually get to see him myself."
"Bloody good job we did really," said the soldier.
"Yes," said the prince, "Once more, fruit has triumphed over evil."
Willoughby polished off the rest of the trousers and posed triumphantly at the castle gates of King Farnsborough.

*Please hit me if I do this again.

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The Baron Of Dried Fruits
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