The Stallion's Tale

The Stallion’s Tale

“Oh Death,” laughed Goldie, “what a wonderful story!”
“Yeah, yeah…it ended well,” said the stallion. “Now it’s my turn!”
“Very well,” sighed Goldie.
“This one is called “The Death-Dealing Goblin of Derbyshire!”
“Lovely, Hoss…”

Once upon a time (or it may have been just yesterday) there lived a humble tinker named Sid. Sid was only a tinker but he really wanted to be a magician, the greatest magician that the world had ever seen.
He knew that the warlock who lived on the edge of the Dark wood had super powers so he decided to offer himself as an apprentice to him so he could learn magic! The warlock (whose name was Virus the Venomous) needed help so he took Sid on and assigned him the job of cutting wood and drawing water. He told him that he would teach him one magic trick a day, if he worked well.
Sid hated working like a slave but it would be worth it if he could be like the warlock. And each day, true to his promise, Virus the Venomous taught him a magic trick: how to disappear, how to fly like a starling, how to read minds, and how to raise the almost dead.
One day, a delegation of villagers came to Virus’ castle.
“Drat!” said the warlock, “They’ve come to drive me out again. This always happens when the crops fail or the village well goes dry!”
But Virus was wrong this time, the villagers came to Virus to ask him to help them with a problem that they had. Apparently, they were under siege by a particularly wretched Goblin, the size of a small house with glistening fangs, razor sharp claws, and a nasty disposition. He slaughtered the cows, ate the goats and terrified the sheep. They had tried to drive him of with pitchforks, burning torches and bull mastiffs but the Goblin had only laughed cruelly and dispatched the dogs with his bandy arms, tearing off their heads and using them as footballs, kicking them back into the village!
“Disgusting!” said Death.
“Now, now, dear, let him tell his horrible story!” said Goldie.
“Where was I?” said Hoss. “Oh yes, the dogs’ heads…”
The villagers wept and begged the warlock to help them, reasoning that it took evil-doer to deal with evil.
“I’ll help you if you can meet my price,” said Virus.
“What’s your price?” asked the village headman.
“I’m not going to tell you yet,” he smiled evilly, “After the Goblin is dead or gone, I will tell you my price.”
“I don’t think we have a choice, do we?” asked the headman.
“No!” laughed the warlock. “Do you accept my terms? If so, you must sign a contract with your blood!”
The headman did so and the warlock pointed to his apprentice. “Sid, here, will get rid of the Goblin for you.”
“He will?” gulped the headman.
“I will?” gulped Sid.
“He will!” said the warlock and that was that.
Poor Sid grasped his magic shoes, his magic spectacles and his magic game board and went to the village in search of the Death-Dealing Goblin of Derbyshire! He hoped when he got there that the Goblin would have gotten bored and left but no such luck.
He came upon the goblin picking his teeth (the goblin’s) and belching most foully. He had just eaten twelve cows and was feeling relaxed and sleepy.
“Ho, foul Goblin!” said Sid.
“Yeah, so?” responded the Goblin.
“Well, the villagers were wondering about the odds of you buggering off any time soon?”
“Such language!” protested Death.
“Just let him tell his story his way, dear,” urged Goldie.
“Thank you Goldie…anyway…”
The Goblin made a rude gesture at the apprentice to let him know that he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
“If you stay, I’ll make your life miserable,” warned the apprentice.
“You try me, and see what happen,” said the smug goblin.
Sid put on his magic specs and concentrated. Soon a blazing fireball leaped from the glasses and hurtled at the goblin. The goblin simply opened his massive jaws and swallowed the fireball!
“That’s pretty good,” admitted the apprentice respectfully.
“Fireballs good for tummy,” said the goblin patting his massive gut.
Sid took off his magic specs and put on his magic shoes.
“Feet, don’t fail me now!” he cried and he started to run around the goblin at supersonic speed. As he ran around the goblin, he pulled the air after him so that a tornado swallowed up the goblin, throwing him up in the air and dropping him into the middle of the river, Nymble.
The goblin came tramping back into the village where he bowed to the apprentice, “That good trick! You not half bad at magic.”
“Thank you,” said Sid politely. “Are you going to go now?”
“Me think not. Me toying with eating you instead!” The Goblin rushed at Sid and gripped him in his claws. Sid barely had time to cry out a slippery spell which made him so slick that he slipped right out the goblin’s claws with only minor scraping. He yelped with pain and ran at supersonic speed around the beastly goblin again, causing another tornado to dump it into the river again.
“Me starting to lose patience with this!” cried the goblin who rushed at Sid with mayhem in his bloodshot eyes. Sid realized that he could dump the goblin in the drink all day without dampening the creature’s bloodlust, so he turned to his magic game board.
“Knight to wizard’s pawn!” he yelled.
Immediately a huge, armour-plated warrior on a black stallion…
“It’s self indulgent to put yourself into the story!” chided Death.
“It’s rude to interrupt the story,” said Hoss (the hypocrite).
“Now, now…” tutted Goldie.
Anyway, the knight advanced on the goblin, lifted his sword and aimed a deadly blow just south of its hideous head. If it were not for the iron collar that the goblin wore, there surely would have been one less goblin in Derbyshire.
Howling furiously, the goblin adjusted his head, cracked his neck, flexed his shoulders and hurtled himself at the amazed knight.
“I say, old feller, can’t we discuss this?” asked the knight.
“Me doubt it!” cried the angry creature, eating both horse and rider in two large and messy gulps.
“Armor give me tummy-ache!” said the goblin, spitting it out and none too daintily either.
“Oh, oh…” said Sid, “Bishop to King’s knight!”
Immediately, a tall elderly man with a large metal cross advanced to Sid’s side.
“Look, I don’t know why you called me. I am a pacifist, you know!” said the bishop.
“Sorry, I panicked!”
“You should call the Queen, she has the most flexibility…”
“Yeah, good idea. Right! Queen to Bishop’s pawn!”
Out came the Queen, looking angry.
“I was just about to have my nails done! Do you know how long I had to wait to get an appointment at the day spa?” she said, wagging her finger in Sid’s face.
“Me waiting!” said the goblin.
“Sorry…” said Sid, “I’m working on it.”
“Call the King! He’s just in his counting house playing with his jewels!” said the Queen.
Sid summoned the King who as it happened was not in the mood for fighting. In exasperation, Sid dropped the game board in his bag of tricks and all of the game pieces (except for the remains of the Knight) disappeared.
“Back to me and you!” said the goblin.
“Well, it’s hardly a fair fight,” said Sid, “I mean, you hammered my knight, so what chance do I have?”
“That not the fighting spirit,” complained the goblin. “Kids today have to have life handed to them on silver platter.”
“Yeah, yeah…you’ve never had to draw water and chop wood for a warlock just so he can send you out against a fierce goblin. My life is plenty hard.”
“Me sorry…me not realize. This open up new train of thought for Goblin. Listen, you like killing people and eating animals?”
“Yeah, I guess so…”
“Maybe you want to be Goblin’s ‘prentice?”
“Uh…don’t I have to be a goblin too?”
“What? You think there a rulebook for goblins? That ludicrous!”
So Sid and the goblin went off arm in bandy arm and soon there were two death-dealing goblins in Derbyshire!

Goldie’s Story

“That has got to be the most amoral story I have ever had the displeasure to hear!” frowned Death.
“At least it wasn’t boring!” said Hoss.
“But Hoss, where is the moral of the story?” asked Goldie.
“The what?”
“You know, the life lesson? What we are supposed to learn from the story?”
“Learn from a story? Are you kidding me? Stories are supposed to be entertaining. The minute you paste a moral on, the story withers up and dies.”
“Hmm,” said Death and Goldie together, with pursed lips.(Do horses have lips?)
“Look Goldie, if you want a story with a moral maybe you should tell one!” said Hoss.
“Oh my, I don’t know any stories…”
“Oh come on, Goldie,” said Death, “You know lots of stories!”
“Hmmm, how about ‘Winning True Love’?”
“That doesn’t sound very promising…” moaned Hoss, fearing a serious plot-line.