In a Pickle

“The most common fix at the end of a Fantasy story

is for the characters to pull a wand out of a Unicorn’s butt,

to save them from the trouble they are in.” - Anon.

IN A PICKLE

By

Deenur

(C)2023

Vilastic the Kosher grew tired of sitting in his small, squalid, unpleasant, simply-constructed hovel and wondered if he should venture out to see if the Legends were true. For it was rumored that somewhere out there, in the Forest of Serendipity, dwelled a unicorn, Tusky the Irascible, that could produce a wand to grant seekers their hearts desire. Vilastic vacillated back and forth, to and fro, on and on until the anguish grew unbearable. There was only one who could answer query- his small, green, briney, globular friend, Caper.

           Caper, was of course, all too enthusiastic about the possibility of an adventure. “Go,” he said.

           “But Caper,” Vilastic protested, “what if it’s not true? What if I spend all my time and energy to find out the Legends are false?”

           “Go anyway. Any ridiculously concocted escapade is better than just sitting around EverFresh the rest of your days, wondering what might have been.”

           “I don’t think I have the will to go alone,” said Vilastic. “I don’t think I could see it through.” Vilastic’s shoulders slumped at the realization.

           “So then take me along,” suggested Caper. “I’m up for it.”

           Vilastic’s head snapped upward. “You? I can’t ask you to go. It’s too much!”

           “You have to take me Vilastic, or risk being stuck in a soliloquy.”

           Vilastic pondered and pondered, then finally said, “You’re right of course. So do we venture out on a ridiculously concocted escapade, or a Quest?”

           Let’s make it a Quest. I’m not in favor of always having to say ridiculously concocted escapade. But, you do know the rules are different for a Quest.”

           “They are?”

           “Well yeah,” explained Caper. “Like speaking. You have to speak different when you’re on a Quest.”

           “I don’t get it,” said Vilastic.

           “Don’t worry pal, I got it.”

           Vilastic and Caper weren’t 40 paces outside of EverFresh when something came up to them on the path- a medium-sized pepper who seemed rather mild in temperament.

           “Ho there, fair pepper,” called Caper, “from whence comest thou?”

           The pepper stopped and looked at them. “Anaheim.”

           Caper continued. “And what callest thou thyself?”

           “My mother called me Chiles Heel.”

           “And for what purpose dost thou travel?”

           “To lend myself to honorable seekers of truth.”

           “Come then,” Caper invited, “and join our seeking.”

           “Okay.”

           “See?” said Caper to Vilastic, “that’s how you handle a Quest.”

           Vilastic and Caper and Chiles Heel weren’t 40 paces outside of their original 40 paces outside of EverFresh when something came up to them on the path- thick and bushy with curly, strong leaves.

           “Ho there, fair endive,” called Caper, “from whence comest thou?”

           The endive stopped and looked at them. “Northern Europe by way of Egypt.”

           Caper continued. “And what callest thou thyself?”

           “My mother called me Frisee.”

           “And for what purpose dost thou travel?”

           “To lend myself to honorable seekers of truth.”

           “Come then,” Caper invited, “and join our seeking.”

           “Okay.”

           “Get it?” said Caper to Vilastic.

           Vilastic and Caper and Chiles Heel and Frisee weren’t 40 paces outside of their 40 paces outside the original 40 paces outside of EverFresh when something came up to them on the path- pink and spiky.

           “Let me try,” said Vilastic.

           “Well…” said Caper.

           Vilastic stared at him.

           “OK, but be careful. It can be tricky.”

           “Ho there, fair endive,” called Vilastic.

           “It’s a thistle, not an endive. I told you this was tricky.”

           “Sorry,” said Vilastic. “Ho there, fair thistle. From whence comest thou?”

           “Mediterranea.”

Vilastic continued. “And what callest thou thyself?”

           “My mother called me Cardoon.”

           “And for what purpose dost thou travel?”

           “To lend myself to honorable seekers of truth.”

           “Come then,” Vilastic invited, “and join our seeking.”

           “Okay.”

“Hey,” said Vilastic, “that’s easy!”

They traveled the remainder of the day, settling down for the evening at a welcoming, wayside Inn. The Inn Keeper was friendly enough, but Cardoon noticed other patrons of the Inn stealing glances at their group, and whispering. The Inn Keeper delivered refreshments to the table, when Cardoon spoke up. “It seems like we aren’t welcome here.”

“Nonsense friends,” replied the Keeper as he set down the tankards. “All are welcome at Miracle Grove!”

“That begs a question,” Caper said. “Why is this village known as Miracle Grove? Did a miracle happen here?”

The Inn Keeper leaned in. “We don’t discuss things such as that here, friend. It could distress some of the locals. Like that individual over there called Nopal. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s friendly enough.” The Inn Keeper’s eyes widened. “Unless you ask about the village name.”

Chiles Heel stood with intent. “He looks like he speaks a common language. I will go talk to him.”

“No!” The Inn Keeper yelled in a whisper. “You mustn’t!”

“Hey, amigo. Calm down. It will be all bueno.” Chiles heel approached the table where Nopal sat alone, having refreshment, and had no sooner than two sentences out of Chiles’ mouth when Nopal drew an enormous sword from the underside of the table,

“Run away!” yelled Caper as the travelers scrambled over themselves, out the front door.

They gathered 20 paces from the Inn with Vilastic looking around, assessing the damage. “Where’s Chiles Heel?” he asked.

“Probably cleaved in two,” Frisee offered.

The entrance of the Inn slammed open. “Here I am,” said Chiles Heel weakly. “Close close shave there.”

Vilastic could see that his compatriot suffered a crop at the top of his head. “Why did you do that?”

Chiles Heel glanced upward. “I though I could make a friend.”

Caper cut in. “Friend? Silly knave. Knowest thou not that we are your friends?”

“Yes,” said Chiles Heel, “that’s true.”

“Hey,” whispered Vilastic to Caper, “that Quest talk stuff works pretty well.”

Caper winked in response.

Chiles Heel took some time to rest, then the adventurers decided it was time to move on. They had traveled half a day, when the path they traveled opened up into a large meadow. Chiles Heel strained for a better view. “It seems there is a spring across the way there, to the left.”

“Then to the left we shall venture!” Vilastic announced. He lowered his voice and spoke to Caper. “How was that?”

“Quite good,” Caper answered.

They had only traveled 20 paces into the meadow when a rotund, purple Nightshade blocked their path. “I am Aubergine,” he announced. “Who approacheth the Meadow of Gloom, must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see!”

Caper put a hand to the side of his mouth. “Now that’s real Quest talk.”

Vilastic nodded.

Chiles Heel moved forward, but Cardoon blocked him. “You are injured my friend. Let me.”

Chiles Heel looked at him. “OK.”

Cardoon moved into Aubergine’s full view. “I am Cardoon. Ask me the questions. I am not afraid.”

“Silence!” bellowed Aubergine, raising his hands. “You may not identify yourself until question one has been asked! You have disrupted the entire process! You forfeit!” Cardoon burst into flame, turning quickly to ash. Aubergine lowered his arms. “The rest of you may go.”

They moved off quickly stealing glances at the pile of ash that was their friend. “Stuff like that always seems to happen when I am around,” said Chiles Heel.

They reached the far side of the meadow, and after refreshing themselves at the spring, traveled on. Hours later, a river blocked the way, but it looked passable by a log that created a makeshift bridge. Chiles Heel headed to the log, but Frisee stopped him. “You are injured my friend,” said Frisee. “Let me.”

“OK” answered Chiles Heel.

No sooner had Frisee approached the log, when an enormous menace blocked his path. “I am Dio Scorea, master of the bridge.” He held a staff across his midsection.

“That guy’s huge!” whispered Vilastic. “What is he? 5? 6 cubits?”

“I don’t think we measure in cubits in a Quest. I think it’s called an ell. Unless you are talking about an English ell, which was two Viking ells, which was also a stika.”

“Uh, thanks?” said Vilastic.

“No problem,” answered Caper.

“Who will fight me?” bellowed Dio Scorea.

“I will,” said Frisee. He moved off in the direction of the nearby meadow, searching the ground for an appropriate stick. Finding one, he returned to the bridge. “Remember,” whispered Caper. “Quest language.”

Frisee addressed his opponent. “Art thou lord of this bridge?”

Dio Scorea answered. “I yam.”

“Then have at thee!” Frisee announced, rushing his larger foe.

Vilastic observed it was very difficult to fight standing on such a narrow bridge. The foes kept swaying backwards and forwards trying to keep their balance. But they managed to offer each other some tremendous blows. Frisee struck first, giving the stranger such a bang that his bones seemed to ring. Dio Scorea fought back, swinging left to right, instead of right to left.

“He’s left handed!” shouted Chiles Heel.

The shout disoriented Frisee. “Huh? What?”

Dio Scorea used the moment to upset Frisee’s balance and knock him into the ravine, 30 stikas below.

“Oops,” said Chiles Heel.

Dio Scorea wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Well, that’s enough dispatching for today. The remainder of you may pass.” He walked off into the opposite direction.

“This is all my fault,” commented Chilies Heel.

Vilastic looked at Caper and nodded knowingly. Caper returned the nod.

Vilastic took a deep breath. “Nonsense!” he declared, putting on his best, booming, Hero, reassurance voice. “Simply because your mother declared you to be Chilies Heel does not mean trouble will follow you wherever you go. Shake it off. You can be more than your given name- if you wish to.”

Chilies Heel slumped over. “I don’t know, but thanks.”

Night was beginning to settle in when they reached a clearing with a mud hut at one side. “Now how dangerous do you suppose they are,” asked Vilastic, pointing the direction of the hut.

“As dangerous as you want to make it,” said a voice behind them.

They turned to see a wrinkled individual, small in stature, but apparently unafraid. “I am Carolina the Reaper,” she said. “And you are trespassing.”

“We mean no harm-” said Caper, who was immediately interrupted by Chiles Heel.

  “Trespassing? What is trespassing? You can yell at us and threaten us, and tell us what to do because you got here a week before we did?”

Vilastic whispered out the side of his mouth. “Chiles, I don’t think we should approach her like that.”

But Chiles Heel ignored the warning. “I’m tired of bullies like you who tell travelers where they can go, what they can do, and who they can do it with.”

“Definitely not Quest language,” said Caper. “This is going to end badly.”

“Silence!” yelled Carolina. “Your impudence will cost you greatly!”

“Why?” asked Chiles Heel. “What are you going to do? Make me iron your wrinkles?”

With that, Carolina opened her mouth, spewing a column of what could only be described as oily fire. It engulfed Chiles Heel, roasting him on the spot, knocking him to his knees. When the inferno subsided, Chiles Heel was not dead, but changed. He looked himself over. His smooth green skin had been replaced with a dark red coloring, almost as if he received a year’s worth of sun-tanning in a moment. “I like it,” he said.

Carolina walked over to him. “I think I’ll call you Pasado,” she said. The two walked off arm in arm.

“What just happened?” Caper asked.

It was only another day’s journey when the duo found the cave of Tusky the Irascible, but nothing could have prepared the adventurers for what happened next. Tusky, it seemed, was overly fond of brownies. And that week he had eaten more that his fair share of them, with the over-abundance of chocolate causing a great deal of damage to his regularity. Yes, Tusky was backed up.

Even worse was the line of adventurers at the mouth of the cave that had also ventured to the area, hoping for that wonderful item that only Tusky could produce.

Tusky lay on his side, like a horse with the worst case of colic, ever. “He’s been like this for two days,” said Milton, Tusky’s attendant. “We sent word to Vegetius, but he is likely weeks removed. He won’t eat. I can barely get him to drink water.”

Vilastic and Caper moved away from the attendant. “Did you bring that bag, the one with the powders?” Caper asked.

“Yeah, but why? They are only nutritional supplements.”

“And one of them is magnesium. Trust me,” said Caper. “You get enough of that in him, and the dam will blow.”

Caper proceeded to whip up a batch of blondies over the open fire- cinnamon flavored brownies with no cocoa. “I added an entire cup of magnesium,” Caper whispered.

The adventurers took the treats to Tusky, who looked at them suspiciously. “They’re blondies,” Vilastic said. “No cocoa.”

The hapless animal sniffed at the offering, his eyes beginning to shine with a bit of light. Tusky took one nibble, them a small bite, then a large bite, before devouring the entire pan in a matter of moments. Caper also helped the animal with several mouthfuls of water.

Caper and Vilastic watched intently. It didn’t take long. Tusky’s eyes instantly widened, and he jumped to his feet, braying loudly. The animal ran around in a circle, crying out as the abdominal cramping reached its apex. Tusky backed up against the wall of the cave and let fly.

The fusillade of wands launched out of the creature’s backend, as if a thousand archers had knocked arrows, and simultaneously released them all at once. Most of the rods smashed against the back wall and fell broken. The crowd outside now seeing what was happening rushed the back of the cave and fought over the few, remaining intact wands.

In the end, 45 people were covered by dirt, pink goo, glitter and bruises. Caper noted that the entire cave now smelled like fruit.

Vilastic had managed to get one intact wand past the mob, showing it to Caper a distance away from the cave. “That’s it?” Caper asked. “How do you know it will even work?”

“I don’t,’ Vilastic explained. “I feel terrible about what we did to that animal back there. I just wanted the Quest so bad, I couldn’t see anything else. The loss of two friends, the selfish way I behaved, how do you end a Quest like that?”

“Well, the traditional way to end a Quest mired by selfishness, after the subsequent epiphany, is to perform an act of kindness,” Caper explained.

At that moment, a band of poor heroes appeared. “Please sir,” the leader explained. “We are on our way to face Carolina the Reaper, and dispatch her for her incendiary attacks on our land. But we have nothing with which to draw straws. Have you a branch or a twig, or some such item by which we might create lots which we will draw?”

Vilastic handed over the troublesome wand. The leader broke it in half, then broke the halves into smaller pieces. “Bless you sir! A perfect solution. You have our thanks!” The group scurried off to face their fates.

Caper and Vilastic stood and watched them go, with Vilastic finally speaking up. “Quests often aren’t worth it are they?”

Caper passed his friend on the path, speaking as he went. “Do you want to go back and find out why Miracle Grove is called Miracle Grove? I do.”

Vilastic fell in behind his round friend, wondering what would be next.