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As he prepared to leave the blacksmith’s shop George really wasn’t conscious of the day at all. The fact that it was Friday was lost on him for the most part.
“Let me know when he’s ready” said Whoopy as he donned his helmet and exited the front door. It’d been a while since he’d put ole’ “Bumper Bait” in the shop for his routine oat change and front end alignment. Constant bouts of jousting had worn the left front somewhat and he pulled in that direction. Wasn’t anything a new set of shoes and different oats couldn’t fix. In fact, a man could go some before he found as good a deal as George had with that horse. Bought him right off of the showroom floor and he was still in warranty. Power train and paint job were as good as new. No sirree, a man would be hard pressed to find another like that in these parts.
As he strode down the street to the wagon stop George mentally relived his day. He’d left the “weekend” crew in charge of “Dragon Suppression” but hadn’t even thought about it being Friday. Just a routine action that didn’t require much thought. Now, in a less hectic moment George had time to reflect. Often ignored aches and pains made themselves obvious in each step as he plodded along. He had been in the service of the crown for some time and the monotony of the constant battle for good was wearing on him. He was feeling old and tired. Even a vacation now and again only allayed these feelings for a short time, and then it was back to the same old grind.
As George made progress to the wagon stop to take the public transportation home the signs of his own mileage were showing themselves. For many years he’d fought for tranquility and day after tired day he’d come out about even at the end of it. Didn’t seem like he ever got ahead. He stopped for a minute and looked at his suit of armor. It was still in good shape but was showing age and use quite a bit. Whoopy relived mentally some of the incidents in which he obtained some of the “battle damage.” Some of them brought a chuckle to him as he trounced through the memories. Yes, the wear and tear of constant struggle, combined with a sloppy maintenance program left it looking the worse for wear. But, after all, it WAS his job!
Whoopy stood alone at the wagon stop, awaiting the “blue line” wagon which ran at precisely 5:30 p.m. (Except when the “Flamer” chose to make an appearance!). A gentle breeze wafted into his helmet and caressed his nose. George checked his sundial; “hmmm”, he said to himself as his gaze shifted from his arm to a nearby book store on the opposite corner. “Good place to kill a few minutes” he muttered to himself as he ambled across the street and in the front door, his haggard uniform rattling with his every footfall.
The door to the kitchen opened with a casual but indelicate manner and George entered the room, immediately noting the smell of dinner in the making. His keen nostrils were ever vigilant to the smell of food being prepared. Andessa stood next to the kitchen island, chopping vegetables for stew and offered a smile and warm face to George as he shed his outer wardrobe. But there was something different about him this evening, something tired, yet, purposeful. Andessa smiled again and bent somewhat to extend a cheek and George planted a heavy smooch against it as he strode by. Under his arm was a paper bag with the recognizable livery of the neighborhood bookseller on the front flap. Whoopy clutched it tightly under his arm as he made his way to the Great room and began climbing the stairs to the hallway leading to the master bedroom. Andessa wore a puzzled look on her face as she observed her faithful husband. Normally he would stop and chat a minute before going upstairs. Sometimes he would even stop long enough to help in the kitchen but not tonight. Tonight he retreated to his room and promptly disappeared from family life. He was slow to rouse for dinner and Andessa had to send the children to “drag” Whoopy to the dinner table, all the while his nose buried in the book he had purchased. It’s yellow and black cover gave no hint as to the apparently interesting contents within. Whoopy’s eyebrows would rise and fall as he read intently, stopping only to shovel food down his throat. Andessa and the children eyed George cautiously as he perused the words and one could only wonder if there was a picture or something that caused his occasional giggles.
Andessa began to worry about George. He had never taken so to the written word in any form, let alone a book. Late into the night he studied, snorting and mumbling under his breath.
The dawn brought forth a sight which hadn’t been seen for some time. Sir Whoopsalot was out in the courtyard with some rags, metal polish, a large mallet, (hammer), and the anvil. Whoopy laughed, whistled and had spring in his step as he pounded the metal back into something resembling its original shape. Lunchtime came and found George still hard at it by the anvil. His “metal tuxedo” was becoming something to behold. It shone brightly in the early afternoon sunlight. Andessa and the children could only watch and wonder at the sight they beheld. What was George up to? Did the King promote him maybe? Did he have a GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!! Andessa’s face took on a serious look at that thought!
All that day and into the night Whoopy hammered and read. He polished and recited, oblivious to people and happenings around him. He had a vigor that was characteristic of a much younger person. One full of ideals and dreams. Downright exasperating.
Sunday arrived and saw Whoopy putting the finishing touches on his suit and practicing some thrust and parry maneuvers with his sword. The reflected sunshine almost blinded the children as he moved about in the courtyard.
That night, as George and Andessa lay in bed, readying themselves for the coming night’s slumber George suddenly flung the book to the floor beside the bed and quickly rolled over to face a stunned Andessa, his big grin stretching from ear to ear. She hadn’t seen THAT gleam in his eye in quite a while. She giggled and rolled over to face George. Sleep came late but neither one cared. When sleep did come it was taken soundly.
The next morning saw Sir Whoopsalot up early and shaven even before the morning traffic reports. Quickly he donned his armor and, with a long, meaningful hug of his lovely Andessa, her cheeks still a’ flush from the night before, strode out of the bedroom door and down the long hallway, down the grand staircase and out of the massive Great Room doors. Andessa watched proudly as her “Knight in shining armor” strode confidently across the inner courtyard and across the drawbridge to the wagon stop. His armor had never gleamed so brightly. It seemed as if a new man had been born. A man with a purpose!
That evening found Andessa once again in the kitchen, standing watch over a kettle of simmering stew. It was Whoopy’s favorite; Meadow Muffin Stew! Andessa lovingly stirred the broth and occasionally tasted it, with accompanying applications of seasonings here and there. The children sat at the table looking over their homework and ruminating about book reports that were due the next day. Lady BigSway had come over with the newest beauty products catalog and she and Andessa oohed and ahhed over all the new products. George had taken the late wagon to pick up the family horse from the smithy and was due in at any minute. Fondly remembering the night before Andessa eagerly awaited his arrival with a schmirk across her youthful face.
It was nearly six o’clock when Andessa heard the unmistakable sounds of her husband crossing the drawbridge aboard his proud steed. The hoof beats made a melodic sound as they trotted across the wooden beams of the drawbridge. Any minute now her husband would come bouncing in the door, happy and wearing a face full of fulfillment.
As Andessa pulled the catalog closer to look at some new lipstick the kitchen door suddenly swung open and banged against the back wall. The unmistakable odor of burnt cotton and scorched metal permeated the room. Whoopy entered and didn’t say a word. His once shiny armor bore little resemblance to its earlier sheen as it was scorched and heavily dented. The faceplate dangled to and fro as it hung from only one rivet in the helmet. As George gruffly sat down and began to remove his armored shoes he was observing no manner of care as he slammed things down and tossed others aside in an unorganized way. The children sat at the table, pencils and crayons in hand with their mouths agape at the sight of such despair. As Whoopy struggled angrily with the last of his uniform, the very undergarments smoked, leaving a cloud around him. He stood up, and with nary a word, stomped past Andessa and her guest without acknowledgement of any kind. He slowed down on his way to the master bedroom only long enough to chuck something into the trashcan in the kitchen corner.
Andessa waved her hand in a vain attempt to sway the smoke from her face. She watched as George made his way through the Great Room and up the staircase. She could hear him long after he was out of sight, stomping down the hallway and slamming doors as he went. Lady BigSway cast her gaze after George, and then back to the shocked Andessa. The children were in a frozen state. No one could understand what had happened. This was surely not the man who had left Castle MegaGrande that morning. Not THAT man!
Andessa glanced back at Lady BigSway and then everyone looked toward the trashcan and it’s recently acquired contents. Slowly she arose and walked over to the canister, pausing to gaze down into its bowels. At the bottom lay the remnants of a book. Instantly she recognized the book as the one Sir Whoopsalot had been so absorbed in the previous few days. It didn’t look like the same book though, its edges frayed and burnt. Mangled, it was, and looking like some of the children’s books after a few years in the nursery.
Andessa again waved her hand to clear fumes and smoke and reached in to retrieve the smoldering book. It was burnt, torn, and several pages were ripped with some missing altogether. The cover was largely intact however, its title and subtitle plainly visible through the scorch marks:
"DRAGON SLAYING FOR DUMMIES"
Andessa proferred the book to Lady BigSway so as to afford her a better view of the cover. Heavy sighs and moans followed and both women cast their gaze toward the ceiling. Upstairs, the sounds of one VERY despondent husband could be heard moving about, stomping his feet and talking out loud to himself.
There wouldn’t be much sleep in THIS castle tonight, and no one would be happy about it.
The Dragon was doing some recovering of his own. He sat in his cave, in front of his computer sipping a large glass of “Dragonade” and tending to a few bruises. In between complaining about HIS mileage, he was searching the internet for a copy of another book;
“HOW TO DEAL WITH DIFFICULT PEOPLE”!
(It was out of print.)
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