What, Abadone?

Writing Prompt: You are a commoner, making your living as a farmer. One day you find a wounded person on your doorstep. You do the decent thing by giving them food and tending their injuries. Now you just have to explain to your spouse why the Evil Overlord is sitting in your kitchen when they get home.

“Henrietta, I can explain!” Gerald had been caught in the act, foiled by his wife once again. He had just that very moment been trying to squeeze the Devious Overlord Abadone underneath the kitchen sink to hide him.

If Gerald had been a smarter man he’d have known (and it is quite common knowledge) that no Devious Overlord, regardless of their size, would ever fit under a kitchen sink.

Why? Well, perhaps it isn’t all that common knowledge after all, but it is quite simple.

Devious Overlord’s, by a cruel twist of fate (and a pinch of somewhat stereotypical writing), are forced to live in dark, dingy, desolate places. By a further, crueler twist of fate they are forbidden from having serving men or maids to clean their homes. And by yet this final, cruelest twist of fate they are banished from the Lands Under Sink under such logic as the fact that any creature capable of living in a dark, dingy, desolate place without the sense to employ a well-to-do serving man or maid can only by the Undying Germ (reincarnate) in disguise.

The Undying Germ (reincarnate) is the living embodiment of the one percent. That vile one percent that no bleach nor hand wash can ever hope to slay. It is every sentient cleaning product’s firm belief that the Undying Germ (reincarnate) must be kept from ever entering into the Lands Under Sink, and so these sanitary products make it their business to keep any who are alleged to be the Undying Germ (reincarnate) well and truly out. This includes Calculators, Sunflowers (but only those with too many roots), Yellow Carrots, Paintings by Monet and, of course, Devious Overlords.

Anyway…

“Henrietta, I can explain!”

“It better be a bloody good explanation, Gerald.” Henrietta grabbed the broom propped up against the cottage’s back door, “I’ve had about enough of uninvited guests! First it was that madman wizard, with his bloody fireworks and fellowship of damn Dwarves, not to mention he wouldn’t stop raving about rings! Then it was that damned space pirate with the talking plant… granted he was a handsome sapce pirate… but that damn raccoon made a right mess of the pantry, and it tried to steal your Uncle Albert’s bionic hip!” Henrietta cursed, chewing on her lip, “Now this? The Devious Overlord, Abadone, if I’m right?”

“Please, call me Badone. I prefer just Badone.” the Devious Overlord… ahem… just Badone waved Gerald away, climbing out from under the sink (much to the relief of the fiercely tiring sanitary products that dwelt there), “It is not the Monkey’s fault. He saw me struggling, he took pity on me. I must say, Henrietta, you have a very good Monkey.”

“Monkey?” Gerald’s face flushed a bright shade of pinkish red, “Monkey?”

“Is there an echo in here? Yes, Monkey. Though I’ve never seen a Monkey turn quite that shade of pinkish red before… but then I’ve never seen a Monkey without wings, either.”

“Gerald, what does he mean you took pity on him?” Henrietta gestured with her broom for Badone to take a seat, “If you tell me you’ve upset another perfectly decent Knight by interrupting them at work…”

“Well…”

“Gerald!” Henrietta let out an exasperated sigh, “We’ve been over this. Knight’s are meant to kill people.”

“Bad people.” Badone interjected.

Henrietta glared at Badone, “They don’t get much worse than Devious Overlords.”

“Actually, Devious is lowest rank an Overlord can aspire to. You should think yourselves lucky I’m not Destructive, or worse yet Malicious!”

“Yes, lucky.” Henrietta grumbled, her forearms throbbing as she mindlessly flexed the broom’s handle in her hands.

Then came a knock at the door.

“Erm, excuse me,” followed by a cough, “may I have your attention, please?”

“May who have our attention?” Henrietta inquired, broom bent in hand.

“Me.” the voice chirped back, “Who else.”

Henrietta took another, deeper breath, clasping the bridge of her nose between two fingers, then tried again, “And who might this me be?”

“Sir Prance-a-lot! Esquire to Her Royal Highness.”

“What do you want Prance-a-lot.” Badone hissed in a way that only a garden variety snake is capable (or a Devious Overlord, as it would seem).

“Well, here’s the thing, I’m getting awful fed up with Gerald interfering in my Knightly business. It’s just not right! So I’ve drafted a letter of complaint.”

“A letter of complaint?” Gerald sounded horrified.

“A letter of complaint.” Sir Prance-a-lot confirmed.

“A letter of complaint…” Henrietta repeated with a sharp intake of breath.

“Is there an echo in there? Yes, a letter of complaint.” the cottage’s letterbox fluttered open and a small envelope, crested with the royal seal, flopped on through, “Hand delivered. So there’s no point in trying to argue it was lost in the mail. I expect a response with in one working week. Now, I say good day.” and with that Sir Prance-a-lot… well, he went prancing on off, somewhat less dramatically than you might expect from a knight.

“Look what you’ve gone and done now, Gerald!” Henrietta raised her broom and whacked Gerald hard over the head with it, “You kind-hearted, well-meaning, GOD DAMN GOOD SAMARITAN!”

Badone gasped, “There’s no need for name calling! I’m sure the Monkey meant to cause some harm, or maybe slight discomfort at the very least.”

Gerald shook his head in shame.

“See, look what I have to live with. A coward of a man who mopes about helping every damned butterfly that sprains its ankle. Only it wouldn’t be so bad if it was only the butterflies.” Henrietta gritted her teeth, glaring at Badone, “It’s the fact he has to help the moths as well.”

“I don’t think moths have ankles, you know.” Badone started explaining, for all the use it did him.

Henrietta chased Badone out through the chimney, her broom thwacking madly in her hand, sending the Devious Overlord on his merry way by lighting the very firewood under his ass.

Copyright © K R Perry 2019

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