Witches Be Crazy, page 23
“Ah, here it is! Says here that you’re typically taller, more muscular, have larger hands and feet, and have deeper voices than women.” She looked him up and down studiously. “Well, seems like you are most of that.”
Dungar had no response; he just stared at her with a mostly expressionless face.
“You have very crazy eyes …” She added uncomfortably in a soft voice.
“So I’ve been told.” He agreed, returning to his pacing. “And I’m more interested in what you’ve been told. Clearly the popular opinion on men around here didn’t come out of that book in your hand.”
“Oh. No it did not.”
The room went quiet for a moment. Dungar stopped his pacing and looked back towards the table. The girl’s eyes were still transfixed on him, but she didn’t seem to want to answer the question.
“Okay look I get it, men are bad. Or something.” He grunted, running a hand through his beard.”
“Well you can’t be all bad!” She offered quickly. “I mean hey! You’ve been in here almost ten minutes and you haven’t raped me!”
Dungar turned back to her with another raised eyebrow.
“… yet?” She added, smile weakening.
“I’m not a bloody rapist!”
“Oh. Well that’s good.”
The blacksmith let out another exasperated sigh as he slumped into a chair at a table of his own and put his face in his hand.
“My name’s Rose!” The girl informed him happily in her perky voice. She flipped open another book and began turning pages. “I looked it up a while back. It means pretty flower!”
“A rose is a kind of flower …” Dungar mumbled into his hand, not looking up.
“Really? Oh Suola that makes so much more sense!”
He mumbled something incoherent as acknowledgement, clearly not interested. Rose continued to look at him curiously while twiddling her thumbs and making popping noises with her mouth before piping up yet again.
“What’s your name? Men have names right?”
“Dungar.”
“Dungar … Dungar … You ever fight marbalts?”
He perked up at the remark, but before he could respond the door to the library burst open and two guards came in.
“You! Prisoner! The town Lady has demanded your presence. Come with us now.”
“Damn it, Jimmy …”
TWENTY-ONE
It Ain’t Over ’Til the Fat Lady Cries
Dungar, unsurprisingly, was not much of a ladies man. He had always been content enough with his reclusive lifestyle that he’d never really needed to mingle with the creatures much. Still, even in lieu of receiving much affection from them, he never harbored prejudice. Regardless of age, weight, or gender, he lived by his stalwart “live, leave me alone, and let live” policy, even having no real opinion on those with radical views so long as they didn’t endanger or impose them upon him. However, despite his penchant for neutrality, he couldn’t help but notice dealings with women hadn’t been working out for him very well lately.
He couldn’t even fathom how Bibi managed to become the leader of this town in the first place, let alone why the rest of the residents put up with it. The town seemed to function well enough and perhaps even thrive under her sweaty rippling tutelage. However it was unclear if such prosperity was achieved because of her or in spite of her.
Regardless, her lemming guards appeared more than willing to carry out her wishes and now he was stuck being forced into an audience with her. Wordlessly, Dungar complied with their instructions and accompanied the guards out of the library while Rose silently watched. Most of the trip to the queen bee’s house was rather uneventful. No friendly banter was shared between any members of the party. It was only when another voice was heard that things got a little more interesting.
“SPIDER!!!” A voice shrieked off in the distance at a volume somewhere between deafen and kill.
Immediately every single woman on the street erupted into a full blown panic attack. Arms went into the air and screeches were screeched as everyone lacking a Y chromosome began scanning the ground in a terrified hurry to locate the creature and avoid encountering it. Eventually a void had formed in the horrified mob, a perfect circle of ladies yelling, pointing, and hopping up and down hysterically as the tiny bewildered arachnid slowly inched in Dungar’s direction.
As the miniscule creature reached him, Dungar shrugged and stomped it with his boot. Immediately the panic and fear turned to mirth and celebration as all the women cheered then proceeded to pick up any dropped or thrown items and carry on with their business as if nothing had happened. The guards seemed a little embarrassed as they slowly returned to their escorting duties. From her pocket, one of them produced two gold coins and handed them to the blacksmith.
“Here.”
“What are these for?” He asked curiously before he’d take them.
“It is protocol to reward anyone who kills a spider in our town.”
Dungar was struck dumb by the statement. Two pieces of gold for the life of one measly spider that posed a threat to nobody. If this town was more male-friendly he would seriously consider relocating here. He could make a killing doing pest removal.
Eventually they made it to what he could only assume was Bibi’s house. There was an absolutely enormous doorway, the likes of which Dungar had only ever seen on a barn. What the house lacked in height it certainly made up for in width, not unlike the individual housed inside. It appeared to be the equivalent to a three story building if each floor was removed and placed on ground level next to each other. He couldn’t imagine how she utilized all that space.
“Alright, she is waiting for you inside.” One of the guards instructed as she and her partner stationed themselves at the entrance.
“How can she afford a place like this?!” He inquired, flabbergasted.
“Her parents left it to her.” She explained nonchalantly. “They left her the whole town. The Dubya family has run the town of SRS for generations.”
“Generations? How can you have more than one generation if the town is all women?”
“It hasn’t always been this way. The town has always been predominantly women. But when she took over about fifteen years or so ago, Lady Dubya ordered the execution of her THREE rapists.” She glared at Dungar as she looked him up and down. “Since then we haven’t allowed you savages within our walls. Now go, our lady is waiting.”
“Can’t wait.” Dungar mumbled as he pushed open one of the double wide doors and lumbered into the lair. Immediately his nostrils were assaulted by the putrid aroma of mold. From floor to ceiling the room he entered was piled with what could only be described as junk. The stacks of broken chairs, albeit fitting, could not be judged as they reminded him of home. However the furniture heaps were interlaced with old rotten food, dirty dishes, dirty clothing, rat droppings, and, most of all, dust. There was a thick coat of dust on everything in sight as if the room had not been cleaned since its construction.
Clearing his throat so he could breathe through his mouth, Dungar followed the pathway that was helpfully carved in the detritus. It was a shot in the dark, but seemed to be his best bet to locate her. Entering the next room, he found it to be filled not only with more of the same rubbish and filth but also the sound of movement, indicating there was something else in there with him.
“Oh hello, mista Dungar!” Jimminy greeted, emerging from a part of the pathway that was blocked by a garbage hill. “Wot brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Your girlfriend wanted to see me.” Dungar informed him worriedly.
“Oh is that right? That’s good. I was hoping you two would get along! I meself was just off to the Star Fields. Me sweet Bibi said she loved me last bouquet and wanted another.”
“Jimmy, she didn’t even take the last one you gave her. She left it behind when you two walked away.”
“Well then that’s probably why she wanted another! You’re a clever bloke, mista Dungar.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all!”
They stood in silence for a moment just staring at one another. Jimminy’s usual optimistic smile had weakened a bit as he read the visible distress on the blacksmith’s face. Dungar inhaled deeply, coughing a bit on the smell, before he resumed trying to reason in a calmer voice.
“Look, Jimmy, I know she has the troubled past and I guess that might help to explain why she is the way she is. But don’t you at least think it’s possible that she’s just using you? I mean I don’t give a damn who you love or if you want to get hurt or anything. It’s just … Y’know, the mission. I don’t want you to get needlessly side-tracked.”
Jimminy silently mulled over Dungar’s statement as he thoughtfully ran his hand over his goatee. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke again.
“Mista Dungar, I know that Bibi can seem a little rough around the edges. And perhaps I’m just blinded by how unbelievably hot she is, but I cannot help how I feel for her. I’m happy just to be around her, I’m made happy by how sure I am that deep down she feels the same way about me, and I can’t remember the last time I met anyone else that made me feel this way. I know that not everyone will see her in the same light that I do, but I’m sure even a great bloke like yourself is disliked by some. I hope you can bring yourself to understand.”
Dungar stood silently taking in everything his friend just said. He had no response, he wasn’t even sure what he thought anymore. He knew how he felt and he knew how he should be feeling, and mediating between the two was never easy. Fortunately Jimminy did not wait for a response.
“Anyway, mate. I should go pick some lovelies for me lovely. Be back in a jiff!”
Familiar cheeky smile back on his face, Jimminy strode past him and off towards the entrance, agilely hopping over piles of trash.
Now alone in the room, Dungar tried to collect his thoughts. He still couldn’t bring himself to eliminate any of his contempt for Lady Dubya, but, painful as it was to admit, his friend did raise a valid point. Whether or not she truly was wicked, as long as she made Jimminy happy then maybe it was no one’s business besides the two of theirs.
He wasn’t sure why he resumed delving deeper into the disgusting den after that. Perhaps something subconscious drove him to, or perhaps he never took the second to think better of it, but before long he found himself walking into the room at the end of the wretched passage. As he opened the door he discovered the origin of the offensive odor.
The stench permeating the room was positively fetid. Even breathing through his mouth couldn’t keep him from doubling over. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for what lay inside. There were food remnants absolutely everywhere one could look. Some of it was still its original color, much of it was not. There was no attempt at cleanliness or organization either. The entire layout appeared to have resulted from leftovers simply being tossed to the side and left to go rancid. The sound of tiny scurrying paws indicated the local vermin had decided to capitalize on this horrific squalor shrine.
But then there was the elephant in the room, and the fact she had squeezed her enormous body into what appeared to be a teddy, although much of it was hidden beneath rolls of doughy flesh. Cottage cheese could not even begin to describe her complexion. The parts of her that weren’t covered in sauce so white and lumpy it almost looked like she had melted into place while striking her unnerving attempt at a provocative pose.
“Hey there, big boy. Your turn.” She cooed at the blacksmith who was now frozen in place.
Dungar had found himself at a loss for words many times over the course of this adventure, but in this particular situation he was so surprised, confused, and revolted that he may have actually blacked out for a moment. A brief muffled choking sound was all he could muster.
“I’m glad you could accept my invitation for some alone time.” She spoke seductively, rolling over flat onto her back.
Dungar remained motionless. His mind was blank, his body was fixed, and his senses had shut down to protect themselves from further harm. Bibi did not seem to register his reluctance and continued with her efforts to entice.
“Come here, mister manly man.” She whispered, using one of her swollen sausage-like fingers to beckon him while wiggling her tongue around.
Dungar’s mind had now come back online, and the first thing he noticed was his eyes had glazed over. He quickly shook his head and refocused his attention before she mistook them for doughnuts and attacked. Reeling from her audacity, he briefly fantasized about how one flick of his flint and steel could turn her into a raging grease fire before he retorted.
“Are you out of your mind?”
The shocked stack of cellulite displayed impressive physical strength when she hauled her rippling self upright in the bed. Clearly she had not been expecting this response.
“I SAW YOU LOOKIN’ AT MY CURVES!” She screamed back, her mighty mane of blubber wobbling as she yelled.
“You’re mistaken.” He informed her in a calmer tone, regaining his composure. On that, he turned to leave the room, but the Lady was not done with him yet.
“If you don’t make love to me I’ll have you executed!”
He froze in the doorway then slowly turned around.
“That’s right.” She informed smugly, casually inspecting her nails with a malicious smile on her face. “Don’t think I won’t. I already have a buncha times, and it has been awhile since I reminded my girls about the dangers of men. Fear helps keep them in line, y’know?”
Just like that he had the chilling answer to all the questions floating around in his mind. He could only wonder how many men had been scared into stiffness from this tactic of hers. But before he got to weigh his options he had a realization that made the decision quite easy.
“I’d rather die.”
“YOU’RE NOT A REAL MAN! REAL MEN LIKE GIRLS WITH CURVES! REAL MEN KNOW THAT REAL BEAUTY IS BURIED INSIDE! YOU’RE JUST A SHALLOW BASTARD WHO ONLY LIKES SKINNY BITCHES! YOU JUST HATE ME BECAUSE I’M FAT! YOU’RE NOT A REAL MAN LIKE JIMMY! HE KNOWS HOW TO TREAT A PROPER LADY LIKE ME RIGHT! HE’LL DO ANYTHING I WANT.”
Turning back around, Dungar stomped over to the bed and used one of his monstrous hands to grab her jiggling jaw as he roared:
“HIS NAME IS JIMMINY!”
Now it was Bibi who was frozen in place. Her eyes were so wide that they could actually be seen under their fat folds, and they were fearfully frozen in Dungar’s commanding gaze. Using all of his strength, he threw her back down into the bed then leaned in close while pointing a menacing finger at her.
“Now I was content to let him be happy with whoever he wanted, but seeing the kind of vile human being that you are I now know that could never happen with you. He has thrown himself at your feet and you’re comfortable to just kick him around until he outlives his usefulness, knowing all the while he will just blame himself for everything like he did last time. I don’t hate you because you’re two tons worth of lard, I hate you because you are a selfish, entitled, manipulative, and evil woman, and anyone who might have ever loved you was wrong. I am not letting my friend spend another second here with you even if it means I have to drag him out of here against his will.”
In all his life, Dungar had never said anything that awful to another person, and the greasy tears welling up in her eye sockets indicated his words had hit home. But there had been many firsts on this trip, and he had never met anyone more deserving of those words than Lady Bibi Dubya. In fact, he decided while he was at it he may as well go for broke.
“And even if I did want to find this beauty that you claim is buried deep down, I’d need an excavation team and about six lifetimes’ worth of digging.”
At that, the sobbing began. But frankly Dungar had felt worse for the bed than for the blubbering woman lying in it. He had never felt less sympathy for anything else. Bad idea as it was to say, he had meant every word. Maintaining tact and rationale in the face of threats was a skill he needed significantly more practice in. Calmly, he stood up and proceeded for the door. He was then stopped one last time by one last yell amid the sniffling.
“I’M BIG BONED!”
“BONES DON’T JIGGLE!” He fired back over his shoulder.
As he rounded the corner, he stepped up to a much brisker pace. He knew there were definitely going to be ramifications for the events that had just transpired, but if he was quick enough he may be able to make it out of town before they were upon him. An ear piercing shriek from the bedroom determined that he would have no such luck.
Within seconds he found himself tackled to the ground by his armor-clad escorts. One held him at sword point while the other quickly ran to check on Bibi.
“HE … HE RAPED MUH!” The ham planet managed to blurt out amid the tears and sobbing. Her freshly shattered emotions helped make her lie more convincing. This was certainly not good; the fiery eyes of the guard looming over him indicated they bought every word of the sniffling lady’s story.
As the other guard returned, Dungar was hauled to his feet and his wrists shackled. Shortly afterward, his rotund accuser emerged from the bedroom wearing a tent-sized robe. Her thick painted-on makeup was now running down her cheeks with her oily tears. The look she was currently giving him was a clear sign that her brief spell of sadness had made the transition to anger.
“Take him to the Den of Disposal!” She snapped, smearing her makeup further as she tried to wipe it.
Obedient as ever, the guards ushered Dungar out the door, onto the street, and down another avenue towards a town hall of some sort. If it weren’t for the sharp metal objects they carried, Dungar would have considered tossing both guards and making a run for it. However, at the rate word spread around town, he’d probably have an entire barricade waiting for him by the time he made it to the gate anyway.
It hadn’t even been five minutes since he was arrested for his alleged crime and already a crowd was beginning to form at this ominously named Den of Disposal. He gaped at the glaring women that filed into the city center after him. He was familiar with the concept of gossip getting word out quickly, but the rate of information transfer in this town was inhuman.
