Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! (8 page)

Heather made a face. “That sounds gross on so many levels.”

Barth began pacing the room so as to demonstrate he was on edge. “I have a bad feeling. We need to get to Douchebagga’s castle. Fast.”

“Don’t you have any flying brooms?” Heather asked the wizard.

“I haven’t ridden a broom in ages.” The wizard stroked his beard with a bony hand. “Let me see what’s in my closet.” He walked up to a narrow wooden door in the corner of his chamber, and after several tugs and then a frustrated flick of the wand, the door finally opened. A big plume of dust escaped followed by a few skeletons, several empty beer cans, a blow up sex doll and a giant glass bong.

“Whoa,” Barth exclaimed. “I didn’t know you liked to party, Wizard.”

“Goodness.” The wizard turned a few shades of red. “I haven’t used this closet since college.” He reached into the back of the darkened space and pulled out a giant wooden broom. “This is all I have.”

Heather scowled. “A Numbus 1971? It’s kinda clunky.”

The wizard puffed up his scrawny chest as he struggled to hold the giant broom upright. “Back in my day, it was the coolest broom around.”

“What kind of gas mileage does it get?” Heather asked with a smirk.

The wizard shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

Barth eyed the contraption which was easily a foot taller than him. “Do you know how to drive one of these?” he asked Heather.

“I dunno. It’s got a manual transmission.” Heather shrugged. “I can give it a try.”

Barth strained under the weight of the broom as he took it from the wizard. It was heavier than his sword forged in iron and his chainmail combined. His gaze roamed the gearshift and then the console. “I don’t see a plugin for my Eye-Pod.”

“Who needs an Eye-Pod?” The wizard bent over the broom and pushed a few buttons on the console. “It’s got a state-of-the-art eight track player.”

Barth and Heather exchanged questioning looks as a loud clacking sound came from the console.

Suddenly, Latin-sounding music blared from the large sub-woofers in the back. “Oye-como-va!”

“Who in the hell is that?” Heather screamed over the din.

“You’re a witch, and you’ve never heard of Santana?” the wizard shouted. “Black Magic Woman? Evil Ways?”

“No.” She grimaced. “Sorry.”

The wizard heaved a very loud sigh. “The youth these days.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Barth asked Heather as they dismounted the clunky broom.

They’d landed on one of the turrets at Douchebagga’s castle. Barth leaned against a stone post and folded his beefy arms across his chest. He flipped his hair back and casually struck a pose that showcased his carefree and masculine sexuality, kind of like he’d seen those male models do in underwear ads. He only hoped his display would be charming enough to arouse Heather’s latent sexual desires.

“Eh, Barth.” Heather smirked. “You might not want to look down.”

“Huh?” Barth’s eyes widened, and of course, he looked over his shoulder, at the crocodile-infested moat that was several stories below the crumbling post he was leaning against. Either all of the crocs had turned into zombies or else they liked ripping each other’s limbs and heads off.

“Oh!” He jumped back.

“Douchebagga’s place is falling apart,” Heather warned. “She’s too cheap to hire a mason.”

Barth scanned his surroundings. The decrepit walls around him had several gaping holes. The floor beneath his boots wasn’t in much better shape. Barth swore, then reminded himself to tiptoe when walking through the castle.

“Thanks,” Barth said as he scooted away from the post. He followed Heather as she descended a narrow set of stairs that wound around the outside of the turret.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” he called at her back. “I was wrong to compare all witches to Douchebagga.”

Heather didn’t even bother turning around as she continued her descent. “I’m not going to sleep with you, so you can save your apologies.”

“W-shat?” Barth faltered and nearly lost his footing. He jumped back as a stone in the staircase broke apart.

“Quit playing dumb, Barth.” Heather stopped and spun around, her eyes almost level with the bulge beneath the belt of his tight pants. “I know you’re only after sex.” She glared up at him.

“That’s not true.” Barth vehemently shook his head. “I want to spoon with you afterwards, too.”

Heather heaved a sigh while burying her face in her hands. Finally she pulled her hands back. “I like you, Barth, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to jump in the sack with you. I’m tired of men using me just for sex.”

Barth arched a brow. “This happens often?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

Barth wondered just how many men Heather had slept with. And were they all men, or was she into inter-creature dating? Did she like to play the field and mix it up with hobbits and goblins? Or was she one of those skanks who thought size mattered and only dated trolls? Barth knew he couldn’t measure up to trolls, and he was suddenly overcome by a sense of inadequacy.

He scrunched his brow. “Like, what kind of men are we talking about?”

“Why? Are you worried I’ve got a sexually transmitted plague?”

“No.”
Ewwww
. He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, maybe.”

She reached up and jabbed a finger in his chest. “It doesn’t matter, Barth, because I’m not having sex with you. The next guy I sleep with will be someone who wants me for more than just my long lean legs, luscious curves and large, perky breasts.” She splayed a hand across her tit. “The next guy I sleep with will love what’s in here, too.”

Barth’s eyes widened as the fleshy mound jiggled beneath her touch. A tiny bit of drool slipped out of the corner of his mouth. “I do love what’s in there.”

“Not my tits, Barth!” She stomped a foot. “My heart.”

Barth blinked hard before shaking his head. “I know. You’ve got a kind heart. You wouldn’t want to save the kingdom if you didn’t. I was stupid for not seeing that before.”

Heather pulled back as her eyes narrowed to slits. “How do I know you’re not just saying this to get laid?”

“You’re going to have to get over your trust issues with men.” When she opened her mouth to speak, Barth held up a silencing palm. “I realize that a long time ago your father probably abandoned you or your uncle molested you.”

Heather fisted her hands on her hips. “I have an awesome dad and I don’t have an uncle.”

Barth arched a brow. “Or your grandpa beat you.”

“Grampy?” Heather gasped. “He’d never hurt me.”

“Well,” Barth groaned, “whatever internal conflict you have with trusting men, I will have to conquer your fears by doing something heroic and stupid and risk my life to save yours.”

“Or you can just not act like a dick.” Heather rolled her eyes. “That’s easier.”

“Or that.” Barth shrugged before following Heather down the rest of the winding staircase.

* * *

“Drag!” Barth clung to the bars of the enormous steel cage as his heart sank to his gut. His best friend was trapped inside. The giant spiked collar around the dragon’s neck was attached to a chain leading to a giant spike in the center of the cage.

“Well, it took you long enough,” Drag sniffled as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“What happened?” Barth asked.

Drag sat up and stretched his neck. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“We don’t have time.” Heather placed a hand on Barth’s back before glancing over her shoulder. “We need to get him out of here before Douchebagga finds us.”

“Vanishing Blahniks,” Drag cried out as another tear slipped down his snout. “That’s what happened.”

“Can you find a way in?” Heather asked Barth.

Barth nearly tripped over several dead rats as he searched the perimeter of the huge cage. He shuddered. Douchebagga really needed to hire a cleaning crew to come in and tidy up her dark, dank dungeon. And maybe hire an electrician to install some more lights. Barth fanned his nose. The dungeon reeked of something that smelled like rotting corpses. He briefly wondered if there was a Taco Bell nearby.

“One minute there was pretty shiny new pair of shoes inside the cage, next minute they were gone.” Drag ended on a choked sob before he laid down and covered his face with his large paws.

After searching the back and both sides of the cage, Barth finally spied the giant padlock on the front, below the huge sign marked ‘ENTRANCE’ in bold lettering.

“I found a lock,” he called to Heather who was rummaging through some cubbies behind him. “See if she keeps a key nearby.”

“No wining and dining, no roses, no diamond ring and no Blahniks! I feel so cheap, so used,” Drag wailed. “And now she just left me in here to rot. She says I can’t come out until I drink the potion.” Drag pointed to a large wooden goblet in the corner of his cage. “Is that really any way to win a guy over?”

“I don’t see anything,” Heather said.

“The least she could have done was make real Blahniks,” Drag continued. “She can turn an entire kingdom into flesh-eating zombies. Can’t she summon a simple shoe spell?”

Barth scratched his head while turning a circle. When he finally chanced a look up, he gasped.

“Look up there.” He pointed to the shiny key suspended midair, as if by magic. He cursed under his breath. The key was too far up for him to reach it. Then he realized how lucky they were that there was only one key and not several all flying around with crazy little wings like in a certain wizard saga. “How are we supposed to get it?”

Heather pulled out the long, phallic shaped wand from between the cavity of her breasts. “Let me try.”

Barth’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and for a moment, he was again jealous of the wand.

She pointed her wand at the key. “Releaseio!”

The key fell into Barth’s outstretched hand. He thrust a fist into the air. “Score!”

“Is anybody listening? Does anyone care about
my
needs?” Drag screeched.

Barth inserted the key and then hoisted the giant lock off the door. “I’ll give you my full attention as soon as I get you out, buddy.” He grunted as he strained to pull open the large cage door. He turned toward Heather. “Could you help me? It’s kinda heavy.”

Heather and Barth both strained and grunted as the door slowly moved on its hinges.

“Heather!” An ear-piercing, cackling screech came from behind Barth. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Heather gasped and spun around. “Douchebagga!”

The old witch hobbled down the stone steps toward them. “What are you doing?”

“Ummm.” Heather shrugged her shoulders while batting her eyes. Her voice took on an innocent, girly tone. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Douchebagga jutted out an elbow and put a gnarled hand on her hip. “It looks like you are trying to free my dragon.”

“I am not a pet.” Drag stomped a massive paw. “I have a name! I
demand
some respect!”

“Hush, Dragon.” Douchebagga waved her wand at Drag, and in the next instant, his mouth was sealed shut with a giant piece of duct tape.

“Drag!” Barth cried as he swung open the gate and rushed inside. Barth reached up and pulled the tape off Drag’s face.

Drag howled and then bitch slapped Barth with a meaty paw, sending Barth sprawling across the cage.

Drag rubbed his mouth. “Sorry, Barth. Knee-jerk reaction. That hurt worse than a waxing.”

Just as the old witch aimed her wand at Barth, Heather screamed. “Douchebagga, stop!”

“Or what?” The old hag narrowed her eyes to slits as she centered her aim at Heather’s chest. “What are you going to do, little witch?”

Heather said nothing as she raised a shaky hand and pointed her wand at Douchebagga.

Douchebagga cocked a bushy brow. “Don’t point that wand at me unless you intend to use it.”

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Heather stammered. “I just want you to give us the wizard’s potion and let us go.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll turn you into a goat.”

Douchebagga tilted her head and flashed a nearly toothless grin. “A goat? That’s a difficult spell for such a young witch. Why not something more simple? Say, a rat!”

She flicked her wand at Heather and in the next instant, Heather had transformed into a rodent.