“And here’s the conversation I don’t understand again,” Ryan sighed.
“I don’t understand it either,” I said. “Or anything Gary is saying. You shouldn’t want to. I don’t.”
“Ladies and gentleman!” a voice called out from behind us. “Can I have your attention please?”
I turned and looked over my shoulder. There stood a man in the middle of the tavern, on a small stage. He smiled as the noise of the crowd died down. In his hands, he carried a small lute, the strings taut, the baseboard made of oak. He ran his hands over the strings once and a melodious sound fell from them, bright and cheery.
The blood drained from my face.
It was the man Tiggy and Gary had been talking to.
And he was the bard o’ the tavern.
Meaning he sang songs.
Many times by request.
Many times made up on the spot.
I turned slowly to Tiggy and Gary, my heart thundering in my chest.
They were grinning at me, wide and toothy.
“You… didn’t.”
“Oh, Sam,” Gary said. “You should never underestimate a unicorn and a giant.”
“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.
“We’re leaving,” I said. “Now.”
Gary sat on me.
“Oh… shit,” I managed to wheeze as my chair creaked underneath us.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Gary said, wiggling a bit.
“Can’t… breathe….”
“Are you calling me fat?” he said, looking back at me.
“Seriously…. Gary… for the love of gods.” His tail flicked once into my face. “Your asshole… is right there.”
“Good thing I poop rainbows and cookie smells,” he reminded me. As if that was supposed to make this any less awkward.
“I do hope you’re enjoying your evening here in Arvin’s Crossing,” the bard said, completely oblivious that I was technically getting to third base with a unicorn while Tiggy and Ryan watched. I thought maybe I’d had a dream like that once. It was not sexy. “But, chances are, since you’re in Arvin’s Crossing, you’re not having any fun at all.”
The others in the tavern laughed uproariously. I was too busy getting squished by a gigantic ass. Plus, it wasn’t that funny. Maybe it was a more of a regional humor kind of thing. Not like puns. Puns are universal. And awesome.
“But!” the bard said when the laughter died down. “We are truly in the presence of greatness tonight, folks. Guests of honor so astounding that the floor will tremble beneath your very feet. But first! A brief word from our sponsors who help keep me, your host, Zal the Magnificent, in business.” He bowed and took a step off the stage.
A thin man with a receding hairline stood up and took his place. When he spoke, it was in monotone as he read from a dirty piece of parchment in his hands. “Do you have gout? Is your love life suffering because you’re inadequately proportioned? Do you lie awake at night and dream about setting people on fire and bathing in their boiling blood? If you answered yes to any of those questions, then hold on to your hats, because I have a solution for you. Dr. Troy’s Amazing Elixir of Rejuvenation, Revitalization, and Repression. Just one sip and your joints will be limber, you’ll have a giant member, and you won’t feel the need to conflagrate and dismember. Dr. Troy’s Amazing Elixir of Rejuvenation, Revitalization, and Repression. Buy it today.” He took a breath and then muttered quickly and quietly, “Dr. Troy is under royal decree to disclose that he is not a real doctor, has never been to medical school, and makes the elixir in his shack in the woods. It should not be consumed by anyone in their right mind or who wants to continue to live in a remotely healthy way. Do not feed it to animals or children or they will die a horribly painful death when their insides melt and leave the body in a most effervescent manner through every orifice available.”
The man stepped off the stage.
“Gary, if you don’t get off me, I’m going to magic you to death,” I whisper-shouted.
“Shhh,” Gary said. “It’s rude to try and interrupt an artist about to perform.”