The king is dead, the king is dead
the proclamation of these words rippled through the kingdom of Druidia. The high elves did not answer, because Druidia was not earth or the middle of it, but an external system, strangely inhabited by usual people and their king. Who was dead. As usual, when these words are uttered.
My father dead?
The princess sat at her room, staring down the mass of people which ran to the castle. Thousands of them ran, screaming in terror.
Yes, my dear.
Prince King Lonestar nodded. The symbol of his royal status glittered in the dark like the opposite of Tannhauser Gate.
People die. Do you remember, how many people died, when the air was sucked out of Druidia 30 years ago? Or the people, who died from bad cornflakes? Or the people, who died by the explosions of a certain flamethrower?
Now is a bad time and yesterday was a better time.
But how did he die?
I dont know. Maybe Waldemar know is. Waldi waldemar. A dog. Mog. You know. My former best friend, who entered the central army of Druidia and went missing on earth?
The princess yelled as usual, when her headphones were too loud for her thoughts.
Yes, your highness?
The golden Dottie Matrix still looked marvelous. Her virgin alarm had been deactivated for quite some time, but the rest of her electronics had been enhanced to a point, where death itself was scared meeting her. Her smile consisted of several dead pixels, more art than defects. The moment, she had been replaced by maids and newer robots, her mind had lost its purpose. And now she was the only robot of the castle. People hated robots. They liked servants more.
Why is my father dead?
The princess fingered the curls of her glorious hair. Her mouth was fuming in fear.
He was killed. Remember President Snoob?
That gangster! His ship went down on the planet of apes.
His minions probably found something, deep in the caves of the lost mountains. The place, where not even the ape-overlords dared to look. I got information from Mog. Waldi, I mean.
Like the Morloks?
No. Different timelines. Outcomes. You see, no one destroyed the moon, because the apes took over in 2036. Therefore … no Lunar Park. No broken moon.
I am too old for this kind of adventure. But I have to check it out.
Lonestar shrugged. His formal suit, the only thing outside of this space-RV and his talisman, had become tighter and tighter during the last decades. His beard itched.
The princess looked at him.
Because how would such a creature kill your late father in his favorite bathroom, bathroom number 29? It is impossible to get here. Between here and earth are the sandpits of Rugratistan, the Zed-Empire and Ballspace II. You know, the emporer of Ballspace II. That guy is mad. He believes, he is drinking tiger blood and is eating caramel sauce. Therefore, a ship would need Ludicrous Speed squared to get such an entity to this place. And Dottie is the best bodyguard who has ever existed. Next to Waldi.
Chapter II of II
Down the stairs Dottie trotted. Her feet felt like iron, but were made out of gold, because gold looks good but its more or less a soft metal. Her head danced. She was not alone.
Here in the dungeons, forbidden for every living Druidian, existed way too many treasures and some of them still lived.
She left the corridor to the right, ignored the screams of the spiders, the gulping slurp of a tentacle, she had brought from Argonautica, which produced great satisfaction for those, who did not survive the encounter. She also ignored the silent screams of Frankensteins Monster, which stared at her like an eyeless bug.
Someone should dust here.
The pixels in her mouthpiece moved, created patters, which attracted several sensors of the hidden camera in front of her. Machinations older than 50 millennia started to work, a door in the wall was opening. Behind that wall sat a pale creature, whiter than a pearl. Its eyes were black, its mouth full of teeth and blood. It was not in chains. It did not even startle, when Dottie entered the room.
Hello my dear. I hope, you feel good.
The creature snarled meaty syllables through the darkness.
Yes. The king is dead. Which means, that the princess will be queen soon enough.
But for what reason?
A reason? The king wanted to know, where Waldi was. And why Scoob was back. And … well, my alarm is only ringing for myself. Kiss me, creature. Kiss me. Over and over again.
Somewhere horses neighed. An eyeless creature sat on a tower playing the violin. An inquisitor sang songs full of woe and demise. A young prince pulled a glaive out of a stream of lava. Maybe magma. All these creature sounds became one voice, the masterful voice of Dark Helmet, his mind fighting the madness deep in the forbidden mountains, while outside of his tiny hidden cave more and more pearlwhite creatures snarled, ripping apart the survivors of the Spaceball One. And the ape men looked down the pit and made bets and no one really asked, why Dark Helmet played with his dolls again. But in the end, are we are not dolls in the mind of some golden robot falling in love with a Descenter-Creature, while eating cornflakes in some hinterland-spacestation?
Why are we here?
You are here to marry.
To marry? Who?
I don’t know. Some prince Valium or so.
But what about Lonestar?
Druidia has no Texas, princess. If you mean the man, he still is out there trying to find his parents.
And this will take long, right?
The princess touched her face. She could feel the wrinkles next to her mouth.
Not longer than a dream. Not longer than a deep deep dream.