Chapter Three

"Vance? Is that you? It is! Oh, please, guards remove the restraints. We can't treat my best friend and his friends with such rudeness." the king announced.

As Vance was freed, he stepped forward squinting his eyes, "Moo...moo, moo, moo?"

"Yes Vance, it's me, Mookie. I didn't die in that pencil sharpening accident. Almost, but thanks to the favor of Merf and these kind bunnies I still live. There'll be time for that later though. First, what brings you here?"

Vance related how we came to be questing for the Banister Fruit and the agreement we made with Nubby Barnwhaft. They talked cow so I couldn't be sure what Vance was saying but, knowing Vance, he was probably taking credit for finding the twinkees.

Not one that liked being left out, Bruno stepped up and joined the conversation, no doubt to tell how he always liked beans. I don't know why, but he had an annoying habit of announcing that he liked beans to anyone at the drop of a hat. When they were through, Mookie rose and announced that we would be the guests of honor at a banquet. Great! More Juicy Fruit and twinkees, we truly were living high on the Corinthian Water Polyp.

We were led right into the next room where a banquet was already set. It looked alot like the monk's banquet room and, for a second, I thought we were there again when Mervin sat down. If you ask me, a monk in a room just tends to brighten the decor and add to any dining experience.

The cuisine was much the same as at the monastery, but there was something different. Mookie had decreed that in his tower no red meat would be served. This announcement lit up Brophy's face; he knew what was to follow and was salivating in anticipation. In came the ham! Nothing like ham to preceed a twinkee dessert.

The meal was over soon and Mookie finally started the tale of his pencil sharpening rescue.

"Well, after the accident, I saw Vance run off to get help but, when he returned I was gone -missing. These good bunnies found me and took me here, to King Z's Immense Tower. Here they healed me -they are remarkable healers by the way-and they decided that they wanted me to stay and be their king." Mookie said. As he finished, he tossed something to Vance.

Vance looked at the thing he held in his hooves and started to cry. It was the pencil Mookie risked his life to sharpen. Mookie hugged Vance while he cried trying to comfort him. There is nothing more touching than watching two male cows embracing. Faintly, I heard Brophy say, "Fags!" under his breath, but I don't think anyone else heard it.

Mervin broke the mood of the scene, "I don't mean to interrupt you two fondling each other but, we did have a reason for coming here, didn't we? Or was I kidnapped for the fun of it?"

"Well I think it's pretty obvious that it wasn't for the fun of it -monka monka monkey." Brophy said in his taunting voice.

I tried to cut it off right there but, Mervin was quick.

In seconds I had a groundhog in my pants (YES!) and an angry monk trying to rip them off. There is a line you never cross with a midget, never try to open his fly without permission. I flung the monk against the wall and heard his spine crack.

My face flushed (clockwise since we were above the equator). Because of the super strength midgets have in defending their zippers I thought Mervin might be dead. A bunny hopped over and waved his tail over the monk which caused him to jump up. He shot me a dirty look and went to sulk in a corner away from me and my pants.

"Truth is, we are really here for something other than a visit, King Mookie." I said liking the sound of it, "And we are in a hurry. Do you know anything about Banister Fruit?"

"Oh sure, she's right here." he motioned to one of the shorter, but still large bunnies, "what do you want to know?"

I looked at Fern and all she could do was shrug her shoulders. She whispered to me, "Nobody told me Banister Fruit was a mammal, only where to find it. Are you going to finish your ham? It's such a change from all the red meat I've been eating."

"Well, we came a long way to find Banister Fruit, I'm not sure why," I said glaring at Fern, "but, we had to find it...her."

"Oh, I see. You're the nineteenth group to come looking for her. Congratulations! We should really take that sign down on Route 1346 -we are getting far too many visitors, out of the Mobile guide too." he said to a servant bunny who was taking vigorous notes.

Mookie appeared dismayed that we had to leave in the morning but, he realized that we all had our things to do. He asked, "Vance would you like to stay or maybe come back after your job is done? I have much need of fine cows to help me command."

Vance said he would sleep on it and answer him in the morning. We were then brought to our rooms, which were complete with toilets, much to Bruno's delight. Mervin still had a hat, but he didn't look too anxious to surrender it to Bruno's bowels. We all fell asleep to Bruno's voice making the announcement of how ham really gave him gas.

When morning came Bruno was conspicuously absent, but we readied ourselves to leave anyway. I purposely left Vance alone for the night, not wanting to pressure him into coming with us. Before breakfast he came to me and telepathically told me that he would be going with us, after all, he had big drachmas riding on this. Besides, Mookie didn't seem like the same fun loving cow he had been all those dingbars ago.

We entered the throne room to say our goodbyes and found Bruno standing by King Z's side. Mookie had an announcement, "I would like to trade you Banister Fruit for Bruno. He has agreed to become my new vice-president of security since Vance isn't going to stay."

Bruno jumped up and down clapping his hooves together excitedly; he had wanted to be traded for a fuzzy bunny since high school, but never got his wish until now. Bruno wished us gopher luck and instructed a bunny to go get Banister Fruit.

She hopped in to learn that she had been traded for a cow. "A cow, one lousy cow? Geez the value of fuzzy bunnies must have gone way down. Last trade we made like this, we got four penguins, a sea lion, and two pelicans. Eh, Inflation is ruining everything. Where are we going?"

"We're not sure. Do you know anything about parking lot thefts?" I asked.

"Oh sure, who doesn't?" she said looking at me like I was an idiot. A look I was far too used to.

Mervin came closer, "Do you know where they are?"

"Don't be a moron Mr. Monk, of course I know, but first we will need something to get us there. Cows can't teleport there -it's been cow proofed." she added.

"And where would we get something like that?" Brophy asked.

"I'm surrounded by Vikings! Big Parfoom's Used Sled Yard." she responded.

Brophy winced at the derisive Viking remark. I couldn't blame him for retreating to the safety of my pants. Hell, I would have myself, but it was time to leave. I thought to myself that maybe going after Banister Fruit was a good idea after all and told Vance to get us to Big Parfoom's. After the room was emptied of non-cows, Vance chanted us to the Yard.

We arrived in a darkened field outside an old empty yard. This was where Parfoom's Sleds used to be. What happened to it? There were potholes and what looked like bomb craters. There must have been a battle fought here between Parfoom and tiny invaders. No sleds were visible at first but, finally we found one half-buried and in pretty shabby shape. After digging it out, we tried starting it. It appeared to work but, we couldn't be too sure it would last long.

About to leave, we were startled to hear the pained cries of one of Parfoom's guards and hurried to his aid. Unfortunately, he was beyond Banister Fruit's ability to heal and we could not save him. He uttered one word before he kicked off, "Mice...."

I started to think about this. It was too much of a coincidence that we found Fern in just this type of setting and now a trusted guard deer of Parfoom's confirmed my hunch about mice doing this. Was Fern part of an attacking mouse patrol like the ones I heard about raiding the iceboxes of Northern Berfina? Too many unanswered questions and not enough time. My midget sense for danger told me that this meant trouble.

We got back to the sled and started to glide, but I set us a different course. We were going to New Berfina to get to the bottom of this mouse business and to find Parfoom. He was one of my best friends in the park rangers and I had to find out what happened to him. Parfoom was the first one to introduce smoking Rhino-Butts (we are talking monster rush with those babies) to me -those were the days.

Brophy held the controls to the sled and guided us close over the treetops toward Berfina. Fern seemed to get more edgy after I announced our new course change, but she claimed to have a fear of flying with cows as an excuse, a very common ailment.

We had flown for several hours when the orange juice pump on the sled went bad and we had to land to try to fix it. Brophy set us down in a small clearing surrounded by thick jungle and we got out while the Brophster went about fixing it. Mervin decided that this would be a good time to go and answer the call of nature, so I went with him.

Mervin led the way through the underbrush taking a path toward a rather large chestnut tree. When we got to the tree I heard a rustling sound coming from a nearby bush and I turned to find a pygmy with a long spear watching. Then I took a closer look, there were a couple dozen of them all around us. Mervin apparently didn't notice our company in the forest until he had filled a few shoes. Startled, he went into a panic begging for his life, wishing that he might have one more twinkee before his death.

The pygmies looked puzzled at the groveling monk. They had never been so honored as to be christened by a man of the cloth. Still, they agreed that we should be killed. All the while I called Vance, using our telepathic link. Seconds later, he appeared by my side as the sounds of the others running through the woods reached my ears.

Now that they had us all captured, (maybe it wasn't a good idea to call Vance like that, although the natives did enjoy his aroma) their medicine man did an anti-teleportation dance, naked for the effect, and gave us a choice: "Either your monk submits to the Horn Challenge or you will all die without so much as a small pudding!"

Of course, we forced Mervin to go through with it. We didn't know what the Horn Challenge was, but it had to be better than puddingless death.

Our hosts led us to the clearing by our sled and told us to get ready. They gave us instructions on how the Challenge would be carried out and Mervin almost fainted when he heard what the Horn Challenge entailed -shampoo! That's right, the Horn Challenge was a shampoo horn duel! We were given the ceremonial shampoo to use in the lathering process and were told of the complex protocol. At the same time, their champion dueler lathered in a meditative state chanting "Angular g-cleft with foobies coming at ya!" at unearthly tones.

Once the scrubbing bubbles had done their job, it was time to build the weapon of destruction. Starting at the back of his head we made a horn with a menacing look if not feel to it. Even the normally brave Vance turned white when he thought of meeting this holy horned one in a darkened milk factory. The natives cheered as their champ strode forth proudly displaying the horn the whole tribe envied. Battle was about to be joined and shampoo lust filled everyone's veins.

The Horn Challenge was a time honored tradition among the pygmies often used to choose who would get to burp the chief. People died for the privilege and many more would never walk the same. A chant arose from the crowd as the two combatants approached the middle of the field, "We live and die by the horn! We live and die by the horn!" The roar was deafening.

The contest started when the referee blew a low E sound on his kazoo. The pygmy had a very aggressive style forcing Mervin to parry countless times before he got an opening. When he did finally strike, we all moaned because his horn just glanced off the side of the champ's face. This left Mervin wide open to a wicked slash to his right temple. A trickle of blood ran down the monk's face as he was beaten back time after time. Again the champ's carefully aimed thrust found it's mark cutting Mervin across the eyebrow sending him to the ground.

A group of pygmies danced in triumph while the others shouted, "Hail the Horn!" This was all too humiliating to Mervin and so he called on the great Merf, god of the twinkees, to aid him. When he regained his feet he reached for the twinkee he had stashed for emergencies and ate it whole. A surge of power flowed through him; he now had the strength of twenty Elvis impersonators and the skill of the ten best bowlers of all time.

With his new found strength and skill, he entered the death duel again. This time it was Mervin that sent the champ sprawling with a major gash to the noggin. The champ tried to get back up but, the chief intervened.

"Never has one of my goombas been bested by a foreign monk. We salute you and grant your freedom along with your friends. I would also like to offer you, Mr. Monk, the position of pygmy champ. It has excellent benefits - medical, dental, paid vacations, profit sharing- and you get the undying admiration of our entire tribe, at least till you lose a match. How about it?" asked the chief.

"I'm sorry chief, but I can't be bought, not even rented maybe sublet, but I'm not that kind of monk. It's not my style. Besides, I think that this job would seriously curtail my monking and we couldn't have that. I'll have to say no. Thank you anyway." Mervin said.

"Well, at least allow my tribe mechanic to fix your sled. You do know it's a piece of crap, don't you? Could I interest you in a good deal on some camels?" the chief rambled.

"No, thanks. Fixing the sled would be plenty." Mervin said trying to keep his patience.

"Well then, can I interest you in a watch? Real quartz timin..."

"No."

"Land that I own in the Berfinian Swamp?"

"No."

"The Berfinian Bridge?"

"NO."

"A fudgcicle?"

"NO!!! Shut up you damn idiot! I don't want fudge, I don't want a bridge, I don't want swamp land, I don't want anything! I just want you to get the hell out of my Merf-damn face!!!" Mervin yelled.

"How about a nice pen and pencil set with a pygmy engraved on it?"

"AAAAAA!!!! I asked him to stop!" Mervin seemed to be talking to himself now, "I asked him to leave!" The monk was now laughing and drooling uncontrollably. I thought it would be best to get him away from the chief while the repairs were completed. No sense in getting us killed now.

After the repairs were made, we piled into the sled.

The natives all waved and yelled, "Hail the Horned Conqueror!" as we took to the air. In the distance I heard the chief say, "How about a magic twinkee making machine?" Mervin nearly dove overboard, but it was too late, we were too far away.

Under the guidance of Banister Fruit, Brophy piloted us much further into jungles that gradually changed to dense evergreens. We had just crossed the border of Northern Berfina when we ran into another problem -no gas. Again we glided in for a landing, this time right next to a bar full of bikers. The bar had a sign with a picture of a chimp at its entrance that said: "If you ain't as tall as Bobo, you can't come in."

Unfortunately, me, Brophy, and Fern, weren't anywhere near the chimp's height so we had to wait outside. Meanwhile, Vance, Mervin, and Banister Fruit went inside to find out where we could get some more orange juice to power our sled. They found that the bar had plenty to spare but, it cost a lot more drachmas than we had.

If not for the eagle eyes of Vance we might have been stuck there forever (no teleporting is possible in Berfina). Just before he left the bar, Vance saw a playbill that advertised an event for that very night with a first prize that would more than pay for our gas. It was a dwarf tossing contest.

To say that I was against this idea would be like saying that dead guys are just alittle less active than the living. I wasn't going to be thrown for sport again. I always felt that the sport exploited the dwarf population and could never hold a candle to legitimate sports like my beloved midget wrestling. We didn't have many other options though, so I reluctantly agreed.

We were all allowed in for the show that night regardless of height since we were part of the show. There were six other contestants, none of them looked as nimble as I so I wasn't worried one bit. The announcer came to the microphone and commenced the activities.

The first pair of contestants were a pack mule (thrower) and a Uginian Dwarf (throwee) not generally known for their aerodynamics. The toss was a pitiful three feet and the dwarf got up laughing hysterically. Obviously, he was here for the thrill of competing and knew he didn't have a chance. Either that or he was goofed up on some bad milk.

The next pair were a Mongolian Ripping Sperf and a Wolf Dwarf. I'm not sure that the sperf exactly got the meaning of the competition as he wound up for the throw. In one swift and powerful motion the sperf threw the dwarf straight up. That would be one for the blooper reel because the ceiling was only seven feet high and now had a new ornament on it -a wolf dwarf.

Next came a regular human to heave a Rigin Dwarf. These would be the men to beat with their excellent toss of over eight feet. When the dwarf got up he was acting a bit weird, so I suspected that he was hopped up on milk. That would explain his good score and the way he said, "I is full o milk!" all the time. My midget's intuition was working overtime for that insight.

It was now my turn and my thrower would be Vance. He wasn't all that familiar with the subtleties involved in the dwarf toss but, my experience would make up for that. I was an expert at it before I turned away from it in disgust a few dingbars back -it was getting too damn commercial. Vance took a few practice swings first and soon was ready. I got into my game face and would now become the perfect projectile, a model of aerodynamic efficiency. Vance took hold of me, gave a heave and I was airborne. The spectators rushed by as I flew through the bar to the other end. I landed solidly on my butt a good ten feet from Vance.

The crowd was dumbfounded. They fully expected their favorite, the rigin dwarf, to win and were very disappointed. Someone yelled something about cheating and the crowd started to get ugly. Most of them were already ugly so it wasn't much of a stretch. Vance quickly collected our loot while Mervin got the gas. We headed for the door, but a mob of disgruntled patrons had gathered to block our way.

"Hey, wait a minute! Aren't you a midget? This was a dwarf tossing contest! You should have been disqualified!" said a voice from the crowd.

Vance walked up to the apparent leader, sized him up and said in an unflinching voice, "Moooooo!" The surprised human stepped aside and we got out without a fight. The luck of the gopher was following us. We left, fueled up the sled, and continued on to the center of Northern Berfina where Fern, using her clairvoyant powers, told us Parfoom was being held. Soon we would get to the bottom of this Parfoom business and maybe get closer to the mystery of the parking lots. This was all getting too drawn out for me but, as Vance always says, "You can't make broken eggs without breaking a few eggs!" It didn't make sense to me either.