Once upon a time, there lived Baron de la Trine. He lived in a castle, and owned a priceless treasure – a golden decanter. The Baron was young and handsome (which does not mean he had some hands), but he drank to excess. Every day the wine fumes from his castle assailed a village nearby, so his peasants were unable to work.
One night, while the Baron slept halfway between the wine cellar and the bedchamber, Nincompoopus came and stole his decanter! Nincompoopus was an evil necromancer, and lived in a castle too.
Having sobered up and found his treasure gone, Baron de la Trine decided to gather his army, but… all his knights lay in the courtyard, forming a jumbled wine-reeking heap. Opening hostilities against Nincompoopus was out of the question.
“[CENSORED]!” the Baron gnashed his teeth, “Goddamneous boozacholics! Well, well, well… I think I’ll have to rescue my vessel all by myself!”
So he mounted his knock-kneed steed, shouted “Come on, Pumpkinocephalus!” and started off for Nincompoopus’ abode.
Soon the Baron lost his way in a dense forest and came across a swamp. The heady stench of methane assailed him, so he nearly toppled from Pumpkinocephalus. The Baron spotted sumpthing… sorry, I mean, something on a hassock. It was an obligatory fairy-tale spellbound frog with a cigarette between her teeth.
“Ribbit! Ribbit!” the frog croaked out. “Got a light?”
“Of course”, the Baron struck a match, the methane exploded and our hero was hurled upwards and across the forest. He landed on a twisted road, robbed of his sword and horse.
On a hill stood the disreputable Beer Cavity tavern. Its door was always open, so that the visitors would not suffocate. Every night the tavern emitted the smell of ale, attracting the local juvenile delinquents.
Meantime the local physiologist named Jim dropped in on The Beer Cavity in order to throw some beer with a varnish chaser into his beer-dependent system. Swilling the divine beverage, he looked askance at a freshly killed wolf lying at his feet with the view to do an autopsy on the animal – Jim was an enthusiastic hinter. He had no sooner finished his liver-destructive repast when the Baron shambled in. Jim dropped on his knees, saying, “Please, have mercy on me, Your Latrinity!”
Many years ago, the Baron had ordered Jim to be beheaded for some reason, but the latter had fled just before the execution.
“Stop playing the fool and get up, you [CENSORED]!” the Baron said gently. “Do you know where that [CENSORED] Nincompoopus lives? Tell me now! His castle ought to be nearby, oughtn’t it? Tell me now or I’ll perform an autopsy on you!”
“O Your Latrinity! Don’t kill me please! I will help you! I’ve got an armoury under my house!...”
The Baron de la Trine and Jim slipped on uniforms and infrared visors, crammed ammunition into their kitbags, grabbed semiautomatic crossbows and crept towards Nincompoopus’ castle. They stumbled upon a “Danger! Mine field!” sign. Of course, the sign was a fake one, as there were no mines there. So they crept onward and across the “mine field”. At last, the task force heroes found themselves before the castle.
Suddenly, a fire-breathing dragon appeared and swooped down on them. The dragon suffered from heartburn and belched fire at anyone who stood in his way.
“Wait a minute, pal!” Jim shouted to the dragon. “You’ve got heartburn, don’t you?”
He threw a barrel of antacid to the dragon. The dragon swallowed it and his heartburn was soothed straight away.”
“It was very nice of you, stranger!” the dragon said. “I don’t know how to thank you…”
“Just get us that [CENSORED] Nincompoopus!”
The dragon fetched them his master. The Baron and Jim began to tickle Nincompoopus, he split his sides laughing, his intestines fell out, and he kicked the bucket. Sad, eh?
The Baron de la Trine returned home with flying colours and the gleaming decanter. Jim was rewarded with a bag of gold and was on a binge for a solid week. To make a long story short, the Baron gave up drinking and lived happily ever after.
1998