HUMDINGER LITERARY E-ZINE JUNE 2006
Enjoy Sir Rodney’s Adventures from
Thomas E. Jordon!
The Adventures of Rodney
By Thomas E. Jordon
“Oh, by Pope Carl’s hairy left nostril!” Sir Rodney spat when he looked down thirty feet between his toes and saw the troll under him. The foul creature had walked up, tilted its head back and now stood there with its mouth open. Rodney could hear his father’s whiney voice, “You can’t blame him, Son. He’s only there for lunch.”
Rodney, standing in the blood-stopping loop he had tied in a creaking rope no more a size around than his pinkie, was starting to question his judgment. But there, just five feet away from where he hung, in the mouth of a cave magically drilled into the cliff face, stood what was undoubtedly one of the ten most beautiful women in the world.
“My, Lady!” Rodney called across the way. “Ask me your question.”
The fair maiden leaned against the wall of the cave and pulled her long blonde hair back from her face revealing milky white perfect skin, pale pink lips and huge gold doeish eyes. He thought for a moment that her smile didn’t quite look right, but then Rodney reminded himself that he had other things on his mind as well.
She giggled, then blew a puff of air toward him.
The shattered stump of the once-proud oak that Rodney had thrown the other end of his rope around made itself a little more comfortable in the ground. “Your question, My Lady,” Rodney called again as he wondered if his present arrangement was up to the next part of his plan.
“Oh.” She made to go back into the cave, then stopped and smiled vacantly at him. “What starts on three, goes to seven and ends with one?”
“Three, seven, one,” Rodney said.
“Three, seven, one,” she childishly sang back to him.
It was at that moment, as the rope slipped dropping him a quarter of the span of an angel’s wings, that Rodney figured there came a point when one could carry that "faint heart never won fair lady" thing just a little too far.
© Copyright Thomas E. Jordon
Click here to read Thomas E. Jordon’s Brief Bio.
Sometimes
By Thomas E. Jordon
"By the Apostle John's shriveled left testicle," Sir Rodney groaned as his lance buried deeply into the vestigial-winged dragon without encountering a single vital region. Before he could withdraw the harpoon, the dragon ripped its serrated tail across his horse's belly. Immediately, the stout-hearted mount snorted blood and began sinking to the ground.
Rolling free of the doomed animal, Rodney drew his sword. He felt bad about the charger. Despite its irrational fear of scarecrows flapping in the wind, it had been a loyal and steadfast companion.
Rodney lowered himself into a fighting stance and began swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. With the flat of his sword, he swiped aside one of the creature's clawed feet. Moving in on the nightmarish reptile, Rodney noticed Sir John's shield with its fighting dachshund emblem beside the entrance to the beast's lair. Poor Sir John, Rodney thought.
He recalled their last encounter. John had bought most of the tankards that passed between them and before parting company, shared one last bit of advice. "Always remember, Rodney, sometimes the dragon wins."
© Copyright 2005, Thomas E. Jordon
To read Thomas E. Jordon's Brief Bio, click here.
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