Sir Fartsalot Hunts the Booger by Kevin Bolger

Sir Fartsalot Hunts the Booger by Kevin Bolger

Author:Kevin Bolger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2010-03-01T00:00:00+00:00


17

But time passed, and when at last the ogre chef was ready to light the pile of kindling at Harry’s feet, the two knights still had not puzzled a way out.

“Don’t worry now, Yer ’ighness,” the ogre said, choosing a flaming branch from the fire under Sir Fartsalot. “You won’t feel a thing—apart from the unbearable searing pain, that is. Heh heh heh.

“Oh, you might want to scream a little,” the ogre added as an afterthought. “It won’t do you no good, of course. But we ogres like to ’ear our entrees suffer.”

“Harm a hair on that boy’s head,” Sir Fartsalot warned, “and I shall dispatch you straight to Heck!”

“Oh, yeah? You and wot army?” the ogre scoffed, and gave the old knight a stir with his spoon.

“Why, I’ll—” Sir Cedric began, but he trailed off, unable to think of any threat he was in a position to make good on. “I hope you choke on me!” was the best he could come up with.

The ogre set flame to a tiny twig at the end of one of the skinniest sticks at Harry’s feet. The prince held his breath as he watched it catch, then burn out, then catch again. The ogre chuckled. He was toying with Harry, drawing out his terror for his own amusement.

“Well, Sir Cedric, it would seem that here ends our final crusade,” Sir Fartsalot eulogized. “My only regret is that I failed the prince.”

“And mine, Sir Fartsalot,” Sir Cedric replied. “Adieu, old friend.”

Then, a bloodcurdling scream split the air.

“Oooooooooooooooooo!”

An icy chill passed through the hearts of ogre and knight alike.

The ogre chef scrambled about in panic.

“No . . . no . . . ” he trembled. “It c-c-can’t be!”

“Ooooooo, Sir Fartsalot!” the voice repeated. “You look so dashing in that pot!”

That’s right, it was one of the princesses.

Suddenly, all was a blizzard of taffeta and lace and twinkling tiaras, as an ambush of princesses descended on the ogre camp! Gowns flapped in fury. High-heels kicked viciously. Fists flew in a flash of sparkling rings.

In truth, the ogres put up little fight. The poor creatures were paralyzed with terror from the moment the first embroidered bodice appeared. Within minutes, the rout was complete, and there was nothing left for the pugilistic princesses to do but make sport of the vanquished by pulling off their hats, and yanking their tender ears, and lashing them to trees with their own skipping ropes.

But they soon abandoned these warlike pursuits to fall all over one another rescuing Sir Fartsalot and Sir Cedric. They untied the knights and helped them out from the iron pots. Then they pushed and shoved for a chance to mop the knights’ faces with their veils.

Gwendolyn and Daisy appeared. The dragon patted out the fire around Harry’s ankles with its tail while Gwendolyn untied him.

“Captured by mere ogres,” Gwendolyn said, shaking her head. “You princes can be so helpless sometimes.”

Her sisters had made up their minds that it would be terribly romantic for Sir Fartsalot and Sir Cedric to return with them to the castle.



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