By Justin Mynheir
“This is quite a pickle. Isn’t it, dear?” Dave leaned against the inside of the rusted cage.
Down the cliffside, across an amphitheater of ancient stone ruins claimed by jungle growth, suspended over a bubbling pool of lava, Karen fidgeted in her rope bindings. “You think?!”
“I think plenty, but even my brain has its flaws. How could I have known that some sentient radishes survived the journey from Anatolia to India and two millennia on their own?” Dave pressed his face against the brittle bars. “Besides, we desperately needed a romantic getaway after the pet rock incident. You said so yourself.”
“Death is far from romantic.”
They had walked three days into the jungle, following a map bought from an Armenian magician skilled in making fish dance. A pitfall trap hidden under leaves had been their undoing, and the radishes, somehow still alive after such a long time, dragged them here to be sacrifices to the…
“Excuse me.” Dave spun around to the jungle side of his cage where a bulbous radish stood guard. “What do you call your deity again?”
The radish rolled an inch on the ground, maybe looking at him, maybe away. The vegetable bore no eyes, so it was hard to tell. The thick, lettuce-like leaves mimicking hair rustled, and it answered in a deep, ethereal voice, “We serve the bleeding mouth of hell, the thousand demons of Lahsor, and the one that sleeps under—”
“Okay, great!” Dave’s cage sat unsecured on the edge of the precipice overlooking the sacrificial arena. He leaned against the bars, an idea forming. “Karen, would you like to leave? He mentioned something about demons.”
“Yes.” She looked up at her bindings, which were wrapped around the stone hand of a colossal ape statue. “The lava is rising, and they took my pocket knife!”
“So…” Dave pushed against the cage, and it moved an inch. “…what you are saying is…” The cramped prison moved a foot on his next try, hanging over the steep drop. “You need a hero!”
“Yeah. That. Sure. Does Kevin know where we are?”
Dave leaned forward, and the cage plummeted. The old iron bars slammed into stone. He followed a millisecond later with a squeak and lay on the ground, a large portion of his body bruised by the impact. He barely managed a smile. A good attitude improved every situation. Perspective!
The cage creaked, and Dave looked up. The metal door broke from its rusted hinges and slammed onto his head.
The blurry world spun like a top. Dave’s head finally settled, and he rubbed a swelling lump on his forehead. Karen screamed unintelligible phrases he likely deserved. Following the sounds, he pulled himself out of the cage. His mouth tasted funny, and somewhere close by, he smelled soup.
“I seem to have escaped. Would you like some help?” Dave stood atop the cage and blinked twice, having addressed the cliff, not his wife. “Whoops.”
“Are you okay?” Karen’s voice cracked. “Because if you survived that stupid stunt, I’m going to kill you for trying it!”
Her tone, plus the hundred or so radishes sitting about the amphitheater in clay pots, did not bode well. Dave stepped off the cage and checked the amount of dirt on his adventuring clothes. Karen would never do his laundry after this. He might survive longer if he hid the household supply of cyanide too. He could always hope.
The sun dropped to the orange glow of evening and stared Dave in the face as he stumbled through the crowd of root vegetables. “I think I am quite tired of this vacation. Can we visit the Florida Keys next? Or perhaps Bermuda? No, never mind the last one.”
“Honey, I don’t care! Just get me out of this.” Karen wiggled. Her frightful spasms caused her to sway from side to side.
Dave headed for the edge of the open crater. The lava within bubbled to no end like nacho cheese gone horribly wrong, or one of his prior experiments involving enchanting weaponry during the forging process— a bad idea if the enchanter wasn’t a dwarf. He took another step forward, and his foot hit something. He looked down at another red radish, this one more bulbous than his prison guard.
The lava rose slowly.
“You dare tread on our sacred lands?” The radish rolled towards him. “I am the high priest of this gate to Lahsor. We have every right to sacrifice a couple of tourists.”
“We are not tourists. We wished to appreciate the remnants of a dead civilization before we discovered the unfortunate reality that it still exists. Like jazz.” Dave scratched the back of his head. His distorted vision kept forming two radish high priests.
“What have you learned of our culture, then, two-legged swine?”
“You are terrible at entertaining guests,” Dave replied. “Now, I must play the hero for my dear Karen.”
“You think I will let you pass? Bah! It will take more than your feeble strength to defeat me.” The radish rolled against his shoe, apparently attacking.
Dave picked up the vegetable, took a bite, and threw the rest into the natural cauldron of lava. He gagged at a taste suspiciously similar to curdled unicorn milk and spit the pieces onto the dirty ruins. He flicked a chunk of high priest off his lip.
The other radishes cried out in shock.
“He unseated the high priest,” one screamed.
“We are free,” another shouted with glee. The assembled radishes rustled their leaves in excitement.
“Oh yes, I am your hero. Do not be afraid to applaud me.” Dave waved to his newest fans. A huge smile crept across his face as he absorbed the praise of an ancient race. “I am amazing.”
“Dave—” His wife’s voice balanced frustration and patience on a razor thin line. “—does sleeping alone for the rest of your life seem that fun?”
“Right. Coming, darling!”
Can you guess which song from the 1980's inspired this story? Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This had me laughing all the way through. My only guess is “Holding out for a Hero”?
You’re correct! If you’re a member of the Havok Horde, you’ll be automatically entered into a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card at the end of the month.
I was scared nobody would guess it, but you got it on the first try!
Brilliant. I love all the references to the other story.
Thanks! I tried to tuck one or two in there without being overbearing.
Now I have to go look up the other story!
I couldn’t help but have Veggie Tales in my mind. Thanks for the laugh.
Nice, I like the rather edged banter between the ‘hero’ and his wife.
That was one of the past oddest adventure stories i think I’ve ever read. But very enjoyable!