By J. M. Allison
I pressed one finger to my lips and an ear to the office door. The lackey guide raised an eyebrow. Strained voices drifted from the room beyond.
Heroics always required genius, nerve, and timing.
“But we need the manpower to fight!” argued a female voice.
“If we divert soldiers, we’re all doomed,” a reedy, nasaled voice countered.
Impossible odds. Impending death. Music to my ears. I just needed a good lead in…
“What else are we supposed to do?”
Perfect. I straightened my tailored, dragon-scale jacket and flung open the doors.
“First, you all can take a breath.” I plucked a business card from my inner breast pocket and flung it at the war table at the center of the room. The card sliced through the projected model ridge representing the hills just east of Oswalt City and slid to a stop in front of the mayor. He was a rotund man with greased-back hair and wearing last season’s suit. “And second” –I spread my arms wide and bestowed my award-winning smile–“I will do what I do best: save the day.”
The mayor gaped at me. “What’s the meaning of this? This is a private council meeting! Civilians aren’t allowed in here!”
A curvy blonde stepped up to the table, tablet in hand, and retrieved my card. Probably a junior administrator.
“Spark Spaulding,” she read off my card, “Mechanic, Inventor, Genius—”
“—strategist, and all-around hero extraordinaire,” I finished. “I also do weddings and funerals.” I winked, and a rosy tint spread across her cheeks.
“This is the man you sent for, Mr. Oswalt,” the lackey squeaked.
The mayor glowered, turning beady eyes in my direction, and gave a pouty sniff. His exaggerated manner matched his nasal accent. “They told me you refused to help, claiming you’d never waste—”
I waved a hand. “No need to recount irrelevant details.” I leaned against the war table. “I’m here now.”
“This isn’t your concern, Mr. Spaul—”
“Since a hoard of angry dragons threatens to destroy every poor shmuck living in this city, and since I happen to be one of those, not-so-poor”—I threw another smile toward the beautiful junior administrator—“individuals who lives here, it is my concern.”
Oswalt gave a wheezing growl and folded his arms. “Fine. What’s your solution?”
“For starters, I’d like some of whatever deliciousness you’re having for lunch.” I motioned to the steaming bowl of green soup on a corner table. Never bypass an opportunity for free food, especially while saving someone from their own stupidity. “Then give me a rundown.”
I studied the model. A soft blue light scanned across its surface at regular intervals updating the diagram in real time. Flames engulfed several sections of the outer wall. An enormous black dragon perched atop the ruins. Smaller red and gold dragons hovered over the city in midflight, shifting location with each scan.
“They began attacking just an hour ago. The red and gold dragons are harassing the people, while the black one—”
I held up a finger and pinched the bridge of my nose with the other hand. “I need new details. Anyone with the awareness of a slug could describe what the map shows. Why are they attacking?”
They exchanged glances. The cute junior administrator cleared her throat and stepped forward. “We believe they’re here due to a lapse in the treaty. Someone thought they wouldn’t recognize the substitutions—”
“That hasn’t been confirmed,” muttered Oswalt, his gaze fixed on his shoes.
“A representative approached them, but the black dragon ate him before he could finish introductions.” The girl looked a tad ill at the memory.
“If we don’t fix this, we’re all dead. And that would be… bad.” Oswalt began pacing, hands clasped behind his back.
The lackey handed over a bowl of soup.
“Yes, yes,” I muttered, accepting the steaming broth. “We all agree the death of everyone would be… ‘bad.’ Please stop wasting time with stupid comments. First…” I held up the spoon. “Run to the library and gather the largest tomes. Ornate covers are best. Multiple genres if possible. No telling what he prefers. Present them to the black dragon. If he doesn’t eat you, he’ll accept the books and be on his way.” I scooped a spoonful of the soup into my mouth. The creamy, rich flavor filled my mouth and left a tang I couldn’t identify. “Then, fill a wagon with pastrami. Deliver it there.” I pointed my spoon at an open field depicted on the map, just beyond the city walls. “That should pacify the red dragons.” I looked down into my soup.
“This have pickles?”
“It’s dill pickle soup, so, yes?” offered the lackey.
I dropped the bowl and wiped my hands against my jacket, raking my tongue against my teeth to dislodge the loathsome flavor.
“And the gold dragons?” The attractive administrator stepped close and placed one delicate hand on my arm. “How do we pacify them?” She looked up at me through long black lashes.
“Gold dragons are particular. They want socks. Everyone knows” —I inclined my head, reading her name badge— “Alice, that they prefer left socks. So, best collect them directly from the citizens. Then there’s no mistaking which sock the dragon receives.”
“But aren’t socks universal?” Alice’s brow furrowed.
“Hardly,” I confided. “And dragons become downright nasty if you mix it up.”
Alice nodded, her golden curls bouncing as she scribbled notes on her tablet. “We’ll follow your instructions exactly, Mr. Spaulding. Thank you!”
I beamed. “Then my work here is done.” I turned to a fuming Oswalt. “Shall we discuss my payment? A small parade, modest sum, and perhaps a holiday in my honor, should cover it.”
Oswalt sputtered, several comments unfit for polite company spilling from his lips, before he stormed from the room.
“Pleasure working with you!” I called after him. I grinned and slung one arm around Alice. Save the city. Get the girl. Typical day for Spark Spaulding: Hero Extraordinaire.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“…small parade…” Take it out in ticker tape! Fun story.
Thanks for reading! Yeah, there’s what most people would call small and there’s what Spark would call small….🙂
His nonsense stories about books and pickles and socks, strung-together details culled from the messy office, had fooled everybody. classic Keyser Söze move, Spark.
It’s only nonsense it it doesn’t work! And Spark has no time to involve himself in a plan that doesn’t work. 😉Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!
Loved this! “Aren’t socks universal?” Those lines are a hoot in themselves!
So happy to have brought a smile. Thanks for reading. 🙂
Your imagination is on overtime. I love the story.
Thank you! Story of my life…too many ideas not enough time or paper! ☺️
REALLY funny! A nice (accurate) take on Spark, and a vividly creative one, too. What fun!
So glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading.
Hahahaa so much fun!! I absolutely love the character voice in this!! Bravo!!
Thank you! So glad it brought a smile.
Your wit and creativity in this story made it a pleasure to read.
Thank you for the wonderful compliment. It’s so wonderful to hear that people are enjoying reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.