Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Lights, Camera, Piper!

Staring up at the three-story medieval manor, complete with stained glass windows, jewel-encrusted doorknockers, and statues made of solid gold, it was abundantly clear the Jerkwad family was loaded. Now, to be clear, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk…wad; that was the actual name of the family King Cassian had recommended I visit. After learning that Thomas’ last name was McBuff and having that brief run-in with the ever-handsome and ever-vengeful Lord DripBussin, I was becoming increasingly confused about how these people ever got their stupid-sounding last names.

I swallowed as I approached the front door, swung a lion-shaped ruby knocker, and hoped that the name Jerkwad wasn’t a reflection of the family’s personality. Hopefully, they had a couple of lemons lying around, too.

About a minute passed, and a wizened old butler opened the door. His hair was snow-white, and he had more wrinkles than teeth, but he also had the most majestic beard I’d ever seen. It was so beautiful that it briefly made me jealous that I couldn’t grow my own. I had no idea what this guy’s name was, but I might have been looking at history’s first-ever Jeeves.

Jeeves looked Thomas and me up and down, clearly unimpressed. Oh, by the way, Thomas was here too. Lord DripBussin had threatened to attack the kingdom in an act of vengeance, and I wanted to ensure I had some extra security with me in case things went down.

“And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” Asked Jeeves, his voice refined but raspy, like honey rubbing against sandpaper.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said, bowing and flourishing my witch cape outwards. “I’m Piper, the witch, and this is my guard, Sir Thomas.” Thomas gave a polite bow in response.

“Ah, the witch,” replied the butler, his voice giving no hint as to whether he was pro or anti-witch. “My masters have been expecting you; please, come inside.”

Jeeves opened the door, letting light and warmth pour out from within the manor. Inside, I spotted a roaring fireplace and several suits of armor lining the halls. The manor also smelled utterly delicious; if this meeting went well, maybe the Jerkwads would let me have breakfast here instead of at the castle.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, with a polite nod. “Come, Thomas, let us away.”

Jeeves put up a hand to stop us. “I’m afraid Master Thomas is not allowed on the premises.” said the butler flatly.

“Why not?” I asked, surprised.

“He is of common birth,” Jeeves replied, staring expressionless at Thomas.

I bristled at this rude remark. I spun on my heel to face Thomas, ready to watch him lay into the stuffy butler, but instead of curling his fist in righteous indignation, he stared awkwardly down at his armored shoes. “Yeah, I figured that might be a problem,” he said, kicking absently at a rock by the manor stairs. “Go ahead, Piper; I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” I replied hotly. “We’re a package deal,” I turned back to glare at Jeeves. “Either you let Thomas in with me, or we’re not meeting with the Jerkwads!”

“Well, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance,” said Jeeves, politely slamming the door in our faces.

I blinked in surprise. Huh, that’s not the reaction I’d been hoping for.

“Don’t worry, Piper,” said Thomas, hugging his arm, “you go on in; I seriously don’t mind waiting out here.”

He obviously did mind. “But it’s not fair to leave you out here just cause you’re not a stupid noble.”

He shrugged again. “Maybe, maybe not, but you need those lemons to make electricity magic, right? You can’t afford to offend the only people who can help you.”

Thomas did have a point. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, putting on a tight smile. “My family comes from a long line of merchants; I’m kinda used to being the punching bag of high society.”

Aww, that was so sad. I wrapped Thomas in a hug. He gasped in surprise and tried scrambling away from me. Whoops, being so forward in this time period probably made me look like a woman of ill refute. It certainly didn’t help that I was still showing off a sinful amount of ankle. I think it’d now been three days of wearing the same outfit; I was pretty sure I was beginning to smell like the rest of the people here.

“That was a, uh, witch blessing,” I said lamely, trying to make the situation less awkward.

Thomas turned beet red, clearly more uncomfortable than I was. He didn’t have to worry about me making any witchy advances on him, though. I considered Thomas my friend, but I didn’t like him that way. And I certainly wasn’t going to create a time paradox by marrying and giving birth to a child 1,000 years before I was born. Plus, that’d be stepping on Ellie’s toes; the two of them were practically an unofficial official couple.

“I’m gonna do some push-ups!” Exclaimed Thomas, leaping a couple of yards away and immediately dropping to the ground to start a set. “I’ll see you later!”

I nodded, ashamed at my unintentional harlotry and hoping things wouldn’t be awkward between us moving forward. I knocked on the manor door again, and a moment later, Jeeves popped his wizened head outside. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” he rasped.

“Uh, Piper the witch,” I said, pretty sure he was feigning purposeful ignorance. “Y’know, from thirty seconds ago.”

“Ah, the witch,” replied Jeeves, still acting like this was our first encounter. “My masters have been expecting you; please, come inside.”

XXX

Jeeves led me through a fancy foyer, down a fancy hallway, and into an even fancier dining room where a fancy dinner was in full swing. Imagine the pinnacle of medieval society, and this was probably it. A roaring fireplace, bear rugs, a polished coat of arms hanging over the doorway, and at the end of an immaculately polished oak table, sat the two fanciest-looking upper-crustiest, high society snobs I’d ever had the displeasure of snobbing on. Without them speaking a word, I immediately knew that the family’s title of Jerkwad was well deserved.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wad,” I said, bowing low to the ground, “It is an honor to meet you both in the flesh.”

“Please,” replied Lord Jerkwad, taking a petite bite of food and dabbing his well-groomed mustache with a napkin. “Mr. Wad was my father; you may call me Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk.”

“The third.” Interjected Lady Jerkwad, her massive double chin bouncing up and down like a trampoline.

I paused awkwardly, put off-balance by the high levels of pretentiousness, but managed to continue. “Of course, Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk the Third and Lady Jerk. My name is Piper Gosnell. I am the powerful and ever-gorgeous witch who recently came under the employment of King Cassian.”

“Oh, we’ve heard all about you,” snorted Lady Jerkward, “the kingdom has been all abuzz since you summoned that dragon in the town square.” She gave a refined laugh, hiding her mouth behind a hand. “Using a dragon may be a tad cliche, but I suppose we all have to start somewhere.”

“Indeed,” added Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk, The Third, “And we’ve also heard a rumor that you’ve been concocting special healing potions for the peasants of the kingdom.”

I nodded; he must’ve been referring to Annabelle’s family. I was surprised word had gotten out so quickly.

“Of course,” continued Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, stroking his glorious mustache, “Your efforts could be much better spent in the royal court; it truly is a waste of time helping the poor.”

I was well aware that there were people in the world who were, well, Jerkwads, but it was still shocking to find them in the wild and to hear them talk so disparagingly of other people. If we were in the present, I totally would have tp’d their house, but here and now, I had to keep my grievances to myself; after all, I needed something from these jerks.

I quickly flipped through my mind and recalled a play I’d been a part of last summer, Billiam Bonka and the Carmel Conglomerate. In the production, I’d played an up-and-coming oil tycoon, Maxi Mum Profits the Second. If I was going to make it through this conversation without punching the Jerkwads in their stupid faces, then I’d need to channel my inner jerkwad.

“You’re quite right, m’lord,” I chuckled, my posture slipping into a more jerky slouch. “A couple of poors couldn’t possibly repay the magic I provided them with. Honestly, I should’ve required those peasants to pay me for my services with their firstborn children. That way, I could’ve at least had more free labor for my sweatshops.”

I doubted either Jerkwad knew what a sweatshop was, but we all laughed and guffawed together, clearly happy that we were rich and everyone else was destitute. It must’ve sucked to be a poor loser.

“Anyways, that’s more than enough gaff,” replied Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, chuckling as he wiped a tear from his eyes. “We’re not here to jest; we’re here for business, are we not?”

I nodded, checking my imaginary pocket watch. I only had a few minutes of free time until I had to count my money again. I had better make this quick. “As I’m sure you know, Praedones is in dire straights. I’m concocting a powerful spell to protect the rich and powerful of the kingdom, but am missing a key component.” I paused self-importantly, harrumphing. “If you would provide me with any lemons your family has in its stores, I can guarantee the safety of you, your possessions, and most importantly, your money.”

“Of course we have lemons,” said Lady Jerkwad, not missing a beat, “but what can you give us in exchange?”

“Uhhh.” That threw me off again. Hadn’t I just said I’d protect them and their entire estate? “To clarify,” I said, trying to regain some of my pompous bluster, “these lemons are a small investment with big dividends. A few measly fruits can help ensure your well-being and safety for the coming days.”

“Obviously,” replied Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, wrinkling his nose in irritation. “And my wife already made it clear that we have the lemons you need, but we want to know what’s in it for us.”

“Uhhhhhhh, I’ll be offering you safety and protection from mortal peril,” I repeated, unsure what they were trying to get at.

“Yes,” snapped Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, “But you’ll be protecting the entire kingdom, correct, not just us?”

I nodded.

“Exactly.” Spat Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, sounding like he was speaking to a a very stupid child. “And If we gave you these lemons, that would be considered charity work.”

“Charity work?”

“The Jerkward’s have spent generations accumulating our fortune,” replied Lady Jerkward, fanning herself, “And we’d be darned if we’re the ones to break our family cycle and d-d-d-don…”

It looked like Lady Jerkwad was choking on something. “Donate?” I asked.

Both of them visibly flinched. “Mind you, tongue witch!” Snapped Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third.

Okay, if these two wanted to be jerks, I could play along. “I have a dragon,” I reminded them, no longer trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “If I don’t get those lemons, I’ll summon it right now and have it wreck your entire manor.”

Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third gave a throaty chuckle as if I’d shared another funny joke about poor people. “You certainly could do that,” he replied, “But you said yourself you can only summon the beast a limited number of times. The kingdom could be attacked any day now, and it’d be foolish to waste such a precious resource on a petty spat.”

Crud, he’d called my bluff. The only people I’d mentioned my dragon to were Cassian and the royal council members. I guess it made sense the Jerkwads probably knew and spoke with some, if not all, of the council members. “I’ll tell everyone about what you’re doing,” I said in a final gamble. “The entire kingdom’s future is at stake, and you’re not even willing to lift a finger to help? Consider what everyone will think of you.”

Mrs. Wad stuffed an entire slice of pie into her mouth. It would have been impressive if I hadn’t been so angry. “We don’t care what people think of us as long as we’re richer than them.” She replied, flecks of pie flying across the room.

“So unless you’re the king,” added Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, “We don’t care what you or anyone else think.”

King Cassian, that’s it! “Fine, then I’ll make the king order you to hand over those lemons.” I was serving under King Cassian, so I was sure I could just ask him to seize the lemons by force. Not very nice, but these guys weren’t giving me a ton of options.

“We supply half of the king’s army; he wouldn’t dare upset us,” replied Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third, beginning to look bored. “Are we done yet?”

I scoffed in irritation, countered yet again by old money. If King Cassian couldn’t get me the lemons, what else could I try? Unfortunately, no brilliant epiphanies were immediately coming to mind.

“You guys are jerks!” I finally blurted out.

“We know.” They said in unison.

XXX

“I just can’t believe they were such jerks!” I shouted, slamming my fist into the mess hall table.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well, to be fair,” replied Thomas, tactfully moving his lumpy porridge away from my raging fists, “it’s kind of in their name.”

After leaving the Jerkwad estate, lemonless and steaming with righteous fury, I’d met Thomas outside, who impressively was still doing pushups, and we headed back to the mess hall. I was starving and needed something to eat while I concocted my revenge. Tonight’s meal was lumpy porridge with a slice of stale bread, a Praedonian classic.

“I just don’t get it,” I continued, tracing my finger through the lines of the wooden table, “You guys could get attacked by an enemy kingdom at any moment, and the Jerkwads don’t care unless they profit from it. Are they selfish or just insane?”

“You could always wait until the spring,” offered Thomas helpfully, “I’m sure there will be some lemons come harvest time that the king will let you have.”

I shook my head. Waiting until spring might be easier, but that was more than half a year away. Not only was I impatient, but I seriously doubted any would-be conquerors would put their war plans on hold for the next six months while they waited for me to go home, even if I asked super nicely.

Of course, Thomas couldn’t know I was planning on ditching everyone and returning to my own time, so I just said, “It’s really important that I get those lemons as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“I need them to help protect the kingdom.” My stomach lurched as soon as I said the words. I didn’t enjoy lying, especially to Thomas, but what was I supposed to say? Sorry, you’re all gonna die; see ya later! I felt bad about ditching the Praedonians and leaving them to their fate, but if this was the course of history, I shouldn’t interfere, right? Didn’t you wanna teach Thomas how to make medicine? My inner voice asked. I gritted my teeth, aware of my hypocrisy, but choosing to ignore it.

“Maybe I should just try and steal the lemons,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back toward the here and now.

Now, it was Thomas’ turn to shake his head. “Not a chance; if we were caught breaking into a noble’s mansion, they’d kill us for sure.”

“I’m the king’s royal witch; they can’t kill me,” I said playfully, shoving him, “worst case scenario, you’d be the only one dying.”

Thomas bolted upright, his face turning crimson. “Y’know,” he said, voice deepening as he puffed out his chest. “Now’s the perfect time for some pull-ups. First to 1,000 wins!” Thomas leaped several feet into the air and latched onto a wooden ceiling beam. He proceeded to rapidly do pull-ups while giving manly grunts of exertion.

I rolled my eyes. Thomas was being machismo again, that could only mean–

“Is there room for one more?” Ellie strolled up to our table, a gentle smile on her face.

“Perfect timing,” I smirked, waving at Ellie to take a seat, “I was just thinking that Thomas was acting a bit too normal.”

“57, 58, 59,” panted Thomas, his arms nearly a blur as he went up and down on the wooden beam.

Ellie sat across from me; she placed a bread bowl filled with lumpy porridge onto the table. “Don’t you ever get tired of eating this stuff?” I asked, motioning to my porridge.

“We usually eat much better than this,” admitted Ellie, “but we’ve had difficulty acquiring more food since the blockade started.”

That was the third time someone had mentioned a blockade. “Is there any particular group that’s out to get you?” I asked, wondering if the blockade was compromised solely by Princess Melanie’s jaded suitors.

“Not really,” replied Ellie, taking a bite of the porridge, “our kingdom’s just in a very unfortunate location.”

I nodded; King Cassian had said the same thing. All the more reason why I needed to get the heck outta dodge. I sniffed the air; it suddenly reeked of alcohol and not the watered-down kind they were serving in the mess hall. Was that coming from Ellie? “Have you been drinking?” I asked, looking Ellie up and down, surprised, as she seemed like the type who’d never touched a bottle in her life.

Ellie smirked, “No more than usual.” She whispered, leaning in so Thomas couldn’t hear.

Huh, weird, but anyways. “Are you familiar with the Jerkwads?” I asked, remembering Ellie was a duchess and probably the most qualified one here to deal with nobility.

“Oh, the Jerkwads,” she said unenthused. “Well, they’re certainly one of the more…opinionated noble families in the kingdom.

“You can’t stand them, can you?”

“Piper, they’re the worst.” Sighed Ellie, looking exasperated. “Last year, they called my mother a peasant because her pearl necklace only had fourteen pearls.”

I nodded; from my brief and unpleasant meeting with the Jerkwads, that didn’t surprise me. Still, though, I needed those lemons.

“I met with the family earlier,” I said, looking out one of the mess hall windows toward their impressive-looking manor, “I told them I needed lemons for a potion I’m making, but they weren’t interested in sharing.”

“What did you offer them in return?” Asked Ellie.

“To protect their greedy butts whenever an enemy kingdom tries to invade,” I replied bitterly.

Ellie shook her head. “Nobles don’t think the same way everyone else does, Piper. If we don’t benefit directly from something, we don’t typically care to help.”

I groaned in annoyance. People never changed, did they? “What do you think they want? Could I ask King Cassian to give them some gold?”

“They’ve already got gold, Piper, lots of it. And if they want anything in the kingdom, they could probably purchase it themselves.”

I suddenly remembered my incredibly rich uncle who was impossible to buy Christmas gifts for. I always had to make some kind of handcrafted present for him because he could just buy anything that struck his fancy. Although I doubted the Jerkwads would be interested in receiving a homemade Christmas card in exchange for their lemons.

“I imagine you’re probably the only person in the kingdom with stuff the Jerkwads can’t simply buy.”

Ellie’s voice jerked me out of my pondering. “Huh?”

“To be perfectly blunt, we don’t exactly have a lot of witches around here.” explained Ellie, “Maybe you can give them some kind of potion or magical artifact.”

Ellie might have a point. I thought back to my backpack full of stuff and wondered what the Jerkwads might be interested in. Poofy Pants had thought my Spanish textbook was a magical grimoire, so maybe I could trade that for the lemons, and I’d never have to see that stupid book again. However, on the off chance they or someone in their family knew Spanish, it might reveal that I was a fake.

I rubbed my hands together as I thought. “I’ve got lots of stuff, but I don’t think it’d be wise to trade any of it.” After all, what if I needed it later to get back home?

“Maybe you could teach them some magic.” Offered Thomas, breathing coming in ragged gasps.

I jumped. I’d been so engrossed in my conversation with Ellie that I’d nearly forgotten Thomas was there. Impressively, he was still doing pull-ups, albeit he was drenched in sweat, his breathing sounding like a dying motorboat.

“You think I should teach them magic?”

Thomas wheezed in what I believed was an affirmative.

That could work, but I’d probably messed up the course of history enough already by teaching Thomas and the Smith family about disinfectants. Was it a good idea to share that kind of information with even more people?

Ellie must have seen the concerned look on my face. “How about instead of sharing your magic, you share one of your stories?”

“Stories?”

Ellie nodded, leaning towards me, eyes glittering with naked curiosity. “Being a witch, I’m sure you’ve been on all kinds of adventures and seen things the rest of us can’t even imagine. What if you told the jerkwads about some of those experiences or acted them out?”

Acting? My ears perked up, and my mind started racing. What if I acted out what the future was like and passed it off as some mystical land or realm I’d encountered in my witchy travels? It was tempting, but it ran into the same problem as showing off modern technology. If I acted out a play that involved airplanes, cell phones, or pepperoni pizzas, these stories might get passed down through the generations and cause those things to be invented sooner than they were supposed to.

Although, if I wanted to be morbid, it was looking more and more likely that Praedones was about to get wiped off the map, so would it matter what information I shared if everyone ended up dead? But still, did I want to take that kind of risk, even if it allowed me to partake in my beloved art of acting?

I wanted to smack myself; the answer was so obvious. I didn’t have to act out anything real, or that would spoil the future; I could just act out a play. And since I was smack dab in the middle of medieval times, the performance that would probably be the least spoilery or screw over the future would be Hamlet.

“I need to meet with the Jerkwads again,” I said, quickly shoveling the rest of the lumpy porridge I’d been eating into my mouth. It was bland and chunky, but thankfully, a few maggots had crawled inside during my conversation, so I got a bit of extra flavor on that last bite.

I rushed out of the mess hall, glancing back to see if Thomas was gonna make a move now that he and Ellie were alone. Surprisingly, Ellie took the initiative.

“Well, since it’s just the two of us now,” yawned Ellie, casually stretching and trying to reach for Thomas.

“Gotta run laps!” Yelled Thomas, dropping down from the rafters and sprinting past me out of the mess hall.

Ellie and I sighed in unison. Good luck with that one girl; you’re gonna need it.

XXX

“Let me make sure I understand,” said Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third. “You want us to trade our precious lemons in exchange for a story?”

By the time I’d arrived back at Jerkwad Manor, Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third and Lady Wad had finished their meal and had retreated to their living room to count their gold coins. They were still being just as jerky as before, but this time, I had a plan.

“Not just a story,” I replied, grinning and flourishing my cape. “I’ll be providing you with legendary tales of my heroic exploits and adventures that no mortal man or woman has ever heard before.”

Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third and Lady Wad shared a look. “What do you think, dear?” asked Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third.

Lady Wad shrugged, causing her entire body to ripple. “Frankly, I could use some entertainment; this is the fourth time this week we’ve counted our money.

Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third nodded thoughtfully at his wife’s words. “Very well, witch,” he said, turning back to me, “If you provide my wife and I with ample entertainment, then the lemons are yours. Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third clapped his hands and stared at me expectantly. “You may start telling your stories now.”

“Oh, I’ll do you one better than just telling,” I replied, a genuine grin breaking across my face, “I’ll show you.”

XXX

I peeked out behind the curtain and looked down at the town square; it seemed like the entire kingdom had shown up. The hundreds of seats we’d set out had already been filled over an hour ago, and hundreds of other Praedonians who’d arrived later were standing and waiting. From the buzzing of the crowd, it was clear that a lot of people were excited, and I could understand why, it wasn’t every day you got to see a witch perform musical theater.

“Is it time to start?” Thomas walked over and joined me, peeking out at the crowd.

“Almost,” I replied, shaking with excitement. “You remember what we rehearsed?”

Thomas fired off a crisp salute and held up my phone almost reverently. “Of course! I’ve memorized the exact order you want me to cast the spells.”

“It’s called a playlist,” I replied automatically.

Thomas stared down at my phone in wonder. “Playlist magic,” he said, awed, “I’ve never heard of that before.” Me and my big mouth.

I squinted up at the sun. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was just about to fall behind the castle walls, leaving the town square in near darkness. I briefly recalled doing the same thing when rescuing Princess Melanie from those assassins. I guess technology just worked better in the dark.

After the Jerkwads had agreed to a show, I’d become a little obsessed with putting on the best theater performance possible. Thomas and I had spent the past couple of days working on putting together a stage, and honestly, I was pretty proud of our work. Sure, maybe I could’ve spent my time more productively and tried to figure out a way to get home, but I was dying for the chance to act again, and it’d been ages since I’d had such a large audience.

“30 seconds!” I called out, pulling out a small mirror shard and ensuring my cape and makeup were on properly. Everything looked good to go.

Thomas reached for a pulley, preparing to part the curtain and signal the start of the performance. “Good luck, Piper,” he called out, flashing me a thumbs up.

I grinned, returning the gesture. “Thanks, Thomas. Hope you enjoy the show!”

The curtains parted, and the entire square went quiet as I strode across the stage and stared at the sea of faces. “Good evening, ladies and gents,” I called out, my voice ringing through the quiet square. “My name is Piper. I’m a witch, and tonight, I have a very special story to share with you all.”

I heard hundreds of voices gasp in surprise as two-stage lights flickered to life and basked me in a warm purple glow. Oh yeah, I had stage lights, or at least the medieval equivalent. I might struggle to create disinfectant or make electricity, but I knew how to slap together all sorts of theater stuff, and I’d made plenty of homemade stage lights in my time. All I’d had to do was find a metal cylinder, fit the top with colored glass, and shine my flashlight through it to create the intended ambiance. It might not be Broadway levels of bright, but it was pretty and helped set the mood. Plus, stage lights weren’t that futurey, at least that’s the excuse I told myself.

I gave a slight nod of thanks to Ellie, who had been kind enough to woman the stage lights for me, and scanned the audience one last time. A lot of people were still spooked by the sudden appearance of the colored lights, but I definitely had the attention of everyone in the front row. Seated a few feet from the stage, on posh leather benches were King Cassian, Princess Melanie, Poofy Pants, and, of course, the Jerkwads.

Well maybe had their attention wasn’t the correct expression. Princess Melanie and Poofy Pants weren’t even looking at me; they had their arms crossed and stared off to the side in quiet defiance. No surprises there, I suspect King Cassian might have forced them both to attend. Cassian was nodding off to sleep, the silence punctuated by his deep snores. I know the guy worked a stressful job, but c’mon, the show hadn’t even started yet! As for the Jerkwads, they were busy throwing coins at the peasants in attendance, chuckling as the metal coins smacked people in their heads. I hoped they’d start paying attention once the performance properly started. This show was for them, after all.

“In my travels across the realm,” I continued, stepping towards the edge of the stage and sweeping my gaze across the audience, “I’ve witnessed many strange and wonderful things. Things that bring indescribable joy, things that cause grown men to weep, things that defy description!” I let my words hang in the air. Not a single sound was heard save for King Cassian’s snoring.

“On one of my most recent adventures,” I continued, “I came across a kingdom of pigs. Pigs that spoke and walked on two feet, just like you and I.”

That got a reaction out of the crowd, and I was hit a moment later by a wave of whispering and confused muttering. “These pigs laughed, they cried, they hated, and they loved,” I said, pausing after every other word to add emphasis. “This is the story of a prince, a pig prince who had big dreams, and the pig princess who loved him deeply. This is the tale of Hamlet.”

The sound of a stringed orchestra began to play in the center of the crowd, Ode to Hamlet Act 1, Scene 1. Several audience members freaked upon hearing the music that seemingly came from nowhere, scrambling out of their seats and shouting in alarm. Maybe I should’ve warned them I’d put my Bluetooth speaker in the middle of the crowd. Oh well, no sense worrying about it now.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of excitement in my chest as I prepared to perform. While I was here onstage, I wasn’t stuck in the past; I wasn’t surviving on a diet of lumpy oatmeal, and there certainly weren’t any evil assassins attempting to kidnap any princess’ and/or murder me. Right now I was just a girl with a story to tell. Correction: I was still a girl, but now I was also a four-foot-tall bipedal pig woman. I was Princess Hamela.

It was early spring at Castle Porkrind, which meant the Forget-Me-Nots would be starting to bloom. Those were Hamela’s favorite flowers; she loved picking them in the morning before going to the castle library to study. I wondered if Rome-Bovine would be at the castle today; my heart skipped a beat as I thought of my beloved; I wondered if he thought of me as much as I thought of him.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a field of beautiful flowers. My white dress fluttered in the gentle morning breeze, and I lifted a cloven hand to push back my flowing hair. “Oh doth flowers true in fields of green,” I began, lifting one of the flowers up to my snout, “the butcher shop is awfully mean. I hope my prince returns safe and true; else, like these flowers, I’ll be blue.”

And for the next two hours, I acted my heart out. I was Princess Hamela, and she was me. Granted, it got a little awkward when I had to act out every other character in the play, especially when I performed the kissing scene, but I think I did a solid enough job.

After what felt like ages but also no time at all, I made it to the finale. I cradled my beloved in my arms, weeping softly as Rome-Bovine’s unmoving body slowly turned cold. Rome-Bovine had died so that I could live, but what was the point of being here, of even going on, if my prince wasn’t still by my side?

“If bacon be the food of love,” I uttered, barely able to stop myself from breaking into an uncontrollable sob, “give me excess of it. The appetite may sicken, and so die. That grease again! That breathes upon a bank of pork rinds, stealing and giving indigestion.”

With one final anguished shriek, I bowed my head and closed my eyes, resting on the still chest of my prince, of the pig who could no longer comfort me. “Goodbye Rome-Bovine, and goodbye world. I can never eat bacon again, now that I know it’s made of you.”

“End scene,” I whispered as I stood and opened my eyes, seeing that I was now back at the castle. Well, to clarify the non-pig castle, castle Praedones. I was exhausted beyond belief, having never had to act out an entire play by myself. I hope everyone enjoyed the performance.

My ears were suddenly assaulted by the sound of hundreds of runny noses, and looking out into the crowd, I saw that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, was a sniveling mess of tears and mucus. Oh, the snot was everywhere, flowing out their noses like fire hydrants. Yeah, I know it sounds disgusting, but when you’re acting out a tragedy, this was the intended effect.

The next moment, the audience was on their feet, cheering and applauding. I grinned. For a second, it felt like I was back home performing for a group of my friends and peers, save for the smell of poop that constantly permeated the air, as well as all the unwashed, snotty peasants.

“This performance was only made possible by the utter jerkiness of the Jerkwad family,” I said, smiling as I pointed down at the front row. Lord Tiberius Constantine Waddicus of House Jerk The Third and Mrs. Wad were just as devastated as everyone else in the crowd; they were dabbing their eyes with gold-encrusted handkerchiefs as the tears flowed like wine. “Mr. and Mrs. Wad,” I boomed, “I think I speak for everyone here when I say that you’re both a bunch of jerks!”

“We know!” They sobbed as they loudly blew their noses.