The Great Taco Disappearance

The Great Taco Disappearance

Rain splattered every inch of dirt across the fair lands of Kemenbar, leaving muddy puddles every few feet or so. The Queen of those fair lands had never been happier. She spent hours upon hours hopping from one puddle to the next; as if the dry spots between were rivers of boiling lava. She refused to touch them even once. Her Royal Boots were caked with globs of runny mud.

It was going to be a great day. There were puddles to jump in. All the castle servants were taking a short break from their regular duties to prepare for the massive taco party planned for that night. And, best of all, King Nate was safe in the castle, eating a heaping bowl of Macaroni and Cheese to stretch out his stomach in preparation for the night’s activities. Unknown to her, King Nate wasn’t safe. He was very much in danger. And the king sitting in King Nate’s throne eating his Macaroni and Cheese was the reason.

Mel’s plan had worked perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that for a week he had been blending in and no one seemed to notice. The confusion with the bacon had worked perfectly. Not only had he gotten the Queen away from King Nate long enough to magically abduct and imprison him, but he also managed to get a plate of bacon out of the deal. Mel shivered, unsure of this new feeling in his gut. Perhaps it was guilt from placing his good twin into a dungeon to rot, or maybe it was excitement at seeing his twin’s spirit broken in the near future.

Mel preferred the latter. It wasn’t good for evil twins to find themselves sympathetic. That was not something he wanted to experience. He had heard

stories of other evil twins going so far as to join forces with their good twins, or even (in some extreme cases) lose the desire for diabolical deeds altogether.

He stabbed another noodle with his fork, took a breath and plunged the unfortunate, cheese-drenched macaroni into his mouth. He fought the impulse to bounce and hum, while chewing something that delicious, but then he remembered that it was an impulse he and Nate shared so he hummed to his heart’s content.

Actually, the success of this latest plan had surprised even him. He had expected Queen Meg to pose more of a problem, but she hadn’t shown any suspicion. Mel figured that the looming promise of tacos was distracting her. As devoted as she was to King Nate, there is only so much attention one can hold when tacos are on the menu.

Still, Mel wasn’t ready to relax. He had a few hours left to evade her suspicion before he could accomplish what he came for. It wasn’t enough to break Nate’s spirit; he had to break Meg’s too. Wasn’t that the purpose of evil twins, after all?

Mel lounged in the royal throne, deep in thought, absentmindedly scooping noodles into his mouth. He was sitting just the same way, when Queen Meg finally bounded into the throne room. Snapped out of his daze by the sound of her squeaking boots, he sat up. Queen Meg grinned at him. “Hi Nate. How’s your macaroni?”

“Oh. It’s very good. Yes, very good.” Mel tried to ignore the muddy puddle her boots left as they dripped onto the floor. Soon, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Ronny, the green chicken strutted between them, looking exceedingly self-important. Mel couldn’t help but let some disgust sneak into his face. He despised chickens. Especially, arrogant, uptight chickens. He denied the irresistible cuteness of a chicken who thinks himself important, that others seemed to suggest. Meg must have caught his strange look, because she became suspicious. Nate had never shown any aversion to Ronny. Before she could say anything, an armadillo marched into the room with something extremely important to tell her.

“Travis!” Meg shouted, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.” She scooped him up in her arms. She noticed the scent of strawberries on his breath, and the red juice dripping off his chin.

“Eating strawberries, huh?”

Travis nodded frantically, then chattered in his armadillian language. Meg leaned closer to hear what he said. She was a fluent speaker of armadillian, as are most queens of mythical kingdoms. It’s a requirement. Some might think it to be a silly requirement until you realize just how common armadillo advisors are. Known for their great wisdom, armadillos are usually captured in the wild and held in small cages, given closely-printed words to read, and strawberries to eat if they give their opinion on matters of national security.

Early generations of captive armadillos fought against their captivity and a few managed to escape only to write books on the subject, get filthy rich, and move to some private island where they experimented with strawberry trees. No one bothered to explain that strawberries already grow on their own. It was too huge a relief to have those annoying celebrities busy and not bothering the public with more money-grabbing schemes and lame infomercials.

The famous battle of Grape Mountain was fought over the freedom of the armadillos. It was legendary in its bloodshed, and the huge amount of strawberries eaten by the armadillo army caused a famine and subsequent price inflation of strawberries for nearly a decade in Armadillo communities. Historians are still arguing as to just how far-reaching the effects of that war were and still are.

Since then, the armadillian population has mellowed and accepted their lot in life, mostly because of large amount of strawberries they get as advisors. But Travis wasn’t an advisor, or a captive. He was an honored friend and pet of the King. And he was trying to save the King.

I would tell you exactly what was said, but it would seem gibberish to the unlearned reader, since armadillos are strongly opposed to the use of verbs. So they have a different word for every action an object might become involved in. Ill just translate into English the general flow of the conversation. It was as follows:

“Queen Meg! Queen Meg!”

“Yes, Travis?”

“Something is wrong with King Nate.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. He remembered to feed me. He never remembers.”

“He fed you? On time?!”

“Yes!”

“Something IS wrong…”

(Note: This is where the translation of Armadillian into English ends. The rest is just English.)

Meg looked up at Mel. “Nate? What’s going on?”

“What do you mean? What did Travis say?”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“Of course I heard him. I heard a whole lot of chattering over there. I didn’t hear any real words.”

“You always understand Travis…You’ve been acting strange all week. Ever since that trouble with Mel. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, Im fine!” But he wasn’t. His plan was unraveling right before him. His cover was going to be blown any second. He just needed to last a few moments longer. To stall her for a few seconds. ‘Just keep her talking,’ he told himself.

“Meg?” he switched to a calmer tone, “how were the puddles?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, walking up to him, “I want to know what’s wrong.”

“I was merely curious.”

“They were wonderful. Now tell me, or I’ll tell C.O.R.P.S.E. not to make you any bacon for tonight.”

As if on cue, C.O.R.P.S.E. entered the room at that moment. “Guys, we’re in trouble.”

They were in trouble. And at that moment, so was King Nate. The true king of Kemenbar. After days of torment, he was finally ready to reclaim his throne. But before we get there, first we must know what happened to him over the previous week.

After Mel had made the deal with Meg and gotten her to hand over the bacon, Mel had teleported King Nate into his secret dungeon where he woke up soon after. Nate wasn’t quite sure what had happened, just that he was out of his daze and free to move again. And he suspected Mel was behind it. Evil twins always are.

He awoke shivering and soaked. His breath came out in white puffs. Moving his sore limbs, Nate stretched and rose to his feet. He looked around the dungeon. For the most part it fit the usual dungeon standards of living that people (especially avid readers of Dungeon Style Monthly) had come to expect of dictators, villains and evil twins. Tall stone walls were drenched with mold and rain water. A barred window about twenty feet up let cool night air and moonlight into the dungeon. And one thick, wooden door was locked in about a million different ways.

A chubby rat scurried by his feet. King Nate wasn’t really scared, maybe startled. Honestly though, he really thought that it was beneath Mel to fail in this area. To have a chubby rat in a dungeon messed with the feeling of being captive. But it wasn’t just that. Nate also thought the big screen TV and various DVDs of obnoxious reality TV shows messed with the dungeon-y, hope-crushing atmosphere. All in all, he was impressed with Mel’s sense of style and instinctive knack for breaking spirits and wills on a regular basis. In truth, he kind of admired him.

Nate knew he had to escape. So he searched the dungeon for some way to reach the window. After a few hours, he gave up in despair. There just wasn’t anything to use. So he sat on the couch and amused himself throwing the DVDs like Frisbees. He spent days doing not much of anything. Until one day, when the rain was coming down at the hardest, and leaking into his dungeon even more than usual, he heard a familiar voice. His voice. Or rather a voice that was indistinguishable from his own. It was Mel.

“Hello Nate. How are you?” Mel said as he began unlocking the door.

“Mel?”

“Yes, how very nice of you to visit. Most kings don’t take the time to visit their evil twin’s but you, you’re different. You actually have a heart in that royal chest of yours.”

“Mel, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Unlocking your door, of course. I know it seems like over-kill, but it’s really impossible to over-do the security in a dungeon, don’t you think?”

“Why have you abducted me?”

Mel ignored the question. He finished unlocking the door, and entered the room, only to quickly close the door behind him. “How do you like my dungeon? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nate resigned to the truth of the matter and nodded, “Yeah, I mean you should probably put that rat on a diet…except for that, it’s quite excellent.”

“You don’t think that adds to the effect?”

“Obese rats aren’t scary.”

“No? I thought they were more effective than mangy ones…”

“Not at all. It’s common knowledge. Practically a scientific fact. I read about it in Rodent’s Digest.”

“Hmm…I really should subscribe to more than one magazine.”

“Let me guess…Dungeon Style Monthly?”

“How’d you know?”

“I used to get it, but I had to cancel my subscription. They were just too pretentious and over-indulgent with the chains and torture devices. I get Cell Trends now.”

“And how is that?”

“Much better.”

“Hmm…I’ll have to look into that…”

Outside the door, a lion harrumphed. King Nate knew it was a lion’s harrumph. It was really unmistakable. The sound was something like when a tube of toothpaste, which having holes poked in it, is dragged across extra-huge Velcro in a furious manner. Or something like that. The point is, it was obviously a lion.

For the first time in a week, Nate felt fear. Mel strolled over to the door and opened it. “Come in, Barcode.”

Barcode, the lion entered the dungeon. He scrunched up his face as the dungeon stench assaulted his nose. Shaking his head to dispel the smell, Barcode stood there looking oddly harmless. Yet Nate still wasn’t sure.

“It’s been fun Nate. It really has. But I only have an hour or so to get back before Meg starts to worry. Besides, I have Mac and Cheese waiting for me. Have fun with my man-eating lion.” And with that, the evil twin left the room and closed the door behind him. His dramatic exit was slightly ruined by his presence outside the door, as he spent the next five minutes locking the door. King Nate and Barcode just stood there and stared at each other awkwardly while they waited for him to leave.

At last, Mel’s footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“So…are you going to…you know…eat me?” asked King Nate, as much to fill the awkward silence as out of genuine curiosity.

The lion looked at him with incredulity.

“Oh, do you not speak?”

The lion sighed, “Of course, I speak, Nitwit. I just don’t feel that that question deserves a response.”

“What kind of question would deserve a response?”

“Hmmm…probably something about Apricots,” said Barcode thoughtfully.

“Apricots?”

“Yes, apricots. They are rather delightful. Don’t you agree?” The word “agree” came out more as a growl.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I like you. What’s your name?”

“Not Nitwit.”

“I see.”

“I am King Nate of Kemenbar.”

“You’re the king? I should probably not insult you then…”

“Probably not,” Nate admitted.

“Do you, by any chance, need a Royal Lion to guard your person? I’ve always wanted to be a Guard of king.”

“Really?”

“Well, since a few seconds ago, at the very least,” Barcode admitted.

“I guess you could be my Lion Guard, if you promise a few things.”

“Anything,” Barcode pleaded.

King Nate thought for a moment. He tapped his chin, so as to make sure every thought came to his brain. He needed to do this right. “First, you cannot eat anyone or anything, unless I tell you to. Second, you must get me out of here. Third, you can’t insult me. And fourth, you have to answer one question.”

Barcode nodded, “I accept, now what is your question?”

“Why do all my animals have obsessions with fruit?”

“What?”

“Nevermind, just get us out of here.”

Barcode did get them out. Rather easily. He had his own set of keys, so it only took a few minutes, and soon King Nate was walking out of Mel’s rustic front door, and heading to reclaim his throne.

They walked through forests and fields for most of the day. Clouds of varying degrees of moodiness drifted overhead. Nate couldn’t help but feel alive, despite the dreariness. At one point, he noticed a green smudge of color in the distance waddling with a distinctive air of snobbishness about it. He recognized it immediately. “Ronny!” Ronny just continued walking, too important to acknowledge the King. Thankfully, at that moment a nearby Dragosaur heard that voice. And that dragosaur was Gus.

Gus smelled a lion nearby and became fearful for King Nate’s safety. So without much effort, he gracefully swooped down and scooped up the king. “Gus!” shouted King Nate, “it’s so great to see you.”

Gus nodded, but kept flying away from Barcode. “Gus?” asked Nate, “would you mind picking up that lion?”

Gus looked incredulous. “He’s a friend. And I need you to take us to Queen Meg.” Gus sighed and swooped back to pick up the lion. They reached the castle in twenty minutes.

Nate and Barcode were drenched when they finally entered the castle. Nate headed straight for the Throne room. Barcode and Gus obediently followed.

The hobbit servants (especially Tortellini, who had just come from the throne room, where Mel was eating his Mac and Cheese) were shocked to see the real King Nate. He ran through the halls as quickly as his feet would take him. He heard Johanna’s voice in the distance, “Guys, we’re in trouble.”

Just then, he got to the throne room. Mel was sitting on his throne. Meg was standing in front of him holding Gus, and wearing soaked rain boots. Johanna was also standing there. They all froze when he entered. “I’ll say.”

All Mel said was, “Really, Barcode?”

Barcode just shrugged. King Nate calmly walked up and said, “Mel get off my throne or Ill call Steph. She hasn’t used her taser in a while.”

Meg shouted, “Nate! It’s you! Are you ok?”

“Im fine. Or, rather, I will be once I get my throne back.”

Mel stood slowly, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve won already.”

“Nice try, but Im not buying it.”

Just then, Steph burst into the room, “Ok, I KNOW I heard ‘taser’ that time.”

“As Im sure Johanna was just about to tell you,” Mel announced, “Your tacos have been stolen. By me. You won’t ever find them.” A zebra appeared out of nowhere, in a magical cloud, which had also appeared out of nowhere. Mel nimbly leapt onto its back and tore off through the castle corridors.

The group consisting of a king, a queen, the very definition of a multi-tasker, a bodyguard, a lion, an armadillo, and a dragosaur, followed him without wasting a second. They chased him all over the castle. Even through parts Nate had forgotten about. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Mel was leading them somewhere.

His fears were proven when they turned a corner that Mel had just taken and saw a door. That was it. Just an ominous door. Nate shrugged. “Im sure it’s a trap, but I feel like blindly stumbling into a trap that will only result in our painful and untimely deaths…who’s with me?”

Everyone nodded, except for Travis. He nervously piped up, “Um…I have some strawberries to eat.”

“Ok Travis,” Nate nodded.

Travis scurried off. When he was gone, Barcode said, “He’s useless, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Nate replied, “Unless of course you need hammers stocked or the castle has a mutant strawberry infestation. Other than that, he’s completely useless.”

“I see.” With that, King Nate turned the doorknob and entered the musty blackness behind the door. The group entered. Blasts of cold air hit them from all sides. Nate and Johanna shivered uncontrollably. Meg and Steph would have shivered, but they are generally immune to that sort of thing. It’s unnatural, really. You can’t be standing outside in the cold with either of them and not feel like the biggest wimp to walk the face of the earth.

Suddenly, a long line of torches down the walls, lit up. Spiders scurried all over the walls and on the floor and on the ceiling. Finally, Meg shivered. Nate would have chuckled, but that that moment a gigantic butterfly (named Irene for those curious about the names of mutant butterflies) wielding a sunflower fluttered down on top of him. Let’s just say that the sounds that came from his mouth were life-altering to all who heard them and even some who didn’t. I won’t go any further into it than that. Otherwise emotional scarring would result.

Everyone else was assaulted with things they feared most. I would tell you what they are, but the truth is, I am King Nate, and I didn’t really pay attention to much else besides Irene. I apologize. Anyway, back to the story.

The screaming and shrieking (most of it Nate’s) went on for several minutes. All of a sudden, everything disappeared. From the other end of the corridor, they heard Mel scream.

Grate came out of a dark room at the end of the corridor. He looked surprised, “King Nate, it’s you! I saw you a moment ago, so I decided to sing for you the song I wrote about Kiwi fruit. But you disappeared in a puff of smoke. And…um…why are you crying?” No one bothered to explain to Grate what had happened. They just hurried into the room he had come out of.

The room was full of tacos. Piles and piles of tacos. Meg nearly died right then. Thankfully, Grate resuscitated her just in time for the taco party, which she enjoyed immensely. Everyone was happy. Especially King Nate who was finally back on his throne. (For real this time)