1.
They’re Good for You
The boy pushed a pile of vegetables around on his plate. He wasn’t an ordinary boy. He was a king. King Edwin Flashypants the First. There wasn’t a King Edwin Flashypants the Second or Third yet, but everybody in Edwin’s little kingdom thought it was such a great name that there were bound to be loads more kings called Edwin Flashypants in the future.
But even though the boy was special, the vegetables were very, very ordinary. There was cabbage, and spinach, and something that drooped like the nose of an old witch when Edwin picked it up with his fork. It had witchy pimples, too, and it dripped green water that looked a bit like snot.
So why was this king, who had suits of armor and a big shiny crown and a castle with its own bowling alley, eating a plate full of food he didn’t like?
King Edwin couldn’t do everything he wanted to. Being a king is hard—you’ve got to look after a whole kingdom-load of people. Imagine doing that when you’re just nine years old. So Edwin needed a grown-up to help him rule Edwinland, and her name was Minister Jill.
A month or two before this very vegetable-ish lunch, Minister Jill decided people in Edwinland were eating too many treats.
That’s what she said.
So she made the candy shops open for just two hours a day instead of twenty-four. She had the peasants digging huge vegetable patches next to Village, which was the name of the only village in Edwinland. Then she put up posters saying:
Minister Jill was just trying to keep everyone healthy, like a good minister should. But nobody seemed to be saying “Wow, thanks, Jill!”
Today, just for once, Jill wasn’t standing behind Edwin as he chewed slimy vegetables in the castle’s banqueting hall. She had taken the afternoon off work to do that thing grown-ups do sometimes, when they “pamper” themselves and have some “me time.” These were the days when Jill would listen to calming music and get her feet massaged, all while worrying about what trouble Edwin might get into next.
Edwin wasn’t alone, though. His best friend, Megan the Jester, ate beside him. She liked piles of vegetables even less than he did, so she was finding ways to get them off her plate without actually eating them. Megan tucked zucchini into the pointy bits of her jester hat. Then she pushed broccoli through the strings of her lute. It didn’t make much difference. There were still tons more to munch through.
“Help! Help!” A panicked voice floated through the banqueting hall’s window and right into King Edwin’s ear.
Edwin pushed his plate away and stood up.
“Megan? Somebody needs our help, and I’m fairly sure about that because he said ‘help’ twice. Let’s go!”
It was also a great excuse to stop eating the vegetables, but Edwin didn’t say that out loud.
“Your Majesty!” said Megan. “Helping people in need is so splendidly kingly!”
After she had applauded the king for five whole minutes, they ran outside to see what all the fuss was about.
By now the man who had shouted “Help!” was running around the streets of Village. His name was Baxter, and nobody had seen him for years because he was a hermit. He lived all by himself in the Wilderness of Crong, in a hut made from dead wasps. Being a hermit can be lonely—but on the other hand, there’s no one around to nag you about washing your armpits.
Baxter was famous for his beard, which was so long and bushy it covered his whole body. Nobody was ever sure if he was wearing clothes underneath or not, and everybody was too embarrassed to ask.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Sir Gentleman Fellow Good Sir?” said Edwin. The king always wanted to be polite, but he couldn’t remember exactly which words to use, so he used all the ones he knew.
“There’s-a-monster-and-it’s-eating-everything-oh-no-the-monster-the-monster-oh-no!” Baxter gabbled.
“Please, slow down a bit,” said Edwin.
“Theeeerrrrrreeee’sss aaaaaa mooooonsssttteerrr…”
“Okay, a bit faster than that,” said Edwin. “Kind of medium speed.”
“There’s a monster, young man!” said Baxter. “In the Wilderness of Crong. We thought it dead these last hundred years, but we were mistaken. Turns out, it was just having a long nap. And now it’s awake, and oh, it’s the most terrifying thing!”
Baxter was shaking and his eyes were bulging. It really was something to see. Peasants came running just to watch.
“It’s taller than a quite tall man standing on a box!” Baxter spluttered. “Its teeth are longer and sharper than bread knives! It has seven eyes! It ate all my goats and then gobbled up my best cow in one gulp, it did, it did! They say it can eat people, too!”
“What’s it called?” asked Megan.
“Its name? I shall tell you.
Its name …
its name …
its name …
its name…”
I like dramatic pauses as much as the next boy, thought Edwin, but I hope he gets to it soon.
Edwin thought about all those poor people beyond his merry kingdom, frightened for their lives with this Voolith running about.
Then he thought about how he had to eat what he was told, like a little boy. Edwin wanted to be just like a grown-up king, and do all the brave and bold things grown-up kings do.
King Edwin Flashypants took a deep breath and spoke to the crowd.
“People of Edwinland! The good folk of Crong need my help. And they’ll get it! I will cross the wilderness and fight the Voolith!”
Megan and the peasants cheered and threw their hats in the air. Those who didn’t have hats ran to buy them from the hat shop, just so they could throw them in the air, too.
“A proper king always keeps his promises. And I promise you this—I will defeat the Voolith, in single combat!”
“Our king is so brave!” said one peasant.
“He is a powerful force for good in this world!” said another.
Then Edwin realized he didn’t know what single combat meant, exactly. But he was fairly sure it involved some big metal box with spiky wheels, and a big boxing glove on the front that punches monsters while you relax inside it and drink lemonade.
Copyright © 2017 by Andy Riley
