Funny Excerpts

Does anyone have a funny excerpt? I'd really love to read some. I don't really have an entire funny scene that you can understand without reading the full book, but there is a chapter involving a genius redhead with taco socks.

(Guess where I got my inspiration from? Wearing my taco socks right now! I love socks with food on them.)

Taco socks?! Can you describe them please! I've heard of tacos but never seen one, let alone as a sock design...
It's not really a funny excerpt as such but on the topic of socks, my main character and an old man have a chase scene that also involves climbing a tree when my main character steals two mismatched socks (one of a gnome on a toadstool, the other with lots of squirrels on it)

I've got tons. Abbott and Costello routines, a lot of wackiness surroundingt he arrest of a car for bank robbery...

Minions of the bad guy who did it have an itneresting conversation.

“Well, this will cheer Hiss Fussiness up,” a minion said as he held up a large plastic tube which was attached to a board with eight levers. “It’s our new infomercial item.”
“What does it do?”
“It slices, dices, mixes, alphabetizes, cans, selects your NCAA tournament bracket with a special mathematical formula, converts solar energy into electricity, and last but not least, play wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns.”

and we see the evil minions playing "Go Fish at the end.

then there's the blooper with Dan Marino changed to San Marino, and most jokes surround supposed Viking attack on it but there's this one around Dan Marino...

“Mr. Marino, is it true that you’re an independent country?”
Adam was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to gawk strangely at Leonard. On the other, he wanted to simply laugh – laugh as he would if Corey had said something really cute or just plain off the wall, with the kind of logic only five-year-olds could muster.
He was glad to be Leonard’s friend at times like this, though. He imagined the reporter with Leonard may have wanted to hide when Leonard asked about living in a torn-down home. He knew god loved everyone, though, and that such care and concern was important. After all, Leonard’s words were hardly vulgar or mean – two things neither of them could stand and which both felt polluted the kind, caring society around them. People could handle Leonard’s antics, though; and enjoyed laughing with Leonard; and Leonard certainly did laugh at tiems once he realized the strangeness of his comments.
Marino couldn’t quite figure out what he’d meant. “A country?” he asked as the gathered scribes began to chuckle.
“Yeah, I read somewhere there’s a Republic of Dan Marino,” Leonard explained.
“Okay, look, not only am I happy as an American, I’m one person,” Marino explained. “A republic, from what I remember, is a representative democracy.” He counted the things needed on his fingers. “In other words, for me to be a republic, I’d have to elect members of myself from myself in order to represent me in front of me.” As everyone else laughed – including Leonard, who had quickly joined in – Marino added, “Did someone put you up to that as a prank? If so, it’s a good one.”

Couple of my favorites:

“Sarcasm. That trait is never coded in. Your nerve data –”
“Is unusually warped, I know,” I cut him off. “It’s as warped as warped can be, as warped as an electrocuted snake on a Seder plate.”
Sumner blinks. “That’s…really warped.”


"It appears that rioters and drunkards do not appreciate being lectured on the finer points of Constitutional law.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Please tell me ya didn’t think lecturin’ would win ya any points with that crowd.”
“Perhaps that was why I did it. I promise you, I have not the faintest desire to earn points, as it were, with people who can be fooled into believing that a subpoena is an obscure sexual position.”

“You know, if you want to become a bloody carcass, there are more efficient ways of going about it.”
John pulls up a stool beside Zlota. “You know, Moshe, sometimes I get this funny feeling that you’re a morbid person with a dark soul. Odd, isn’t it?”
Moshe hands me the dishwashing soap. “At least I have a soul. You sold yours to the fiends for money and power.”
John snorts. “In that case, I’m thinking I might just have a case for breach of contract.”

“Oh, come on. No one’s gonna waste that many Moronic Cocktails –”
“Molotov Cocktails.” Zlota bangs the pot again, sending headache waves through my temples.
“Jesus, girl, were my eardrums married to you in a former life?”
Zlota regards me with grave amusement. “No, silly. They were married to David Tennant. Everybody knows that.”

I haven't 'til now even scrolled back through what I've written thus far, but this exchange between my shopkeeper-hero Iris and a customer seems kinda funny (to me, at least)…

---

The forlorn jester's bells chimed, and in walked another customer. He had in his hands a very small, very broken crystal.

The interloper cleared his throat. "Good day to you, miss. I wonder if I might speak to someone about this?" He smiled almost apologetically, held forth the shattered rock in his hands in a gesture of supplication.

"You might," dripped Iris icily, "speak to me." If the newcomer hadn't had need of chill mail before now, he might certainly do with some now.

The man smiled again. "You see, I was really hoping that I might speak to your manager?"

"Oh, I see, I see… just one moment." Without breaking eye contact, Iris rummaged professionally beneath the shop counter, and drew out what might have once been a small rodent. Pursing her upper lip, she lay the furry ex-creature across it, pinning a grey-brown cigar of fur between her nose and upper lip. Dropping her voice half an octave, she addressed the man again.

"How can I help you."

He has the element of surprise, which is kind of a stupid thing because if surprise was an element it would be a Noble Gas and therefore very stable and predictable. Not very useful to try and fight someone with a noble gas. Really your best bet would be a combination of Hydrogen and Oxygen, using the oxygen to combust the Hydrogen, but that wouldn’t necessarily work because you’ll probably just make a little bit of water and then you’ll have to get a mop.

"“Chopper, sic balls.” A loud, deep rumble came from behind me, and Pat froze in place. I glanced behind me, because that did not sound like the darkhounds I'd heard before. At this point you have to give me some leeway. How was I supposed to know there was a specific darkhound named Chopper?
And did he ever look like he was designed to sic balls."

Shameless Stephen King nod. XD

This still needs a major rewrite, but maybe it'll crack a smile anyway:


Her betrothed was mad with grief - it was the only explanation for his behavior. Maura stood there, her mouth agape, as she watched Bryant pace about his office, explaining his plan.

“And then, once I’ve defeated the monster – a dragon or an ogre I’m thinking – I’ll return to you in triumph, ask for your hand in marriage, and we’ll live happily ever after,” Bryant said. He gave her a brisk nod and brushed away the bit of hair that had fallen into his face as he rattled on about his fantastic tale.

“There aren’t any dragons or ogres,” Maura said. At least there weren’t any that she’d ever heard of. They were creatures from fairy tales; no mention of either beast appeared in any reputable history. But then, since she felt sorry for Bryant, who had so recently lost his father and had to assume all the stresses of ruling the kingdom, she took his hand in hers and said, “At least that we know of.”

“That’s it!” Bryant squeezed her hand tight. “There are none that we know of. But we’ve heard tales of them, and it seems likely that at any moment they’ll swoop in and terrorize a village, steal a princess, and wreak havoc until they are stopped by a great and glorious hero like myself.”

“I don’t think there are any princesses in our kingdom, either.” Bryant was an only child.

"Well, there's you," Bryant said, before he shot her a glare, as though she'd done something wrong. "But no. I suppose you're far too sensible to get yourself abducted by an ogre."

Maura would never fall for their diabolical traps - not, of course, that ogres existed. Nor was she a princess. Arguably, she was barely nobility. While her father had proven himself in battle time and again, managing to work his way to where the king appointed him his general and gifted him with lands, neither of her parents were particularly high born.

"..."I've got one of those, except it's in my throat," Harret tapped his throat, "And it's called my voice box."
"Funny, I thought only humans had those," Frg commented. Harret shook his head.
"Oh, no. We aliens have them too," Harret did a double take and demanded, "Well, how do you think I'm talking to you!?"
"Pig Latin."
"Ah."..."

----

"..."This is really important!" Frg exclaimed, leaning on both of them at once which was a feat in itself. When everyone looked at him, Frg grinned and said, "Hi."..."

----

"...."Ohhs duckieh I lovesh you... mah rubbar duckshy I loves!"..."

----

"..."That's weird," Harret commented, "That's really, really, really...."
They exchanged the same glance.
"Frg!" Elizabeth and Harret chorused...."

----

"...Frg peered over her shoulder at the cookbook. Alice quickly closed the book and went back to stirring brown batter in a large bowl. Frg leaned against the counter and took a nice large sniff with his nice large nose.
"Chocolate!" he announced excitedly, and his finger went towards the bowl. Alice reached over to a nearby counter, grabbing hold of a large, clean wooden spoon. She brought the spoon down on Frg's hand.
"Ow!" Frg cried in total agony and pain as the wooden spoon smacked him across his knuckles, "Geeze! I was just going for chocolate, you know!"
"I know, but this isn't for you," Alice answered.
"What is it?? Cookies?" Frg exclaimed. Alice shook her head.
"No," she answered.
"Um... muffins?" Frg guessed.
"No."
"Cupcakes?"
"No."
"Uhhh... oh, I know! Pie?"
"No."
"What is it?" Frg exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, "I need to know, Alice! You don't realize how much this means to me, do you?"
"I'll give you a hint," Alice commented as she poured the bowl of batter into a pan, "It's for a birthday."
"Ice cream!" Frg shouted, pointing his finger into the air triumphantly...."

----

Frg is such a loon.

#1
" 'They're a cult?'
'Yeah, pretty much. Girl, they a bunch of devil worshipping sons of bitches.'
'Devil worshippers? Are you a Satanist too?'
'Naw, girl, I ain't no devil worshipper. Them's crazy motherf***rs. I mean, I got the sign, but I usually just ignore it.'
'The sign?'
Javonte lifted his shirt to reveal a large five-point-star shaped scar right in the middle of his chest, only inches from his heart. The points of the star were adjoined by a circle that connected all the points. Two of the points faced upward, while the fifth pointed down, as to accommodate the head of a goat: the image of Satan. Beth took one look at it and gasped.
'You're Jewish!?' "

And #2
" Everyone turned around to see Beth clutching her right hand desperately in her left. There was blood dripping into a small puddle on the floor, originating from her middle finger. There was a new gaping wound, nearly cutting her to the bone. Everyone stopped and stared at her for a moment. But there was a peculiar look on their face. She tried to identify it. It was hunger. She tried harder to catch the blood, to stop it from pooling on the ground beneath her. It was bleeding so much that she couldn’t keep it all in. Several drops fell to the ground, making a tantalizing splash against the already formed puddle. Ean held his arms out and approached her slowly. She couldn’t help but scream.
“NO!”
Ean stopped in his tracks and jumped slightly backward out of surprise.
“What’s the matter?”
“You… you want to drink my blood! Right?”
“No, you cut yourself pretty badly. I wanted to make sure you were ok,” he said, quite confused.
“But you look so… so… like you’re hungry. You know, for blood.”
Ean stood up straight and laughed hard. Beth had no idea what was going on.
“No, no, no, Beth, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not hungry. That’s just the look I get on my face when I have to take a shit!” "

I also kinda like this one. I don't know why :P

#3
"She would kill Jared. Ean would help kill Jared. Carson would kill Ean and I. My father would kill Carson. Emily would kill my father. My Uncle would kill Emily and the rest of the town would kill the rest of the family. Everyone was going to end up dead. And it was all because of her middle finger. "

Quote:“That was fucking awful,” Graham said, wincing. “What the hell is this stuff?”

Jack handed him the bottle. “Canadian whiskey. I didn’t actually think it was that bad.”

“It comes in a plastic bottle.”

“So does most of the stuff we drink.”

Graham shook his head and handed it along to Darby, whose eyes narrowed as he read the label. “Where the fuck is Canadia?” he asked. “Because I would like to invade them.”

BOOM. Take that, Canada.

oooh! I have a whole bunch!:

“I’m so hot you’ve got to measure it in Kelvins.”

The Piggly Piff’s natural habitat was somewhere over the rainbow where unicorns had already gone through the Civil Rights Movement and could fly just as well as Pegasus can, and leftover metamorphic candies that were so high in corn syrup that they had a mind of their own could fulfill their dreams and take the form of a feline and fly as well, only much more annoyingly, which is why the Piggly Puff is so essential in its ecosystem.

“Now, repeat after me, class: Ha HA HA HA ha.”
None of them had ever done this before, and so did their best to imitate her. Half of the class was obviously timid, and so mumbled, “Ha… ha… hahaha?”
“No! No! Like this.” She cleared her throat, and sang again, “Ha HA HA HA ha.”
“Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.”
“Closer. You’ve just got to have that tone difference there. From C to E anc back to C. Now let’s try it: Ha HA HA HA ha”
“Ha HA HA HA ha!”
“That was very well done, students, especially for your first try! Now, let’s snazzy it up a bit. Do it with a descending G, like so: Ha Ho Hoooo.”
“Ha Ho Hoooo…”
“Good! Now replace the beginning ‘ha’ with a ‘Mwah’. Mwah Ho Hoooo! The men should be able to sing this an octave lower than that.”
“Mwah Ho Hoooo!”
“Yes! Yes! Now try Mwah Ha HA Ha ha.”
“Mwah Ha HA Ha ha.”
“With feeling! MWAHAHAHAHA!” Somehow, she had pulled a very eviel looking organ out from the corner of the room (note how “evil” is spelled) and began playing it to the melody.
“MWAHAHAHAHAH!!!”
“AND THEY THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY! MWAHAHAHAHAH!!!”
“THEY WERE WRONG! THEY WERE ALL WRONG! I’M NOT CRAZY! I’M GENIUS! MWAHAHAHAHAH!!!” They silently stood there for a second, wondering how in the world that happened. It was a phenomenon best not explained.

I thought this was a particularly humorous little bit:

My MC is knitting in front of his fireplace when:

Something scratched at the window through the rain, but Beck dismissed it. “Probably another Girl Scout selling cookies.” Outside, a Girl Scout, attempting to find shelter from a rabid wolf, was dragged away to her doom. Beck snuggled up under his blanket and knitted a bit slower. “Patience is a virtue.”

I will give you a little summary of what the excerpt is about :
Adrianna one of the main characters goes on a walk in Mexico and hears a gun shot. She goes to investigate, and finds a house with the door open and men from Mexican drug Cartels inside. One Cartel is trying to kill the other Cartels errand boy named Luis.
Crack. Adrianna accidently stepped on a stick. All the men turned to look at her. ‘‘Who are you?’’ asked the man with the gun. ‘‘Adrianna Carazo, friend of Elizabeth Brown, (or at least I was), daughter of Half Mexicans. Age 17, a member of the National Concert Choir of America team which just got 5th place. First year choir member. Sister of Emily Carazo, (who lives in New York ), my parents Karen Carazo and James Carazo live in Texas, I have never eaten shrimp, lard, liver, or canned spam. My best friends of my parents are Linda Walker and Elliott Walker…..’’Began Adrianna. ‘‘I didn’t ask for your whole life story, I just asked for your name.’’ growled the man turning the gun towards her. ‘‘What’s your name?’’ questioned Adrianna. ‘‘Rafael Mendez,Son of Lucero and Karime Mendez..….we are talking about you not me. Don’t change the subject. Just answer this question. Why are you here?’’ snarled the man. ‘‘Well, it started back when my older sister Emily was born. My parents were really happy they had their first child and then, they 7 years later had me. I was definitely the reddest baby they had ever seen……When I was 3 years old, my aunt suggested…….When I was 10 years old…… ‘‘I want a simple answer.’’ roared the man ‘‘You ask for a simple answer, here it is…unless you can…Well, anyway, I was auditioning for the National Concert Choir of America in New York City, and I got in. Then I started off by traveling the countries, we won a lot and we lost some. Then we came down here for a competition, and after getting 5th place in all the top teams, we stayed here to do community service. But tonight I was having an argument with Elizabeth Brown, and then I went on a walk, when I heard a gunshot and went to go investigate….’’ Started Adrianna. ‘‘I have a question.’’ Replied Luis. ‘‘What is this National Choir you are talking about? Do you get paid money?’’ inquired Luis. ‘‘Yeah, and you get to travel the world. It is really cool.’’ responded Adrianna grinning. ‘‘Stop! You guys are talking about things that do not matter. What matters is that we are bringing down the greatest Mexican drug Cartel, so we can become the greatest. I will kill this boy and no one can stop me.’’_______ rumbled.

Just as Macbeth did, she began to consider all the things she could do with the knife. She could cut so many things… So many things. Vegetables, fruits, meats, oh! So many wonderful things to cut! Unfortunately—she glanced at Ean and back—she’d have to wait to cut anything else until she was done with—
“FUCK!”
Everyone turned around to see Beth clutching her right hand desperately in her left. There was blood dripping into a small puddle on the floor, originating from her middle finger. There was a new gaping wound, nearly cutting her to the bone. Everyone stopped and stared at her for a moment. But there was a peculiar look on their face. She tried to identify it. It was hunger. She tried harder to catch the blood, to stop it from pooling on the ground beneath her. It was bleeding so much that she couldn’t keep it all in. Several drops fell to the ground, making a tantalizing splash against the already formed puddle. Ean held his arms out and approached her slowly. She couldn’t help but scream.
“NO!”
Ean stopped in his tracks and jumped slightly backward out of surprise.
“What’s the matter?”
“You… you want to drink my blood! Right?”
“No, you cut yourself pretty badly. I wanted to make sure you were ok,” he said, quite confused.
“But you look so… so… like you’re hungry. You know, for blood.”
Ean stood up straight and laughed hard. Beth was utterly confused.
“No, no, no, Beth, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not hungry. That’s just the look I get on my face when I have to take a hard shit!” He laughed again.
Beth’s face flushed, making her usually pale skin rosy and red with embarrassment.
“Oh… I thought—“
“I’m sure you thought something that’s completely crazy.” He smiled, showing his yellow crooked teeth.
“Yeah, right. Completely crazy…”
“Don’t worry, Beth. No one here is going to hurt you. We’re wild, but not that wild.” Everyone had a good chuckle at that, including Beth, who’s hand still throbbed like a bitch. Jared, who had not been present when this all occurred, walked in from the kitchen. He sniffed hungrily at the air, making sure to take in all the sweet scent of blood nearby. He looked ferociously at Beth, licking his ugly and crooked fangs. He suddenly sprang forward, pushing her back onto the floor. She tried to get away, but he quickly jumped on top of her, keeping her pinned to the white floor, now covered with even more blood. He ripped her hand out of her other and away from her chest. He squeezed her tightly at the wrist, bringing it closer to his face. He eyed it over, sniffing the wound before fiercely biting down on her finger, sucking and chewing on it. Beth screamed and writhed on the floor beneath him, desperately trying to push him off of her. He chewed on her finger so hard that the skin began to break beneath his sharp teeth. He got to the bone, and, not stopping to think about it, cracked the bone of her finger clean in two. She let out a horrific scream from the floor as Carson and Ean tried to pry Jared off of her. They managed to get him up enough so that she could crawl away, leaving a thin trail of blood behind her. The two guys threw him against a wall and pinned him as he flailed and tried to get back at Beth’s finger, which was now laying on the ground, completely severed. The flailing and yelling went on for about a minute before Jared started to calm down. Carson and Ean gently let go of him, but stayed carefully close. He looked at the girl standing across the room from him, gripping her hand tightly, tears streaming down her face, blood pouring from her hand. She could hardly breathe.
“Oh my god, Beth, I… I don’t know what… I’m so… I’m sorry…” He held out his arm and started to approach her to comfort her, but Ean and Carson slammed him against the wall again. Ean looked angrily at him and growled slightly, like he might kill him if he wasn’t careful.
“Come on guys,” he pleaded with them.
“No,” they both growled.
“Come on Beth, It’s only a scratch!”
“You bit my fucking finger off!”
“Well… Look, it’s only a flesh wound!
“Jared!”
“You must have had worse, right!?”
“That was my fucking favorite finger, Jared!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”
“How did you not know that it wasn’t ok to bite someone’s finger off?”
“Um... Pass!”
“What?”
“I want a different question! Pass!”
Beth looked suddenly as though she could kill him right then and there. She wanted him to shut up. He sensed this right away and stopped talking. She continued to stare at him until she saw Rachel picking up her finger out of the corner of her eye. Maria was lapping at the blood on the floor and the severed part of the finger to try and get the blood off. Rachel extended her arm toward Beth, offering her the finger.
“We could sew it back on, if you want.”
“What? Maria’s been licking that thing for the past five minutes, why would I want it sewn back on to me after that?”
"I don't know," she said shyly. "Seems like you were sort of attached to it."

Numbah 1:

Quote:"Are you crazy?"

"That's one term for it, yes."

Numbah 2:

Quote:With no one else around, the insatiable desire to sing arose within him:

"I'm in a room
There's no one here
It's like a tomb
I need a beer
Someone help me
These people are insane
They nauseate me
And feed on brains
Why can't they like
To eat some meat
Or a sandwich
Or something...
Crap."

Unfortunately, his creativity wasn't what it used to be, and the melody was lost to the echoing in the hidden corners of the room.

"She burst into tears," Gunnar said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I didn't know what to do so I told her we knew everything. And that if she lied to us, we would send her to the pen for twenty years."
“Is she even a suspect?” I asked.
“No, but at least she stopped crying.” Gunner said, finishing his lunch. “I think she fainted.”

Mine NaNo isn't even in this category, but I have to post this excerpt:


     Mary was about to respond when the door slammed open. "Shoes off at the door!" she yelled to whoever was coming inside. Not shortly after that, Kyle came barging through the kitchen doorway. "Where's your brother?" asked his mother.
     "Changing his shirt," he said, flashing a quick smile at Cass. Like they were sharing some kind of secret.
  "Kyle Harrison, what did you do?" Mary asked.
     She got her response because a couple of seconds later, Luke came stomping in. He had on a new shirt, while the one he had worn to school that day was crumpled up in his hand. "He threw chicken crap at me! And you say I'm the younger one!"
     Mary had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Kyle, why would you throw chicken poop at your brother?"
     "Thought he needed a little chicken crap in his life," said Kyle with a shrug.
     At that, their mother actually had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Why did her eldest son have to be such a smart aleck all the time? "Kyle, don't do that again. Luke, next time he does, you have my full permission to throw some back."
     "Yeah, and start a full out chicken crap war. Sounds like an excellent plan, Mom," Luke said.

I have a few mainly because the story I'm writing now is all parody. Here's some of the ones I liked the most:

#1: “Get me Sir Andrew,” the King commanded to one of his guards.
The guard stared at him for a long moment, blinking before nervously clearing his throat. The King raised an eyebrow at that and waited patiently for the guard to voice his concerns. He figured the man must be new, no one questioned the King about a direct command.
“Ah, which Sir Andrew my Lord? Sir Andrew of the Blonde Locks, Sir Balding Andrew, Sir Andrew of the Archers, Sir Andrew of the Raven’s Locks, Sir Andrew of the Bastard Sir Thomas, Sir Andrew of the...er Fairies, Sir Andrew of the White Armor, Sir Andrew of the Black Armor, Sir Andrew the Red, Sir Andrew the Blue, Sir Andrew the Green, Sir Andrew the Troll, Sir Andrew the Org, Sir Andrew the Dull, Sir Andrew of the Troll Sir Richard, Sir Andrew of the Blood-thirsty Sir Robert, Sir Andrew the Silver, Sir Andrew of the Forests, Sir Andrew the Horse Lover, Sir Andrew the Dolt, Sir Andrew the Gray-beard, Sir Andrew of the Cross, Sir Andrew the Devote, Sir Andrew the Yellow Stripe, or Sir Andrew of the Lakes?” the guard questioned in a rush.
Logically with all the Sir Andrew’s in the castle it made well enough sense to pose such a question. Andrew was a popular name, like Robert or Thomas. The King was actually named Andrew but no one called him King Andrew as there were so many other men who held that name. The King really did not much like his name anyway so he did not bother to decree that it never be used. That would be pointless.
“Oh, right. Get me Sir Andrew the Silver,” the King clarified with a nod of his head.
“Right away my Lord,” the guard noted and hurried off.
The King watched him for a moment. Then his brows furrowed and he rubbed his chin in thought. The other guards went through various stages of disbelief and wonder at the King’s utterance:
“Or is it Sir Andrew of the White Armor I want? Hm...”

#2
“Dragons are immortal and unless the food source runs out, they remain in that spot. Once your village is little more than starving people and rubble, the dragon will move on. You would find it hiding in a near-by cave that would be difficult for a human to climb. It’s probably in that cave three days journey from the forest at the edge of your farmland,” the Professional informed the King.
“There is nothing we can do to stop it?” the King wailed in misery.
He liked his village and the beast would be the death of his home if he could not get rid of it. If the villagers heard about it, they would all pick up and leave even if that meant taking their chances with a worse ruler.
“You could send it a few knights for a snack, one might get lucky and actually hurt it but that would only prove to piss it off and torch the entire village. If the knight gets really lucky he might actually kill it,” the Professional described.
“What are the chances of that?” the King laminated.
“Well, that knight would have to be the boy-toy of Lady Luck and the Hags of Fate to kill a dragon,” the Professional surmised.
“Oh Hell,” the King grumbled.
“That’s about right. No payment for this visit since it is horrid enough luck that you’ve got a dragon. Good luck,” the Professional told the King and began the journey back to his cart.


#3
Sir Andrew the Silver had bronze colored hair and silver eyes with sharp features. Sir Andrew of the White Armor was blonde with blue eyes. Sir Andrew the Dolt and Sir Andrew the Dull were the two who mistook the other Andrews. Of course, they were not called Dolt and Dull for nothing.
“Sir Andrew!” the guard shouted as he approached the other two.
“What is it?” both responded as the guard slowed his pace and noted just who was guarding the castle gates with Sir Andrew the Silver.
“Er, Sir Andrew the Silver, my pardons Sir Andrew of the Bastard Sir Thomas,” the guard muttered out.
“Oh, all right then,” Sir Andrew of the Bastard Sir Thomas stated and turned away from the conversation.
“What is it?” Sir Andrew questioned again.
“The King requests your presence in the throne room,” the guard informed him.
“All right, I assume you’re here to take my place then?” Sir Andrew inquired with a small frown.
“Er, the King didn’t mention anything about that,” the guard stuttered out.
“Well I can’t leave my post unattended,” Sir Andrew stated with a grunt.
“Oh bother, the King is requesting you Sir Andrew the Silver. Do we have to change your name to Sir Andrew of the Dumb?” Sir Andrew of the Bastard Sir Thomas groused.
“It’s written in the Knight’s Bible that we have to stay at our posts until death or switching occurs,” Sir Andrew the Silver countered.
“Idiot,” Sir Andrew of the Bastard Sir Thomas mumbled.
“I can guard your post until you return,” the other guard butted in before Sir Andrew the Silver spoke again.
“Well why didn’t you just agree to it in the first place?” Sir Andrew inquired gruffly.
“Ah, word count?” the guard mentioned.
The three men took a moment to glance up at the sky and give a brief note of praise to the God(dess) of their world.
“Right,” Sir Andrew the Silver uttered and walked off.

and finally we meet the fearsome dragon:
Sir Andrew saw no issue in walking up to the beast and stabbing it through one of its closed eyes. This was not a cowardly move, actually considering how simple most knights are, this was a brilliant strategic decision. Squire Bob would have been proud.
Sir Andrew took a few careful steps forward, keeping his eyes locked on the beast in front of him. Remember all those bones that were mentioned? Well, Sir Andrew definitely did not. He only thought about them when he stepped on one and caused it to crack in half. The thing about dragons is that they have impeccable hearing. One little snap and the giant beast that Sir Andrew really did not want to wake up was awake.
“Oh Hell, who are you?” the dragon squealed in a high pitched voice.
Sir Andrew could not be certain but he was fairly sure the dragon’s voice was so high-pitched because of fear.
“Uh, I am Sir Andrew. Prepare to meet your doom?” Sir Andrew tried as the beast stood to cower in the back of the cave.
“What? Oh Hell, please don’t kill me. I was just hungry, that’s all! Oh what do I do? Wait, I know! I’ll leave and never come back. Just don’t hurt me,” the dragon pleaded in a whimpering tone.
Sir Andrew stared dumbly at the fretting beast that could easily bite him in half if it so chose. It was hunched back as far as it could possibly go into the back of the cave and was trembling all over from fright.
“Ah, I would but the King requested proof of me killing you and the Knight’s Bible says I have to do what my Liege or Lord commands under threat of death,” Sir Andrew explained.
“Proof? Proof? What king of sick bastard needs proof?”