Part the Third

Despite her hatred of flying, Kate the Impaler is on her way to Atlanta, GA in the dragon’s belly… literally.

Great was the relief of Kate the Impaler when at last she was able to exit the belly of the dragon. Greater still was her joy at being reunited with her baggage. Alas, her pleasure lasted but little: once she had departed the southern lair of the great dragons, she did find air of such heat and moistness she could ill distinguish between drinking it and breathing it (give me some slack: my part of PA rarely gets that hot and humid, and I’ve acclimated enough that Atlanta was kind of a shock).

There she did bid a small messenger bird to return unto her beloved husband with the news that that the great journey did proceed safely, ere seeking a shaded location to rest while awaiting the carriage.

Great was her dismay upon realizing that while the carriage did make use of the arcane magic of air conditioning, such magic powers did not extend unto the vehicle’s suspension. And so did the time pass, with the warrior maiden’s behind feeling every last unevenness of the road (and lo! The roads were peopled aplenty with workers, thus ensuring that there were many unevennesses for Kate the Impaler to perceive).

At long last, the carriage did make rest at the gates of the realm of Choo Choo, wherein the Evil Muse did await to convey her and her baggage unto the finest palace in the realm… Or so did the advertising claim.

The warrior maiden did beg to differ with such claims, for though the Evil Muse and the Redhead of Doom did greet her with joy and welcome, and did take her to the lair of the Gay White Mormon Men With Great Racks (wherein did the Mistress of Costume agree that Kate the Impaler was indeed a worthy member of that exclusive brethren… or sorority).

There did she wait. For lo! Though the palace advertising did state that guests might make themselves comfortable from the hour of four, the suite prepared for her was not prepared for such a distinguished guest. That it was not prepared for any guest, be they ever so lowly, did not appease the warrior maiden, who may have permitted language not appropriate for one of her station to pass her lips.

At last, the Redhead of Doom did form a one-woman raiding party (or possibly a one-Gay-White-Mormon-Man-With-Great-Rack raiding party) and storm the palace demanding the guest suites for which she, her husband-to-be, and Kate the Impaler were required to part with substantial gold (By this stage I was feeling quite ill, something that got explained earlier this week by – yay – a diabetes diagnosis. Fear not (or fear, your choice) medication has been procured and the finger stick doover will be happening in 8 days).

The heart of the warrior maiden did sink unto the nether regions of her shoes when she did enter her suite at last, for alas! It did smell of mold, albeit faintly, and the air-conditioning spell did rattle and groan – though to her great relief it did blow exceedingly cold. Worse was to come, for when Kate the Impaler did open her baggage, there lay the dread glyph of the minions of the dragons. They had violated the sanctity of her possessions: what vile curse had they left?

With trepidation did she extract clean clothing of sufficient niceness as to be appropriate to a wedding, and take herself unto the bathroom, wherein did Kate the Impaler do battle with the imp possessing the shower, for should she elect to have cold water, she did receive a stream of heated water like unto scalding. Choosing hot water did make no difference. Only when the warrior maiden did place the dial exactly half way between hot and cold did she receive water of a temperature she could endure (it was tepid. Yes, I had tepid showers all con).

Then, as she rested ere the wedding, she did note the dark stain forming an elegant fan from the vent of the air-conditioning spell. Small wonder the suite did give off an odor of staleness, for if it was cleaned as well and as often as the air vent, it would indeed be stale and unpleasant.

Then did the palace maid arrive to finish making the bed, and Kate the Impaler did get treated to a lengthy monologue from said maid as the bedding was wrestled into compliance. And the warrior maid did muse darkly that only the impending nuptials did save the palace owners from a terrible – if richly deserved – fate for their failure to employ sufficient servants to attend their guests.

Little did she know that worse was to come…

To be continued.