I Glanced Over My Shoulder
prizes to promote mingling- licentious, creative French culture
- into a leather diaper
- she will marry a son of Zeus
- “Hello, Doctor.”
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I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to see someone else — anyone else — the old man could be talking about. I saw no one. And before I could make my escape, the two of them descended on me with so much back-slapping and hand-shaking it was as if they were attending a conference where the coordinator was awarding prizes to promote mingling.
I gathered from their excited exclamations that they had mistaken me for someone else, an expert in the licentious, creative French culture they loved so much. Something about my horny necromancer getup gave them that impression, although they kept trying to turn my cape into a leather diaper, despite my numerous protestations.
“Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” I said, “But I need to return to my hotel.” The sooner I got away from these randy geezers, the sooner I could track down John.
“Hotel!” cried the marginally older of the two. “I won’t hear of it! Any son of Zeus Pamplemousse who dares to chance our fair Isles of Bumpengrynd will sleep under my roof!”
The other one nudged me in the ribs and whispered loudly, “He wants you to meet his daughter. The prophecy says she will marry a son of Zeus Pamplemousse, and you’re the first to show up. As soon as you blow the lid off this whole thing, he’ll get the two of you in front of the shaman.”
I had, of course, heard of Zeus Pamplemousse. Who hadn’t? And given my current attire it was understandable that people would mistake me for one of his relatives. It was even sort of flattering. But what my life didn’t need was any more complications. I turned to dart away and ran right into a beautiful woman with a familiar face.
“Hello, Doctor,” she said. “Daddy told me you’d be arriving today.” She hooked one elbow with me and one with the oldest old guy. “Shall we head home and discuss the wedding?”
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