They sat in a lovely Fairy Circle, with the Monk E at one corner, confusing the dimensions of the place. The Fairies had enjoyed the tale as far as the bit about the 4th and 5th dimensions, as they really could not visualise these two concepts. They had, however, discovered that the Monk E was here to help and he seemed to have some good knowledge about Witchland.
And these facts, he was more than willing to share.
“There are even some Wizards in these parts who have turned to the bad. Not an easy place for five fine Fairies to go prattling about, waltzing to and fro like a dynamo. Even luscious battle readied Sankyu Fairies hell bent on completing a Quest, could come across beasts so awesome that their courage could fail, faces go pail, so they quickly set sail!” As he said all of this the eyes of the Monk shone bright with deep passion, enrapturing his quintet of warrior princesses.
“And yet,” he continued; “and yet the Universal Spirit has dropped you here in the swamps and forests of Witchland just as the Mystical Monk E should happen to be passing. Somewhere out there in the great unknown a greater thinking thing has planned this meeting!”
The girls snorted in derision.
Except for Lara Llama; she snorted a massive bogey onto her arm.
Mutch scornfully surveyed the Monk, who had by now tossed back his cowl. The revelation meant all fives babes looked at him mockingly. The guy had a long face topped with a mass of grey, curly hair, which made him look like an Old English Sheepdog that had been plugged into the mains supply. The midst of his face was crowned by a nose that said ‘I love my wine; its throbbing red veins indicative of many years of over indulgence. Yet his eyes; gorgeous blue pools of happiness, deep windows into the soul of a survivor.
He appeared to be wearing some kind of outdated dispersal pattern material, better known as camouflage, a word derived from French meaning to ‘flage a camou’. He also carried with him a large backpack, apparently made of the same material.
“What’s in the bag?” enquired Lady Stuppence.
“I haven’t got a clue,” replied the Monk. “We were all given one and told to use it when needed. All sorts of shite is stored in here. There was one time I stuck in my thumb and pulled out a plum and I heard a sound of a man shrieking in pain. On another occasion there appeared to be disco music emanating from my sack, so I looked in and saw a whole pile of fish dancing. I put my hand in to investigate and pulled a mussel. The there was the time I felt the need to eat some pork so I looked inside and pulled a hamstring. Last week I heard horses moving inside, some walking, some trotting and some going like the clappers; so I delved in and pulled a fast one.”
“Are you going to keep trying to do funny jokes?” asked Noor Kaneye. “Because you’re just not funny.”
“Funny as flu,” said Bumblefoot.
The Monk stopped talking for a while. He wondered if there was about to be a pause in the narrative.
No such luck.
“And what type of assistance could an old fart like you give to us Five Fully Armed Killers?” ridiculed Mutch.
It was the Monks turn to snort, even though he was trying to give up the habit.
“Let me ask you,” he began, “do you know how to mesmerise a Witch?”
“Cut its head off!” said Lady Stuppence.
“Or how to disorientate a rogue Warlock?”
“Cut its head off!” said Cyrena Bumblefoot.
“Or discombobulate a Vampyre?”
“Cut its head off!” said Noor Kaneye.
“Or to confuse an Estate agent?”
“Cut its head off!” said Lara Llama.
“Or pacify a rampant Zombie?”
“Cut its head off!” said Mutch.
The Monk paused, gave a wry smile. These Sankyu Fairies where a bit too single minded for dealing with all the close encounters they might encounter during this encounter. The Monk E looked to the sky, wondering if the Thesaurus had just broken down.
“Not bad; three out of five. But you’ll need to learn some more techniques when you’re dealing with Witches and Warlocks.”