Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Certainly, Your Honor. In the case of Hansel and Gretel Vs. Broomhilda the witch. The accused children ate large holes in her valuable house, which was made of candy. When she sued for compensation, Judge Ornkill awarded her the right to eat the children in return. Unfortunately, they pushed her into her own oven and escaped, but the ruling still stands,” she replied.
My body felt cold all over.
“What…what are you talking about?” I asked through numb lips. “You can’t be seriously thinking about letting the Ogre eat me?”
“Silence young lady!” Henkelman shouted at me. “That is exactly what I propose to do. It seems to me that eating you is a very fair compensation for the loss of Mr. Goremouth’s valuable pears!”
“But I’ll die!” I protested. “You can’t have me executed just for taking some pears!” I turned to Chester who was watching the proceedings with a vague look on his horsy face. “Chester, do something—say something. He’s about to eat me!”
“Seat you?” the Centaur asked, frowning. “Where? I don’t see any chairs in here.”
Realizing there was no help coming from that direction, I turned back to the judge.
“Your Honor, this is a gross miscarriage of justice!” I exclaimed. Then I had a sudden inspiration. “What will the rest of The Council of Wisdom think when they find out you allowed me to be killed over a basketful of pears?” I demanded.
At last something I said seemed to get through to the obstinate old judge.
“Well…” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Very well—I will modify my judgment somewhat,” he said.
Oh, thank God! I nearly sagged in relief. But it was short-lived.
“I will not order you to submit to being eaten without a struggle,” Henkelman said. “I will allow you to fight the Ogre for your life. If you can best him, he cannot eat you.”
“What?” I squeaked. “But…but he’s eleven feet tall! And he’s a Creature!”
“Very well—you may use your magic to fight him as well as your physical strength,” Henkelman said, as though he was doing me a great favor.
“I’m a Kitchen Witch!” I protested. “My magic is only good for baking—not fighting!”
“Well, it’s plenty good enough for tricking people into copulating with knotholes, isn’t it?” he snapped.
“That was an accident, Your Honor!” I protested. “How could I know that you would stick your dick in a hole in the wall and get a splinter?”
I realized that I shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words were out of my mouth because Henkelman’s face turned positively puce with rage and he pointed at me with his gavel.
“My judgment is final! You may fight the Ogre to try and preserve your own life but if he beats you, he is fully entitled to eat you in whatever way he chooses.”
“Ah, so sweet the meat!” Goremouth snarled, a large grin spreading on his dirty face to show his curving, dagger-like teeth. “Come on, girly—put up a fight! Makes your meat taste extra right!”
He began coming towards me and I shrank back away from him. I got ready to fight for my life—maybe I could kick him in the balls—when Chester suddenly spoke up again.
“A champion!” he said loudly.
“A what?” I looked up at the old Centaur uncertainly.
The vagueness had cleared from Chester’s face and he seemed to have finally grasped the situation.
“I said a champion!” he exclaimed. “When the match is unfair, the accused has a right to call a champion to fight for them!”
“You heard him!” I looked up at Grand Wizard Henkelman with desperate hope. “This match is extremely unfair! I should have the right to call a champion to defend me!”
The grumpy wizard looked like he wanted to disagree but apparently Chester had hit on some kind of legal precedent in the magical courts because at last he nodded.
“Oh, very well. Call for a Champion,” he said. “But be quick about it! This case has taken far too long already.”
I patted my pockets, but to my horror, I found I didn’t have my phone. And even if I did, who could I call? Maybe Sarah could convince Rath to fight for me—the big Orc could probably take on the Ogre. But without a phone, how could I ask for help?
“I don’t have my phone with me,” I said to Grand Wizard Henkelman.
He yawned widely.
“That’s too bad. This court does not supply communication devices—especially to convicted criminals!”
“Chester,” I said, turning to the Centaur. “I need a phone! A PHONE!”
But the vague look was back on his face again.
“A lone? Sorry but I don’t lone money to clients,” he said, stamping his back hoof. “Bad policy to start that, don’t you know!”
Well, he probably didn’t have a phone anyway. Where would he keep it? After all, it wasn’t like Centaurs could wear trousers, so they didn’t have any pockets. Desperately I thought of anything else I could do.