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The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.
Epilogue
It was a brilliant day on the Black Sea - a few fluffy clouds drifted in the slight offshore breeze. Napoleon was hungry. After being asked nicely five or six times Irn had made a bucket of bug duster paste for Napoleon, and now the big mutant camped in the shade of a tusked statue and slowly ate it. He was pretty dang sick of it; they had eaten nothing else for several days, but now Bungston actually liked the stuff, and so wouldn't try to transmute it into beef or lamb or something meatier. Dogs weren't meant to eat paste. The St. Bernard grabbed another pawful, then let it plop back into the bucket. It needed spice. He wedged the bucket in between the statue's gaping jaws to keep the food safe from crabs, then shuffled over to where Bungston and Irn lay prostrate in the sand.
The wizard and sorceress had embarked on a new Tan and Muscle Improvement Program, and were apparently working on the Tan part; Napoleon had yet to see Bungston work on the Muscle part, although Irn did some sort of calisthenics from time to time. The mutant stood over Bungston, blocking the sun. "Bung," he rasped. "We got any more nutmeg?"
Bungston looked up but shut his eyes quickly because of the hail of sand and small shells tumbling down from Napoleon's fur. "Yep," he snapped to avoid getting sand on his teeth. "But you have to grind it." Napoleon turned and loped into the cabana.
Bad crunching noises came from Robigus' room; the mildew god was apparently tormenting another one of the dwindling supply of mechanical devices in the cabana. One by one the remains of the stereo, microwave, and other damaged mechanisms had been incorporated to some new composite monstrosity Robigus was building; Napoleon was happy that it was not as noisy as the motorcycle had been. The mutant dug through trophy heads and plastic lawn sculpture until he found some nutmeg and Bungston's nifty nutmeg grater.
Napoleon had seen Bungston use the nutmeg grater numerous times, but had only used it himself once or twice; it was tough for him to operate the device with his clumsy paws. It was very nifty; all shiny handworn metal, with a round part to clasp the nutmeg and a rough piece you moved back and forth across the nutmeg to grate it. That was what Napoleon had trouble with; moving the rough piece. He carefully wedged the nutmeg in the round part and found a petrified watermelon rind to collect the gratings. He couldn't seem to grab hold of the rough part, though.
"Woops," he mumbled. The rough part had bent, due to Napoleon's efforts to get a digit underneath it, and now it wouldn't touch the wedged-in nutmeg no matter what. Maybe he could fix it. "Woops." Now it was really bent. The mutant looked around guiltily. Probably he should just hide it now and not mention it. But Bungston would find out since he used it so often; he would search and search and then find it and then chase Napoleon with a rolled up magazine. Napoleon hung his great shaggy head and walked back outside with the bent nutmeg grater.
"Bung? Bung? I think I bent this. I'm sorry. Can you fix it?" Bungston sat up and took the nifty nutmeg grater from his mutant. "Jees! What were you trying to do with it?" The wizard looked over the nifty device, noticing that in its bent position the rough part exposed some small engravings in the metal that he had not noticed before. He bent it some more until he could read the engravings. They said `Chazbirglath'. Bungston pointed out these engravings to Napoleon and Irn. "Check this out. I guess my nifty nutmeg grater is the Chazbirglath. That quest thing we were supposed to get."
Irn was asleep and so she didn't hear. Napoleon examined the engravings, then looked up at Bungston. "So, are you going to bring it in?" he ground like an unoiled chainsaw. "Since the Queen didn't make it up after all?"
"Heck no!" said the wizard, bending the nutmeg grater back into usable form. "We use this baby all the time. We need it." He ground a handful of nutmeg and passed it to Napoleon, who shambled back to his bucket and shady gargoyle. Bungston loosened the partly ground nutmeg clove and popped it under his tongue, then settled back to enjoy the sun.
The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.