*******
Jack Kelly woke up covered in mud and rain. It took him a moment to realize that the street he was lying on was nothing but gooey muck. Sitting up, he surveyed his surroundings.
The road Jack was sitting on was fairly narrow, and it ran through a small village made up mostly of muck-and-straw huts. Several onlookers had crowded near Jack, staring. He stared right back. The villagers wore close to rags, their faces smeared with grime and filth. A few of them were barefoot. Terribly thin, they looked like they hadn't had a meal in months. Reminds me of home, Jack thought to himself.
After a moment, Jack picked himself up and cautiously walked over to the villagers. "Hiya, I'm Jack Kelly. Any youse know where I can wash me clothes an' get a bath? I don' mind payin' a couple bits fer used water, so long as I get cleaned up."
For a minute, the small group stared at Jack. A man, looking around age fifty, suddenly got a spark in his eyes. "Meat."
"Yeah, come to think of it, I'd like somethin' to eat, too," Jack said, more to himself than the people.
The man seized Jack roughly. "MEAT!"
"Hey, now wait a - "
It was then that it dawned on Jack: these people were starving, and he was a foreigner. Upon this realization, Jack wrenched himself away from the man and started running aimlessly. He kept running until he ran smack into the hind end of a horse, hitting the ground with a sickening splat.
"Owwww," Jack groaned, rolling around on the ground in pain.
The horse's rider turned the horse to face Jack. "Having sight problems, lad?"
Jack opened one eye to look up at the man. He was gangly, with long, graying hair, deep-set gray eyes, and unusually pronounced cheekbones that were even more so since his face was thin. The man had the look of a knight; he was wearing chain mail with a faded scarlet cloak draped over his shoulders and chest that bore his emblem, a lion standing on its hind legs and clutching a viper in one paw.
"N-n-no, ah, uh, where am I anyway?" Jack stammered, hastily picking himself up from the mud.
"Are you mad? This is England, God save our King," the man said, bowing his head humbly at the mention of the King.
"Whoa, wait. How'd I get in England? I went to sleep in Manhattan, how the heck did I end up here?" Jack asked, becoming panicked.
The knight looked at Jack with scrutiny. "What Manhattan do you speak of, boy? Surley I know of no such place."
"It's 1899, dimwit, everybody knows about New Yawk!"
Squinting, the knight replied, "1899? Ah, no, but 'tis the year of our Lord, 1231. And what is this...New Yawk...you speak of?"
Jack's eyes widened. Boy, Kloppman's dinner of pork and beans HAD done a number on him! "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Nothing uncommon. These streets are nearly made completely of vomit and waste. Quite revolting, I must say," the knight said, wrinkling his nose.
"That's it," Jack said, "I really am gonna be sick."
"No time, lad, for I have chosen you for a mission."
"Wha?" Jack asked, turning slightly green.
"Yes, lad, a mission. You see, I hunt and kill dragons for sport."
"Dragons?" Jack choked.
Rolling his eyes, the knight replied, "Yes, dragons. What did you think I hunted? Goats? Wombats? Anyway, I am climbing the age ladder, so to speak, and I need a young apprentice to kill the dragons for me. I will pay you, of course, but you must let me take all the credit!"
Jack looked at the man like he was crazy. "I don't even know your name, and youse askin' me to kill dragons fer ya?"
"Oh! I do apologize. I am Sir Heinekin."
"That's a beer."
"No, that's my name. Sir Albert Windsor Abu Heinekin."
"Abu?"
Sir Heinekin glared at Jack. "Ask no questions."
Jack nodded, wary of this Abu fellow.
"Come with me," Sir Heinekin commanded. He whipped his horse and sped off, leaving Jack standing there, covered in mud, wondering how he was supposed to follow.
After a moment, Sir Heinekin returned. Sheepishly, he muttered. "Dreadfully sorry about that, lad."
Nodding, Jack hopped up onto the horse behind the knight, and the knight once again sped off. The ride was bumpy, and several times Jack thought that he would be thrown from the horse. But, the knight finally pulled the horse to a stop, and the two dismounted.
"There he is," Sir Heinekin breathed. "The dragon."
And indeed, it was a dragon. He stood proudly atop a cliff in all his majesty, his head proudly raised and his chest puffed out. "Wouldja look at that..." Jack breathed.
"Now," Sir Heinekin said, shoving a sword and shield into Jack's hands, "go kill him."
"But I - "
"GO!!!"
Very reluctantly, Jack turned and slowly headed toward the dragon. It was not until Sir Heinekin took to him with the horse whip that he sped up.
When he reached the bottom of the cliff, Jack looked up at the dragon. "Hey, you! Dragon there! Hey, ya mind comin' on down here so's I can kill ya?"
The dragon looked down at Jack and snorted, tendrils of fire shooting out of his nostrils. Jack, his voice cracking, called up, "Yeah, fight fire with fire, as I always say! C'mon, dragon! I ain't scared 'a youse! I beat Pulitzer! Yeah, that's right! I - oh, mama!"
Jack scrambled away as the dragon swooped down toward him, claws bared. It finally caught Jack up in an uncomfortable grasp. "Help! Hey, Abu - beer man! Hey! Help me! Can't ya see I'se 'bout to get torched by a dragon here?" Looking in vain for help, Jack started begging. "Please, whoever put me in this mess, get me out! I wanna go home! I'll stop wishing for Santa Fe 'cause goodness knows Manhattan's better than England! Please! I wanna go home! Ain't no place like home!"
*DISCLAIMER*
All right, I admit it: the "meat" part of the story is not my own original idea. I was inspired by the movie Dragonheart. :-D But the rest of it is mine. Hope you enjoyed it!