Attack of the Fairytale Zombies! Read Free Page B

exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I could find another artist to draw the mighty hung dragon’s final moments.”
    The boy’s eyes widened. “I’ll get my sketch pad.” He quickly exited the room.
    “That’s a good boy.” The king fondly smiled as his gaze followed his retreating son. He then turned his attention back to Barth. “He’s been wanting to sketch the dragon’s huge penis for quite some time.”
    “Your son sketches penis pictures, and you’re okay with this?” Barth asked, his voice laced with incredulity.
    The king shrugged. “This is all part of his teenage phase. I paid the therapist a great deal of money to tell me this.”
    “Does he like to paint anything else?”
    The king’s eyes lit with something akin to pride. “He’s expressed a fascination with Dilligaf’s eye. You should see the beautiful eye images he’s drawn—some with pink hues, some with bits of stubble, some with giant, oozing pustules.”
    “And I thought I had problems,” Barth mumbled.

“Is that a troll wearing a helmet?” Drag scrunched his large features while examining one of the sketches on The Artist’s tablet.
    “No, dumbass,” the teen scoffed. “It’s a penis.”
    Drag arched a massive brow. “So let me get this straight, you only draw pictures of Dilligaf’s eye and penises?”
    “Uh…yeah,” the boy answered with a sarcastic edge to his pubescent voice.
    Drag sat back and eyed Barth while thumbing toward The Artist. “This kid’s got some issues.”
    Arms crossed over his chest, Barth leaned against a tree trunk while glaring at the kid. For some reason, Barth wasn’t surprised that the offspring of the royal dickwad had issues. But he had bigger problems at the moment, like getting his friend safely out of Fairytale Kingdom before the king sent his other knights to slay him.
    The Artist bent down on one knee and extended an arm, looking as if he were about to recite an ode to Drag. “Oh, mighty dragon, rumor of your anatomy is legend. Might I have the honor of sketching an image of your monolithic penis before the dragon slayer kills you?” The teen turned toward Barth. “Or maybe you could be so kind as to cut it off after you slay him so that I might capture its final moments with my quill and paper, before his mighty penis decomposes and is ravaged by flesh eating slugs.”
    Drag’s crimson scales suddenly took on a greenish hue as his wide gaze settled on Barth. “Slay me? Sever my penis?”
    “I’m not going to slay you,” Barth groaned.
    The Artist stood and planted both hands on his hips. “But my father ordered you to.”
    “You’re not the only one who bucks the stereotype,” Barth scowled at the little freak before turning to his friend. “Drag, we have to flee the kingdom. ‘Cause if I don’t slay you, the king will just get another knight who will.”
    “Well, that sucketh muchly.” Drag folded his arms across his massive chest while pouting. “The seamstress won’t have my new gown ready for at least a week.”
    Barth rolled his eyes. “This is serious, Drag.”
    “I am being serious.” Drag stomped a foot, shaking the ground beneath them. “I hocked the last of your family’s silver to pay for it. Where do we go now?”
    “I don’t know.” Barth rubbed his chin. “I haven’t given it much thought. I’m just so mad right now. That shriveled balled bastard!” He thrust a fist into the air for emphasis. “Come on.” He motioned for Drag to lie down so he could mount his back. “Let’s go before Prince Penis rats us out.”
    Barth hoisted himself up Drag’s side using a rope. He then climbed into a saddle that looked way too small and disproportionate, more like a thumbtack on the huge dragon’s back. But rather than pretending he was a Ken Doll strapped to a horse wearing a dress, Barth held his regal head high and tried to look cool while a slight breeze whipped his dark hair around his face.
    “I won’t rat you out.” The Artist pushed his