There was no spectacular tactical movement. A pincer was not formed, a whistle to ‘go over to top’ was not blown, and not one life beyond the ensnared was placed in harm’s way.
“Well you sees Sar, I were going for a piddle behind that bloody big oak, an’ as I went around it I sees this wee lass, an’ then I sees this bugger with no skin on hangin’ from a bloody big branch by ‘is ankle. At first I thinks she an’ ‘im is up to some of that M&M stuff, when I realise he ain’t got no skin on, an’ she is pullin’ on a bloody great ‘orrible blood covered lookin’ cape thing over ‘er ‘ead. So, as per my military trainin’, I snuck up behind ‘er an’ gently tapped ‘er on the bollard with this rather fine bottle of somethin’ what comes from Scots Land, dragged ‘er back ‘ere, an’ Bob’s your Aunt. That’s ‘er there on the deck wearin’ the ‘orrible cape what I mentioned a minute ago Sar.” beamed Corporal Jack Smiff.
“Well done that chap there!” said the King. “However, whilst very well done, huzzah’s all round and that sort of a thing, it would appear that the gentle tap, on the ahhhh ‘bollard’ I believe was the term you so eloquently used, was ever so slightly something a bit more heavy handed than a ‘tap’ I would think.”
“You see, the last time I saw the Princess, the back of her head was rather more ‘convex’ than the exceptionally ‘concave’ version that it is now.” Explained His Royal Majesty the King to the blank faced Corporal Smiff. “Concave, means something along the lines of ‘dented inward, or a cave like hollow’, just as the back of her head now somewhat resembles. I also believe that at that time, neither of her eyes had popped out, nor was one hanging against her cheek quite so much as her left, yes my left is the same as your left, eye has managed to achieve. I actually suspect that I could now use the back of her head as a porridge bowl judging by the state of it. That said, you have indeed apprehended the vexatious rotter, albeit terminally. An extra ration of wenches to men is your reward Corporal Smiff! We’ll quarter her in the morning, and bring the bloody wife her head on a stick when we return in a week. Huzzah!”
And so, Gentle Annis, the power of the bloodied and soaking cloak coursing through her, left The Then, and started hacking at her necrobilical cord on her way to The Now.
How she laughed and laughed and laughed.
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