I hope the FBI is keeping an eye on the fellow who writes the web site to which I’ve linked above, because he makes the Unabomber sound quite sensible. I also [...]]]> Although God had clearly outlined His plans to kill 500,000 people in southwestern California yesterday, He must have changed His mind at the last minute.

I hope the FBI is keeping an eye on the fellow who writes the web site to which I’ve linked above, because he makes the Unabomber sound quite sensible. I also hope the FBI is keeping an eye on God, just in case the other guy is right about all the terrorist threats in the Bible.

I struggled to rise from my [...]]]> I knew it was broken when she bolted upright and blinked a couple of times. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, looked at it, looked at me, and asked, “Who the hell are you?” Before I could answer, she shouted, “Goddamn! I have such a headache!”

I struggled to rise from my kneeling posture by her side. “Your highness, I come—”

“Is there nothing to eat around here? Can’t someone bring me something to eat?”

The servants I’d seen posed around the edges of the room like a wax-museum display when I first strode into the chamber had been pantomiming purposeful activity since I awakened their mistress. Now they leapt into a flurry of movement.

The statuesque blonde pounded a delicate fist into one of the pillows of brocaded crimson silk propped behind her, then shook her head in disgust.

I tried again to draw her attention. “I come from the far reaches of your kingdom—”

“Dolores! Where is Dolores?” screeched the ill-mannered maiden.

A gray-haired maid with a harried expression scurried forward. She straightened the seams of her uniform and curtseyed before the woman on the chaise.

“Yes, madame?”

“Why do you hide from me when you know I’m looking for you? Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait for you? Fetch me something to eat!”

“I was just going to the kitchen for your tea, madame. Of course not, madame. Yes, madame!” said Dolores.

The princess’ voice became more shrill every time she opened her mouth. “And call for my physician! This goddamn splinter in my finger is killing me.”

The maid backed away, stopping to curtsey again every three or four steps, until she disappeared through the double doors at the far end of the chamber.

As the heir apparent to an old and noble line, I was unaccustomed to the dismissive treatment I’d had so far. But this lovely creature had a reputation for grace and poise. Surely it was only the shock of the ordeal she’d been through that brought on this coarse behavior. I thought perhaps it was an appropriate time to make proper introductions, now that her most immediate needs were being addressed.

“I realize, your highness, that you haven’t eaten in a long time. You must be quite famished. While your staff prepare something for you to eat, may I offer you greetings from—”

“You again! What are you doing here? Well, come on, say something. Are those flowers for me? Did I dream it, or did you actually have the nerve to kiss me? Do you have something to say, or are you just going to stand there looking stupid?”