The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt (Part One)

The Singeing of Crispin Cherrybutt

 

Part one: Our Hero's Buns get Toasted

  

In a time long ago, and in a land far away, there lived a handsome young Knight. Fair of face and blessed with a fit and lithe young body, he was, at first sight, everything a romantic novelist, or a teller of noble tails would dream of. However, he may have possessed physical beauty, but that was were his fairy fairy tail qualities ended. In addition to dashing good looks, a Romantic Hero must have other many virtues, such as nobility, integrity, honour, chivalry and kindness, in all these areas, the young Knight was sorely lacking.

In his own mind however, he was near perfect, all that was needed he believed, was for others to know it too.

Not only was Crispin Cherrybutt the handsomest knight in the land, he was determined to prove himself to be the bravest, and he would do so by slaying the fearsome dragon which had been terrorising the local countryside.

Many brave nights had tried before him without success, but arrogant young Crispin was convinced that he would be the one to succeed where others had failed. It was with this pride and the conviction of his own superiority, that he had set out on his quest.

It had been a long journey to reach the Dragon's layer, but it would be worth it, as he stood outside the entrance to the cave where the terrible creature had made its nest, he paused to contemplate the tributes and honours he would receive when he returned with the dragon's head on the end of a pike. He was also sure he would receive a fortune in gold from the king and, in addition he it would be his right to deflower all the loveliest maidens in the kingdom.

Other knights had travelled to this same destination seeking honour and also to rid the land of a terrible menace. However, such altruistic considerations did not occur to Chrispin, he thought only of the wealth, acclaim and sexual pleasuring which success would bring him.

Yes, he thought, he would be a hero when he returned with such a trophy.

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However, the wily old dragon had other plans for the proud young Knight, rather than returning as a triumphant hero, once the beast had finished with him he would slink home as a defeated boy, with a very sore bottom.

As soon as young Chrispin set foot in the Dragon, cave, the bravado, which had powered his quest deserted him, and was replaced by nervousness and by his inflated sense of self preservation. He attempted to steel his courage by thinking of the wealth slaying the beast would bring him, and all the eager wenches who would surrender their virtue to him. However, try as he might, those prospects no longer seemed quite so attractive when they depended upon confronting a dragon. 
 

A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the tales he had heard of dragons, who, it was said, not only ate young knights like him, but cooked them alive first with their fiery breath. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he struggled to dismiss his fear. He resolved that to explore just the first chamber of the cavern, and, if he did not find the dragon there, he would leave and go home.

Crispin's nerves would be in an even worse state, and his decision to search only the outer chamber appear even less shrewd, if he had looked behind him-and seen the large scaly shape lurking in the shadows and observing his every move.

The elderly dragon had been aware of the handsome young knight's arrival since he had first ridden up to the entrance of the cave. He knew what Crispin's intentions were, as he was not the first to try, however from long experience the dragon was adept at dispatching such nuisances.

However, the dragon was in an uncharacteristically amiable mood, he had feasted well on a bullock he had taken from local farm, and did not have any desire to eat man flesh at that time. However, he was resolved to teach the young upstart a lesson he would not forget, and, being a dragon, he was well equipped to do so!

Silently, despite his size, the creature follwed the young knight as he nervously ventured further into the cave, awaiting the opportune moment to strike.

Moments later, young Crispin Cherrybutt presented the waiting dragon with the perfect opportunity, when he bent forward tp peer into one of the smaller inner chambers of the cavern.

In that far away land, following the examples set by those such as the Greeks and the Spartans, the young warrior were all but naked beneath their armour.

 Thus it was that the sight of Chrispin's perfect, shapely and hairless bare bottom thrust towards him, like a cannibal banquet, as he bent, was a dizzyingly tempting target which no self respecting dragon could resist.

The old dragon did not resist temptation for one moment, and ceasing the opportunity to teach the impertinent intruder the lesson he so dearly deserved, he breathed in, and the opening his vast jaws in a blood curdling roar, exhaled a stream of flame aimed directly at the exposed seat of the arrogant young nuisance in front of him. Striking right on the tight divide in the middle, and spreading across each bare cheek. 

As the flames hit his tender skin, Crispin let out an ear-splitting shriek of agony, and leaped three feet into the aim clutching at his toasted buns. The pain was like something he had never experience before, and he instantly knew, without looking round what had caused it.

He spun round and saw what he had known would be there, and it was even more fearsome than he could have imagined. The dragon stared back at him, and its jaws twisted into what Crispin was convinced was a cruel and sardonic grin of satisfaction.

Crispin did not waste a moment, and with the terror enhancing his already outstanding agility, he dodged past the dragon, and ran full pelt out of the cave still clutching his dragon's breath seared bottom.

The dragon let out a second roar and shot out another fiery stream of flame, which despite Crispin's swift and greyhound attempt to avoid it, succeeded in singeing Crispin's fingers and the tops of the insides of his thighs.

With the speed of the athlete he was, Crispin ran out of the cave and over to where he had tethered his steed.

The dragon did not follow, he was too full of fattened bullock to run after a healthy young buck, and anyway his intention had only been to scare the impudent boy away, and leave hima token to remember him by.

Crispin would certainly never forget the dragon and his well singed bottom would keep the memory fresh for days to come. He had a two and a half day ride home ahead on him, and he would feel every bump.

As the tears of pain and humiliation rand down Crispin's still devastatingly handsome face and he strained every muscle in an impossible attempt to keep his sore and well scorched bottom from contacting with with the hard and sun heated saddle, he could not have known that his painful adventures had only just begun.

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Notes: i) Part one was inspired by regular reader Sammie.

ii) This story is by way of an intermission, “The Shaman's Revenge will continue soon.

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