Spoof: Lord of the Spoons

Spoof: Lord of the Spoons

Postby Xedanis » June 16th, 2018, 7:06 pm



The letters of the book’s title gleamed in the candle light as he lifted a hand to dip the quill inside the inkwell again. Every few minutes, he’d repeat the gesture. It added a rhythm to the words he laid out on the smooth, virgin parchment, enjoying each scratch and each blot as it colored the page with another word, then a phrase, then a sentence. The parchment’s untouched, unviolated face was continually filled and filled with a lengthening, deepening score of prose, and it gave him deep satisfaction and fulfilment.

He let out a sigh as he paused, and considered what to say next.

Then it came to him.

Concerning Bacon, he wrote.

He underlined the words.

Bacon is the stuff of life, especially to those who reside here in Blobbiton. Whether it’s fried, grilled, smashed into burger patties, wrapped around other meats, roasted, baked, sauteed, or fricasseed. Whether it’s maple smoked overnight for maximum smokiness and tenderness, or cooked naked over a bed of hot coals and grill iron; whether it beckons us from our beds with its mouthwatering scent, a heaven of glorious vapor that punches the divine ambrosia with a prize cut ham and glides its way into your stomach and nose with crispy, delicious abandon; whether it is the sweet tang of brown sugar or the naked allure of rindless back bacon,, belly, rasher, streaky, thick, thin… the deliciousness, the gorgeousness, the-

A large blotch of drool struck the page.

“Damn and blast it,” he said to himself irritably, blotting out the drool and drying the page as best he could, cursing his love of pig meat for ruining his masterpiece before the introduction was even finished.

He tutted and muttered irritably to himself, then decided to remedy this situation like he did with any other setback in his 30-year quest to write down his adventures.

He fixed himself a bacon sandwich.

What the hell, it worked when those damned Spoon-wraiths had come looking for his family heirloom. Apparently some tosspot in Mortoot had decided to forge himself an item of ultimate power, and cocked it up, accidentally making a spoon instead of a piece of finger jewelry.To make matters worse, the Spoon of Power had been stolen, squirrelled away to goodness-knew-where, and apparently the Lord of Mortoot had not been a happy… man? Woman? Slobbering pond monster?

There were so many unknowns about the evils of the world. He tried not to get mixed up with them. Instead he stuck to what he did know. He was Hobo Braggins, the most famous of all Bloggits ever to grace the surface of Upper-Lower-Middle-Left-West Burthington (which was called Cabbage by most of its inhabitants, for some reason.)

He also knew exactly who it was that had stolen the Spoon of Power. It was his great-uncle Bongo, who had been hell-bent on stealing the thing for reasons never revealed, and had gathered a rag-tag mob of magical eejits to assist him - but that was another poorly-inspired, Godfather-ripoff story that ended in a very ill-advised encounter with a dragon.

Hobo finished munching his bacon sandwich and returned to his desk to continue writing about his favorite food. Across the venerable old study stood a long, deep shelf that held his many coveted blogging and vlogging awards; he grinned with a twinkle in his eye as he considered the very real possibility that this chronicle would…. Rule them all.
Xedanis has been retired. This account is retained for archiving only.
Posts: 1395
Joined: January 18th, 2014, 5:42 pm
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