Twisted Tales

On The Prowl

"Woah, relax there, I'm not going to attack you," I said hastily.

"Oh—Rikki, it's just you." He sighed in relief.
"What in the world are you so worked up for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. I noticed that he looks a bit ruffled, his hat slightly askew, the plumed feather looking a bit bedraggled, and a bit of a stain down the front of his doublet.
He huffed a frustrated breath. "I've been assaulted half a dozen times!"

"Assaulted?" I repeated, raising my other eyebrow.

"All these woman!" He threw out his arms to encompass the crowd around us. "No—not the women; their mothers." He glowered.
"I don't follow."
"They all keep trying to talk me into marrying their daughters! And some of them don't just try to talk me into it; they get physical about it! I've been grabbed, pushed, pinched, prodded, poked—one woman examined my teeth like I was a horse! I can't take it anymore, if one more woman tries to touch me, I'm throwing her out a window!"
"Actually, I've seen a couple of women myself who seem to be throwing their daughters at any eligible man who crosses their path. I suppose those who have given up on the prospect of hooking up with the prince are starting to feel desperate to catch the attention of literally anyone," I commented, glancing over the crowd around us.
Erik narrowed his eyes at me. "Desperate?" he repeated.
"What? Oh!" I widened my eyes at him. "Not that you're a desperate last-chance choice, of course. I'm sure you're an absolute catch for any girl who likes living completely isolated from civilization in a forest plagued by giants, eating nothing but nine-day-old pease porridge for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while you glare at her over the kitchen table."
"My forest is not plagued by giants!" Erik growled, jabbing a finger at me to drive home his point.
Before I could reply, a shrill, cooing voice rang through the air, and the blood suddenly drained out of Erik's face.
"Yoo whoo! Mister Erikson! Mister Erikson, where have you gone?"

"Quick," Erik hissed at me, grabbing me by the wrist. "Let's go, before she—"

But it was too late, the owner of the voice materialized out of the crowd like a stage magician, and spotted Erik standing there. She was in her mid-fifties, her mouse-brown hair streaked with grey, had a pair of gold wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose, and wore a dress of cream colored lace. She bustled over, a fiercely determined expression plastered all over her face.
"There you are! I thought I'd lost you for a moment there!" she admonished, waving a finger under his nose.
He smiled weakly. "Yes, so had I."

"Now where's my Giselle? She can't have gone far—what is it you said you did for a living?"

"Uh... I don't really have a steady job. I hunt dangerous creatures for money on occasion. But I don't need full time work, you see, I live in a cottage in a forest that's plagued by giants, eating mostly old pease porridge, so I don't need much income to survive."

The woman pursued her lips. "You are a bit of a fixer-upper, but I see potential! There's a diamond in the rough within you, my dear boy! How many rooms does your cottage have? Oh, it doesn't matter, we can always have another room added on for me if we need to. Giselle! Giselle, where are you? Let me have another look at your teeth, Mister Erikson; teeth are a fine indicator of health, you know."

Erik had gone a shade of pale green, and looked more as if he was about to jump out a window himself rather than start throwing any overbearing mothers out of one.

"Uh, I'm sorry," I cut in with an apologetic smile, "but I'm afraid I've claimed this next dance with Mister Erikson. Please excuse us." I dragged Erik away from the woman, leaving her gasping in 

affrontary at the snub after us.

"Rikki, thank—" he began with a deep breath of relief, but I shushed him.
"Quick, start dancing, she's still watching," I hissed, glancing at the woman over his shoulder.