Sir James the Mighty

Sir James was drinking from his goblet when he heard the ferocious roar of the dragon. Surely this was a noble mission that only a brave knight, like James, could accept. It was in his creed to defend the citizens of Living-Roomvandia from dangerous creatures. Equipped in full body armor, he slid on his helmet, grabbed his mighty sword, and strode bravely from his home in the Kitchen.

The pot atop his head flopped and he had to keep his chin pointed out to prevent it from falling off. The cardboard box worn around his torso, with arm and neck holes cut out, was badly beaten, for he played this game many times, challenging countless mighty foes. Despite the raggedness of his armor, his trusty blade was sharp and strong as ever.

Sneaking into the dragon’s lair, he was fortunate to catch it napping. The crimson creature had its wings wrapped around it and long neck curled with its chin tucked into its yellow breast. He knew that any sudden movement could awaken the beast, so he crept silently. Alas, one of the dragon’s minions pounced from his rear!

“Fluffy, get out of here!” Jimmy yelled at the cat. It purred as it rubbed against his leg. He poked it sharply with the wooden sword. Fluffy squealed and ran out of the room.

This disturbance awoke the fierce creature, and James had no choice but to defeat it head on.

“Attack!” he shouted.

The dragon’s jaw snapped down at him, but he rolled to the left and avoided the flesh-tearing teeth. He quickly popped to his feet, sword before him, ready to strike. He waited for an opening, hoping to counter-attack next time the dragon dove at him. The magnificent beast rose to its rear legs, towering above James, and spread its wings, hissing fire at him.

“It won’t end here,” James reassured himself.

The dragon released a roar that shook the cave walls, causing debris to rain down from the ceiling, then bomb-dove at the small human. Anticipating this move, James tucked into a ball as he summersaulted forward, sprung out of his coiled sphere, and thrust upward at the dragon’s canary stomach, piercing the thick scales. The beast cried and tumbled to the ground, dead on impact.

James sighed in relief, but it was too soon, for just then an evil troll entered the lair. James, spun to face it, sword readied.

“James Francis Smith! What do you think you are doing?” the gruesome fiend bellowed. “You have destroyed that couch cushion!”

James recognized that this troll was too tough to defeat and prepared to flee. He scanned the area for the easiest route of escape, then blast from his spot.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the ugly troll screamed and scooped him up into its arms. “You are getting punished, you little brat.”

He tried desperately to defend himself, swinging his sword and hitting the troll’s arm. It cried out in agony.

“Now you’re gonna get it,” she yelled, holding his wrist with her good hand. She ripped the sword from his small hands and threw him to the ground. “You need to learn a damn lesson. You are too old to be playing these stupid games.”

She whipped the wooden plank at his bottom, stinging it and causing tears to burst from his eyes. And she did it again. And again. And repeated smacking him until Sir James the Mighty was once again Jimmy, the Weakling.