Getting kidnapped by a princess was the pinnacle of humiliation.
STOP! This story won’t make much sense unless you’ve read How to Kill a King. It might not make sense after
Fighter jets circle the airport every spring to protect passenger planes. Most dragons won’t fly above ten thousand feet, so defense is only required during takeoff and landing. Dragons are a protected species. While it is illegal to shoot them down, it is acceptable to scare them off with a warning shot. Usually this is sufficient. Usually.
“I blame myself really,” Fausta recalled. “The first was carrying me off after our wedding celebration, when he tripped and landed on my knife. The second died during our wedding feast when I accidentally spilled hemlock juice in his drink, and the third died of a heart attack after our vows. I don’t blame myself for that one, he was a very old man. It was just luck, I suppose.”
“You have beautiful hair!” She noticed. “It’s so soft and shiny, like in a shampoo commercial!” Her fellows all agreed—all the elves, both short and tall, agreed. Even by elvish standards, Sertraline had amazing hair. That’s why they made him king.
Dave was rushed to the Mackerel Valley Emergency room. He’d been walking across the bridge on his way to work
Shortly thereafter Lysander the Conqueror became a victim of a horrible accident. A knife fell on him while he was sleeping.
Julie’s heart was pounding. Butterflies fluttered in her chest. She’d lost her concentration. She forgot to put espresso in an old professor’s drink, and added it to a small child’s chocolate milk instead. She wrote the wrong name on almost every cup, even misspelling the name Ed.
“AS A REMINDER, THIS IS A COMPLETELY FULL FLIGHT! SO IF YOU ARE A WOMAN PLEASE SCRUNCH UP AS TIGHT AS POSSIBLE TO AVOID ACCIDENTALLY BRUSHING THE MOIST MAN FLESH SEEPING OVER YOUR ARMREST!”