Help! I was Supposed to Assassinate the Dark Sorcerer Kahn Huzbard but I Slept Through my Clepsydra’s Alarm

Ed Scherrer

                Big fuck up on my part, people. My damn clepsydra was supposed to sprinkle water onto my face and wake me up but the perfidious wizard Khan Huzbard sent an enchanted mongoose into my tent and the lanky animal’s musk turned my face into a mask of insensate bronze (on which the tinkle of water had no perky effect). Only when the crimson light of dawn licks the crocodile’s dagger, bestowed by the luminous Princess Kaur, can its curved blade effectively jugulate Huzbard and turn him into a writhing fount of gore. But according to the obelisk’s shadow it’s now—oh, fuck me, really? And by now Kahn Huzbard’s scaly skin is surely as impermeable as his seven hearts are black and I’m pretty much SOL. Upon my albino camel I will fly to the catacombs and surely find that Kahn Huzbard has opened the gates of the shadow realm and fulfilled his terrible destiny. Sigh. I just hope one of my team members, maybe Karen—or the new guy, what’s his name, he like the Detroit Lions, Todd, got to the office on time and managed the presentation without me. Alas, according to their wretched soul-screams that burst from my enchanted talisman, I’m a real piece of shit that can’t be counted on for anything. 

Ed Scherrer lives in Toronto where malevolent forces beyond his control wreak havoc on his career.

©2018 HighShelfPress. 

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