A DISSERTATION REGARDING THE CRUCIALITY OF ABBREVIATION IN FINE ART

Here is what we must discuss. You see, when telling any narrative so intoxicating as this, the bloviator must take care not to indulge to excess in the ecstasy of words, for example, not to stuff up the listeners' ears with long-winded asides, nor to abuse a dictionary by incorporating vocabulary of an obnubilizing nature, and (above all), not to be repetitious, pleonastic, or repetitive, nor to wallow in any prolix abuse of a thesaurus. It is for this reason that the phrase 'it is the special power of' (a rather long-winded construction which has reared its head several times in this narrative) must be smushed. From this moment forward, the phrase, 'it is the special power of' shall be abbreviated to the acronym MOUCH.

So, when I tell you that the admiral won the raccoon chase because MOUCH the admiral that he cannot be defeated in any contest involving raccoons, you must understand that this is not a disgusting and frankly criminal mutilation of syntax, but an elegant solution to a literary quandary that would have stymied a less precise subwoofer than myself.

Now, while we have been enthralled in these essential matters, the admiral has lost the spelling bee because MOUCH Dakiya to be pretty okay at spelling, but Dakiya has lost the dance-off (even though MOUCH Dakiya that she can dance with her hands bound) because MOUCH the admiral to know that MOUCH the pirate king to dance better than anybody in any universe, and the admiral was cunning enough to claim the pirate king as his dance partner.

"Hey, Papa!" Dakiya shouts, as Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth spins through his final pirouette, "Don't make me lose! We'll both die!"

But Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth says, "Never fear."

Then Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth smiles.

"I know that you'll win," Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth says.

Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth pauses.

Then Bongolabongola Balongo Balongolus Bolololongolalolus Blonogo-Blongo Balongollia the seventeen-thousand-and-seventeenth continues, "I have confidence in you, my daughter, because MOUCH Dakiya to win my pride forever."

(Thank goodness for that abbreviation).

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THE LAST THREE ROUNDS

Dakiya, now behind by one point, holds a whispered council with her friends inside of a muffin shop built into the gallows platform.

In the dim light of the shop's closet, where chinks of dawn stream through to stripe the faces of the whisperers, the atmosphere is one of cold rationality and hard facts. Dakiya has only three competitions left to choose, and she must win two. With her friends' help, she concocts three foolproof plans to bring the admiral down, and then the four conspirators emerge back into the breeze and the sunshine, and Dakiya crosses the platform and thrusts her defiant chin at the enemy: "I challenge you to a contest… of surviving point-blank cannonfire to the chest!"

The admiral raises his brows mildly, examining his nails.

"And then," Dakiya continues, "the next contest will be the same, but with your face!"

The admiral frowns and shrugs. Dakiya frowns also, taken aback by his unconcern. "Wait," she says, "can I change it?"

"Do whatever you like."

Hannet grabs her, hissing, "No, he's bluffing!"

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Ayavail nods wide-eyed. "There's no way he's a pirate."

"But," Dakiya says, "what if he keeps his vital organs in his feet?"

"He probably doesn't," Ayavail guesses (baselessly) and Hannet agrees.

Dakiya squints at the admiral, looking for the telltale doughiness of a brainless skull. "Hmm, well alright," she tells him, "The third and final round will be a cannon shot to… whatever part you need most."

"Done!" the admiral says, beaming and bounding to his feet. His assistants wheel up a trio of cannons, and Dakiya walks in front of each in turn, bouncing a cannonball off of her chest, then her face, and then her stomach.

"Now you!" Dakiya shouts, drawing out her four-hundred-ton cannon. "Still feeling nonchalant, you varlet?"

"Oh I am bursting with nonchalance," the admiral says, pressing his chest to the barrel. Dakiya fires.

The admiral waves barrel-smoke away from his nose, coughing. "Dreadful stuff. Unhealthy, I am sure."

Dakiya gasps, then reels to stare at her friends, who gape back at her.

"T-try again?" Ayavail ventures.

Hannet agrees, "Peradventure that was a faulty cannonball."

Dakiya aims the cannon at the admiral's face, but finds him headless. On closer inspection, she sees that he has withdrawn his head, turtle-like, down inside his coat.

"A-ha!" she crows. "It's that coat!"

"I won't take it off!" the admiral insists, his voice muffled amid blue silk and jingling telescopes. "The rules don't say I have to take it off!"

"We'll see about that!" Dakiya says. She pulls out the dueling rulebook (all eleven thousand volumes), and begins skimming through the entries, passing by 'Restrictions on Intrigues Related to Raccoons' (they'd broken most of those) and 'How to Dismantle a Robotic Brontosaurus' (they'd broken all of those). At last, beside a recipe for sentient eggnog, she finds the entry on 'Cannon Challenges: Rules of Ethics and Decorum'. She reads aloud, "All participants must remove any clothing of protective value, unless they are the admiral of the imperial navy…" She gasps. "You wrote this, didn't you!"

The admiral cackles inside his coat. "Fools! I shall be the Emperor of All That Is!"

Since the admiral is blinded by his coat, Dakiya takes the chance to stuff the barrel of the cannon with burning chandeliers. She fires, and the admiral's coat is incinerated in a gush of flame.

Hopping and howling, he tears out of the blazing garment and dances free in his nightgown and boots, revealing that beneath his coat, his wife had been clinging protectively to his chest and head.

Dakiya spits acid in frustration, "You're married?"

"How dare you ask that!" he retorts, "I sent you twelve million invitations! It was only last week!" He gestures at the Snow King's palace, which looms above them amid the fourteen-thousand-foot mountains. "I met her while we were intriguing in the Raccoon Court! She's a beautiful person, a philosopher, a nun… and a pirate!"

"She's a marmot!" Dakiya objects.

"Details!" he scoffs. "If you had wished to raise the issue, you should have bothered to show up at the ceremony! I had a cake of iced whiskey made just for you!"

"Really?" Dakiya presses both hands to her heart. "You did that… for me?"

"It was as large as a schoolbus," the admiral moans, clasping his hands together. "I had to eat it all myself. I nearly died."

"Would you regurgitate it for me?"

"Of course. Of course."

(MOUCH everyone in this world that they can regurgitate any food and it will emerge in pristine condition: perfectly clean, perfectly fresh, and very, very warm).

After Dakiya enjoys the cake, she feels poisoned, and she murmurs, "That cake… It was a cake… of betrayal!"

"HAhahaaa!" the admiral screams with giggles, "I would have died a thousand times if I'd really eaten it! But I purposely didn't digest even a single calorie! I've kept my stomach especially clenched the entire week!"

"I was going to have mercy on you," Dakiya growls (forgetting that she absolutely wasn't) "but now I'll make you take that cannon-shot after all." Feebly, she pats the barrel of her cannon. "Whatever part you need most, put it here."

"My wife is my better half," the admiral says, and his marmot wife nods slyly, removes her pirate hat with a flourish, and steps in front of the cannon.

"Is she really…" Dakiya begins, panting, "…the most important part of you?"

The admiral gazes upward in a shaft of light, murmuring, "I would take a cannonball for her… If she weren’t immune."

With a sigh, Dakiya fires the cannon.