The Second-Best Archer in the Forest: Three Days Rest
Comedy Short - Dale and the squire attempt science
Buzz. Buzz.
Dale approached the building, sidestepping a pile of dung. A fly circled his head.
Buzzzzzzzz.
He removed his hat and swatted it away. “Shoo you insipid beast,” Dale said. “Squire will be hearing about this.”
He mimicked the squire’s voice in a whining tone. “Meet at my house. I need to show you something.”
Another fly buzzed past.
“First and last time.”
He approached the entrance and appraised the building, then knocked.
The squire answered. “Sir, welcome. Come in. Come in.”
Dale entered the building and immediately covered his nose. “Good heavens, squire. You live in a stable?”
“It’s technically attached to the stable.”
“A horse can see you while you sleep.”
“Only if he’s facing this direction.” The squire waved a hand. “Come have a seat, can I offer you a drink?”
“Not with dysentery going around,” Dale said. “Remind me again why you couldn’t have met me at my home?”
“My mixing pot is far too heavy to carry across the village.”
Dale nodded and looked around the room, unenthused. There was a small cot in the corner. Hay covering the dirt floor. A pot boiling over a freestanding fire.
“Before we address whatever concern this is, you’ve been my squire how long now? Year? Year and a half?”
“Eight years, sir.”
“Hmm. That’s strange. I can recall a squire named Jerry a few years ago.”
“That was me, sir.”
“That explains very little,” Dale said. “Anyway. Quick question. Are these considered common living arrangements for a squire?”
“Actually, they’re quite modest, sir. Many don’t even have an overlooking horse.”
“Astonishing. I had my suspicions I was overpaying you. This confirms it.”
“You aren’t paying me at all, sir.”
“Nor should I. How embarrassing for me. A squire who can’t lift a pot across a village.” Dale took a seat at the wooden table. “Let’s get on with it. I’ll be flying Bartholomew later, and you know peregrine falcons get impatient.”
“Of course.” The squire filled a vial from the simmering pot. “This, you’ll love. I call it the Three Days Rest. A sleeping potion.”
Dale studied the vial. “How’s it work? You invite them over and share your life story?”
“Not quite, sir.” The squire set a small wooden box on the table, containing a mouse.
Dale peeked inside. “I’m hoping that’s not your breakfast.”
The squire shook his head. “No. It’s tomorrow’s.”
Dale recoiled.
“Watch this, though,” the squire said. He squeezed a small droplet onto the mouse, which immediately fell asleep.
Dale nodded, smiling. “Not bad, squire.”
“I thought you’d like it. And even more, it’s incredibly practical.”
“Practical?”
“It means useful. Like how a soup bowl’s round.”
“The potion, you clodpoll.”
“Ah yes.” The squire reached beneath the table and produced an arrow with the head removed. In its place was a small bundle of felt wrapped around the end.
“Dip the felt in the potion. Then all you need is a bit of exposed skin. An arm. A leg. The neck. A graze should do it.”
Dale’s eyes widened. “At speed?”
“Ideally.”
“Ingenious.” Dale stood. “Perhaps we need to test it on a larger… subject.”
The horse neighed. Dale looked in its direction.
“I believe your neighbor just volunteered.”
“I’d rather not. He’s quite large. I’m not sure I could drag him back into the stable.”
“You really need to lift more iron,” Dale said. “Let’s shoot out the front door then, I’m sure I can find some dolt in the distance to practice on. Perhaps that miserly baker. He always overseeds the tea-cakes.”
They stepped into the doorway.
“There,” Dale said, pointing across the village. The baker was unloading flour from a wagon. “Marvelous timing.”
Dale took aim. The horse neighed behind him, and a fly buzzed into Dale’s ear.
“AH!”
Dale flailed. The bowstring snapped forward. The felt-tipped arrow shot upward, struck the stable overhang, and ricocheted behind him.
Thud.
“Where’d it go?” Dale asked.
No answer.
He turned. The squire was sprawled on the floor.
Dale sighed. “Could you be more dramatic?”
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Dale still won’t.
See you soon,
—Ricky C.
This is hilarious! I read all three parts in one sitting! Even though I assume Dale is everyone’s favorite, he isn’t mine. The squire is a legend! 😆 The humor also gives me vibes of the French movie Les Visiteurs, not sure if you’ve seen it. Brilliant, and thanks for the laughs 😂
It’s rare to find a story on Substack that’s not overwritten, but your tone is hilarious. Let’s me picture the scene and not be distracted by the writing. Well written!