The Best Years of Our Lives
Chapter 7: Blast from the Past
People blinked. People blinked again. And then people fainted.
Why, you ask? Well, wouldn't you if you saw what they had seen? Oh, right, keep your shorts on, let me clear that up for you.
Alanna's prank was, in deed, the best ever. Jon for one was surprised, he felt he was justified in not expecting much considering her last idea had involved large amounts of frogs, and large amounts of important people. Gary and Raoul were just delighted. It really was the best ever. Far better than the time they had- actually, it would probably be better to stay on topic.
Any way, walking up to the front of the mess to get their trays were Jonathan of Conte, Gary the Younger of Naxen, Raoul of Goldenlake, and Alan of Trebond. Yes, I said Alan, and no, I'm not out of my mind. You see, this was a very ingenious prank; one that involved copious amounts of magic. But considering the looks on people's faces it really was worth it.
Poor Padraig haMinch keeled over into his generous portion of mashed potatoes, narrowly missing a pitcher of gravy on his way down. After all, it wasn't every day the king, prime minister, leader of the king's army, and the king's champion walked through the mess as children.
Alanna, sorry, Alan, took a tray, smiling sweetly at the cook, who took a nervous step back. The other three followed suite, stifling giggles. They had to make this authentic, it just wouldn't work right otherwise. Sooner or later, they would start doubting their minds if all went well, they would think they were either a) seeing things, or b) had been hallucinating their entire lives. Hopefully, it would be the second.
Sliding onto a bench, Alan tentatively speared a carrot on his fork, and sniffed it. Making a face, he put it in his mouth and swallowed. Gary rolled his eyes. "You really oughta learn to chew Alan, it could save your life someday." He said dryly, watching as Alan repeated this exercise several times, until all of his vegetables were gone.
Alan shrugged. "I haven't choked yet, have I?" He moved onto his potatoes, poking them carefully before putting any in his mouth. You might feel that he was overly suspicious of the food, considering the lack of hesitation the other pages were displaying, but that's only because I haven't told you about the time Jon hid rocks in his meat pie.
Gary sighed, tapping his fingers on the table to get Alan's attention back, fighting the temptation to strangle the boy and choke him himself. But that wouldn't do anyone any good, so he settled for digging his nails deep into his palm. "That really isn't the point. You only need to choke once, and it won't happen again."
"Why? Because I'll be more careful after that?" Alan snorted. "Doubtful."
"No." Gary told him, chewing his own carrots carefully, making a rather deliberate point. "Because you'll be dead."
Jon snorted into his potatoes, unable to contain his laughter any longer. Alan looked up from his own potatoes, which were rapidly disappearing, and raised an eyebrow suggestively. The laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit, and Alan returned to his food, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Jon was slowly turning redder and redder. Gary, who just happened to glance at his cousin, reached over to pound him on the back, never pausing in his lively discussion with Raoul about the suspicious color of the peas.
They didn't appear to notice the eyes of everyone in the room on them. That, or they didn't care. Knowing them, it was probably the second.
After dinner, our heroes gathered together to wander the palace. They still had to plan revenge on Lord Wyldon. They couldn't just let him get away with this, this, blasphemy! Er, I mean, outrage. Right, that's it, outrage. Not blasphemy, it's not like they saw themselves as gods or anything…
"Oh he is going to regret the day he messed with us!"
"Alanna-"
"Alan! It's Alan!"
"Alright then, Alan-"
"What?! Can't you see I'm busy making Evil Plans?!"
"Alan!-"
"Quiet! I'm bus- OW!!"
Jon, Gary, and Raoul watched nervously as Alan fell down the flight of stairs. Undoubtedly, they were going to be blamed for this unfortunate turn of events. They were married, they knew how it went.
All three winced in unison when there was a final thud, and then, silence.
"Damn the stairs! DAMN ALL THE STAIRS!" A voice from somewhere down far below them hollered.
Jon turned to Gary and Raoul, his eyes wide. "D'you think that spell affected he-his," he corrected himself hastily, glaring at Gary when he opened his mouth to comment on his slip before continuing. "his mind too?"
Gary shook his head. "Nah, she's always been like that. It might have gotten yours though, you of all people should know that, considering you were the one who was in love with her."
"Why was that again?" Jon muttered quietly to himself as he glanced down the stairs where a redheaded speck was picking itself up and dusting itself off. That really was quite a long fall, now that he looked again, there had to be at least thirty steps there… He shrugged, they had tried to warn him, he had just been too busy making Evil Plans. He hoped they hadn't fallen out of his head when it knocked against the marble, they needed to get Wyldon back now, before their intelligence was sucked out of them by their current environment.
Come to think of it, that might have already happened.
As the aforementioned redheaded speck began to work its way back up the stairs, Jon began to tick things off on his fingers. One, they had gotten into a fight in Math class. Two, they had caused several of the pages to resort to self mutilation to escape their company. Three, they had found much delight in antagonizing Myles. Four, they had whipped the pages in the training yard. And five, and this was the worst in his mind, they had gone along with another of Alanna's crazy schemes. No matter how great this prank was, they couldn't just ignore the fact that the last time they had played a prank, they had ended up as pages.
A loud crash distracted Jon from his check list and he glanced down the stairs again.
He sighed. So much for that then. It looked as though they were going to have to resign themselves to spending the rest of their lives as pages. This depressing thought was only consolidated by the fact that Alan appeared to have just started a fistfight with a suit of armor. And the armor appeared to be winning.