Patrick Ness - The Crash of Hennington

Queen Rhonda immediately accepted the gift of the male and female rhino, and offered her kingdom’s hospitality to King Rufus while the details of the armistice were worked out. One day later, the Queen, with Rufus’ permission, also ordered her lawyers to draw up a pre-nuptial agreement. They attended feasts together, hosted parties welcoming delegates from Rufus’ kingdom, and generally spent a lot of time staring into each other’s eyes and sighing.

But all was not well. There was a wizard in Rhonda’s court named Ted. (—Ted? —Yes, Ted. — Ted the Wizard? —Yes, may I continue?) Ted had never loved Rhonda but had arranged with her father at her birth to be the one to marry her when she reached adulthood. Fortunately for Rhonda, her father had died when she was a child, also fighting the war like King Rufus’ father. (—Aw, Dad. —It’s just a fairy tale, honey. Don’t worry.) By the time Rhonda came of age, she had exercised her queenly powers to have the agreement with the wizard voided, for she had no desire whatsoever to marry a man who was only interested in her power. She regarded him as more annoying than evil, though, so she kept him around and had ceased giving him much thought after the matter was settled.

Ted hadn’t forgotten though, and when he learned of the wedding plans of Rufus and Rhonda, he finally realized his chance for revenge. Working with all the black magic at his command, calling on all the evil forces he knew or was at least acquainted with, using every last magic chemical he had in his storehouse, every trick he ever learned, he cooked up an evil curse. Revenge would be his.

The wedding day arrived, sunny but cool. Nearly every resident of both kingdoms had crowded onto a huge field to watch the ceremony. Even the male and female rhino were present, chewing happily away on the grass. Rhonda the Stout stoutly rhondled her way down the aisle to her awaiting groom. Rufus had been cleaned up for the occasion and swept up his bride-to-be for a pre-ceremonial kiss.

This was where Ted popped in.

‘STOP!’ he cried with a booming voice. ‘I, Ted the Splendid, curse this union.’

There were gasps among the guests. Rhonda wasn’t impressed.

‘What is it now, Ted?’ she asked.

‘I curse this union thusly,’ said Ted. ‘Marry if you will, love if you will, rule if you will, but kiss at your peril.’

‘Meaning …?’ Rhonda said.

‘If you kiss the lips of your beloved,’ said Ted, ‘both of you will transform immediately and forever into rhinoceros, of the type that brought this cursed union together in the first place.’

‘You can’t do that, Ted,’ said Rhonda.

‘Oh, but I can, Your Majesty. And have done.’

‘Ted, as Your Sovereign,’ said Rhonda, ‘I command that you lift this curse.’

‘Too late, Your Majesty,’ said Ted. ‘What’s done cannot be undone.’

With that, he let out an evil wizardly laugh and disappeared in a plume of foul-smelling green smoke.

Rufus and Rhonda didn’t know what to do. They were standing at the altar, waiting to consummate their vows, and bring peace at last to the Southern and Northern cities. Thousands of expectant faces watched silently as Rufus and Rhonda stared into each other’s eyes.

‘What should we do?’ asked Rufus.

‘There seems to be only one thing we can do,’ said Rhonda.

They kissed. (—Oh!) In a flash, where the King and Queen were standing, there were suddenly two rhinoceros, face-to-face, each with a crown hooked over their respective horns. Slowly, they turned to face the crowd, and without a word, for everyone knows rhinos can’t speak, they walked back up the aisle, pausing only to be joined by the male and female rhino already present. The two kingdoms watched as the four rhinoceros ambled for the horizon and set to grazing.

The townsfolk stood in silence for a while. Nobody knew what to do. Then someone from the South remembered that Northerners were said to go to the bathroom where they slept, and the Southerner felt the need to mention this to a Northerner nearby. Then someone from the North remembered that Southerners were supposed to have scars on their backsides from having their tails cut off when they were babies, and the Northerner felt compelled to ask a Southerner to show it to him. Then someone from the North spat on someone from the South. Then someone from the South slapped someone from the North.

A new battle began that day, one so intense that King Rufus and Queen Rhonda and the other two rhinos were forgotten. When one hundred years had passed and the new, even-worse war had destroyed both kingdoms so thoroughly that even their histories had been erased, no one among the few remaining survivors could remember where the wandering crash of rhinoceros had come from. The end.

—So but wait. Is that where The Crash comes from?

—No, sweetie, I just made that up. It’s as true as any other story, though, I suppose.

—Why did Rufus and Rhonda kiss each other?

—I guess they loved each other so much they would rather have spent their lives as rhinos than not be able to kiss.

—But rhinos can’t kiss.

—Says who?

—But didn’t they know about the war starting up again?

—Probably.

—But didn’t they have a duty to their kingdoms, then?

—Yes, but it’s a moral question. Which is more important? Love or peace?

—What’s the answer?

—That’s the whole point, there is no answer.

—How is that supposed to make me sleep? I’m going to be up all night debating love versus peace. I’m ten , Dad. I have no idea.

—Okay, what about this one? ‘There was once a chipmunk named Terry who was having trouble getting his library card renewed—’

—Good night, Dad.

—Oh, good, a laugh at least. Are you feeling better?

—A little.

—Think you can sleep?

—I think so.

—Okay, baby. Do you want me to stay with you a while until you do?

—Yes.

—My pleasure, honey.

—Archie! Good to see you.

—That’s overly solicitous for you, Cora. Is something wrong?

—Not even a moment for pleasantries, huh?

—Don’t tell me. The Boy Prince is a no-show yet again.

—Why weren’t you a detective, Archie?

—Because I preferred to be rich. What’s his excuse this time?

—His daughter’s sick.

—If it’s anything less than plague, I’m not buying it.

—It’s Pox.

—Did she get the shots?

—Yes.

—Then he could have gotten a sitter.

—Archie—

—I left my kids home on plenty of nights when business called.

Another voice came in from behind.

—It’s a different day and age than when we were young, Archie.

—I’m thirty years older than you, Albert. There’s no ‘we’ involved at all, though I suppose you knew of this conspicuous absence as well.

—Family called, apparently, and it’s actually thirty-one years. But how are you this fine evening?

—My arches are falling.

—Isn’t that the first line of a sonnet?

Cora took Archie by the arm.

—Come. Eat something. You’ll be happier.

—Oh, yes, why don’t you rub my belly and tell me I’m a good dog while you’re at it.

—Has that been the secret all along?

—What’s to stop me from just going straight back home?

—Archie, please. Now the situation is this.

—Would you get me a whiskey, Albert?

—Straight up but very, very cold, if I remember correctly.

—Good lad.

—The situation, as I said.

—Yes, get on with it.

—Is that Max isn’t here because his little girl is sick. None of these people are really here to see him anyway. They all want to hobnob with me.