Richard Ayoade's Disenchantmentplace

Chapter 29

Everyone was jolted awake as the chariot came to a sudden stop, causing them to tumble and fall over each other.

Turbish: Welcome to Dreamland, folks! Thanks for riding the Turbish Express.

Y/n: (rubbing their head) Well, that was quite the wake-up call. Remind me to leave a bad review on the Turbish Express.

Merkimer: Finally, we're back! Move aside, little piggy needs to pee. (pushes past Turbish)

Turbish winced in pain, arrows sticking out from all over his body.

Bean: Oh, Turbish, how thoughtful of you to provide us with such a warm welcome.

Turbish: I'm not kneeling, I'm dying.

Bean: Wait a minute. (steps on Turbish) And what the hell is that weird green smoke?

Y/n: (sarcastically) Ah, the unmistakable aroma of impending doom. Just another day in Dreamland.

Luci handed Bean a pair of binoculars.

Luci: Here, stole 'em from Odval. Take a look, Princess.

Bean: Look, just beyond Mount Onnimois.

Luci: Hey, everyone, no need to worry. It's probably just an army marching here to slaughter all of you. I'm gonna grab a snack. By the way, do I look fat? Well, you do. (walks off while singing) Yeah, you're gonna die soon.

Elfo: But who would want to attack Dreamland? Besides Bentwood, Dankmire, or Steamland? Oh, and those teenagers we accidentally ran over a while back.

Y/n: (chuckles) Ah, the wonders of diplomacy and friendly relations.

Merkimer: You know, for a girl your age, you sure have an impressive number of enemies. Neither of us is fit to lead. You can't even keep track of your own boots. I miss footwear.

Bean: Maybe I'm not destined to lead.

Luci: Or capable of leading.

Elfo: Or equipped to lead.

Y/n: (playfully) Or crazy enough to lead. Guess I'm just the wrong type of crazy.

Bean: The last thing this kingdom needs is more chaos.

They gathered their thoughts, ready to face the approaching threat to Dreamland, realizing that perhaps the realm could do without their unconventional leadership.

Bean: Uh-oh, here we go again with Zøg's honking madness. It's like living in a never-ending symphony of lunacy. Guess my dear father couldn't resist adding his special touch to the chaos.

Y/n: Ah, the delightful serenade of Zøg's honking. It truly warms the heart and melts the sanity.

(Scene cuts to Odval and Zøg in the throne room)

Odval: Alright, Zøg has finally ceased his honking. He's either in a deep slumber or brewing a storm of quiet rage. Now, Abner, it's your moment to shine. Sneak into the roast poodle, just close enough to get a whiff of that "delicious" aroma, but be cautious not to get too close. We all know how Zøg can devour an entire cushion in his sleep. Then, make your swift escape. Are you ready? Oh, and have you made peace with your last will and testament? Excellent. Off you go.

Odval ushers Abner into the throne room with Zog

Zøg: (from inside the room) Hold on a minute! This isn't the taste of poodle. It's more of a Shih Tzu flavor!

Abner: (from inside the room, panicked) No! Please, not the catapult!

Odval opens the door, and the roast and Abner are launched out of the window. Turbish awaits outside.