Smith & Jones

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 "Well, this certainly ain't Kansas," said Kris as the white light subsided, leaving her sitting upon an enormous throne in an otherwise empty room. "'Course, I'm not entirely sure why it would be Kansas, and I'm not entirely sure why I'm talking to myself, either. Surely I could simply be thinking this shit."

Kris attempted to think. She attempted to think real hard. Thing is, she found she was unable to do so for every single thought she had, she involuntarily voiced.

"Ice cream camel penne ar'arabiatta Mariella Frostrop smartphone spider monkey rain on a summer evening Swiss cheese..."

And so, because her thoughts were not thoughts but a string of meaningless words, she stopped thinking.

Doors that she had not even noticed, right down at the other end of the enormous throne room, opened, and two men strode towards her.

"Smith and Jones... ah bollocks, I could totally murder a curry." Her thoughts were vocalised once more, but soon Smith and Jones had reached the foot of the stairs atop which her throne sat.

"You two certainly look a little different," she said, and that was what she actually meant to say this time. "All muscles and scars and sweat and loin cloths..."

"Quite," said Jones." My Lady, we bring news from the battlefield. Your enemies have been put down."

"Glad to hear it," replied Kris with as thoughtful a look upon her face as she dared. "So I'm gonna' take a wild stab in the dark here and say we're in the Sword and Planet portion of the loop."

"If you say so, Majesty," said Smith. "I just hope I get to keep these rippling muscles when we move on... I'm rather looking forward to staring at myself in a mirror for hours on end."

"There aren't mirrors here?"

"That's right, My Lady," said Jones. "Your predecessor believed such things to be evil and so destroyed them all."

"But I wanted to check my hair..."

"I'm sorry, Majesty?"

"What? Oh, nothing..." Kris replied, realising that she must have unintentionally voiced her thoughts once again. "Wait... Is there something sparkly behind me?"

"Other than your throne, Majesty?" Smith asked. "I mean, it is made out of jewels and what-have-you, so sparkly is pretty much its wheelhouse."

"I don't think I like this version of you, Smith," said Kris. "In fact, as Queen I'm sure I can have you beheaded, or crucified or buried in the sand with jam smeared all over your face or something."

"Well, erm..." Smith gulped. "Yes, yes you can. All of the above would be perfectly acceptable, Majesty, though I'd rather you didn't of course!"

Kris turned her head away and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of her throne's headrest, and her mouth went agape.

"Smith, Jonesey," she said, completely forgetting that she was supposed to be a Queen. "These aren't jewels making up this throne."

"No?" Jones asked, intrigued. "What are they, if not the finest jewels this planet has to offer?"

"Power cubes, Jonesey..." Smith whispered harshly. "That bloody throne's only made out of bloody power cubes!"

"Well I'll be..."

"Is that a magic sword, Jones?"

"Probably, maybe..." the man replied. "Actually I'm afraid I can't really be sure."

"I'd never have guessed," Kris thought, then looked somewhat sheepishly at the man for although she had intended to voice that thought, the tone was well off.

"Jones, quick! The white light!" Kris yelled, visibly leaping from the throne. "Use that probably maybe magic sword and prise as many of these power cubes free as you can!"

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