The Ill-mannered Door (humorous sci-fi)

28.1: Dare to Hope

I awoke to the feel of the sun burning my skin, and the sound of the surf pounding upon the shore nearby.

Opening my sand encrusted eyelids, I tried to sit up, but the aches all over my body suggested rather persuasively that I should rest up a bit before giving that another go. So, I settled for trying to survey my immediate surroundings.

I found myself on the beach, though given the distance from the water and the rather obvious path in the sand that led from the water to my current position, it appeared that there had been some human intervention to get me to my current, but thankfully not final, resting place.

Derek! Where was Derek? I started to look about somewhat frantically before I heard the sound of someone approaching, and from behind me his familiar voice said, "I hate to interrupt your little beach day, but we should get moving, eh?"

"Oh, yes, of course," I said with a groan as I sat up. "Be with you in just a moment."

Derek then said, "I found a path that looks like it winds its way up the cliff behind us. I think that will get us back up near the Ministry of Wisdom.

"Derek, you pulled me from the ocean! That must mean you don't want to kill me!" I said, then grinned up at him like a simpleton.

"Still thinking about that one," Derek said, narrowing his eyes. "But I sure wasn't going to let the ocean rob me of the chance."

"Oh. Well, thank you..." I managed before trailing off into another groan as I struggled to my now bare feet and shambled after him toward the cliff.

All I had left on were my decidedly soiled jim-jams, and while I took some pride in the fact that I hadn't soiled them, that river of refuse had certainly done a thorough job on my behalf. I had lost my dressing-gown, my dignity, and my slippers. Perhaps my mind as well, but the jury was still out on that one. Actually, my brain reminded me helpfully that I had lost my slippers quite some time ago to the king. A fact which still chafed in much the same way that the sand did in nearly every orifice of my bruised body, but now I had lost the king's old slippers as well, the king's castoffs, which Derek had given me as a sort of consolation prize.

As God is my witness, I would get my fuzzy ducky slippers back from that royal slipper pincher.