How to Rescue a Dead Princess

die. Poof.” He snapped his fingers, emphasizing the point a little too clearly for Randall's comfort. “You start to feel like you're floating, but there's no water or mushrooms around. You're in a long tunnel without a trace of graffiti anywhere. At the end of the tunnel is a bright light, like what you see when you get struck by lightning. And you hear a voice saying, ‘Come closer, and all will be well.’ You float toward it, and at the end of the tunnel is a big termite.”

“A termite?”

“Yeah. I mean, have you ever tried getting rid of those things? There has to be some kind of divine intervention at work. So the termite asks you if you're ready to enter the afterlife. And you say, ‘Mind if I float a little longer? This is really neat.’ But the termite says that time is short, and says that you may enter the afterlife, but first you must perform an act of penance.”

“Such as not trying to stomp on the termite?”

“Well, it's a big one. You wouldn't want to stomp it with your bare feet. Anyway, the termite says that to show your penance, you must rub your belly and pat your head at the same time.”

“That's really lame, Jack.”

“No, no, you see, it's harder than it seems, because you're ethereal, and so your hands just pass right through your belly and head. So, to get into the afterlife, you have to prove yourself worthy by going through with the bizarre sensation of putting your hand through your head.”

“I can try that bizarre sensation with a partner. Would you like to volunteer?”

“You know, these are my beliefs you're mocking,” said Jack. “If I want to believe that this is how things happen after you die, I think I'm entitled to a little respect.”

“I'm sorry. What does the termite do next?”

“I changed my mind. It's a cockroach. Those things are hard to kill, too.”

“Interesting how your beliefs in the afterlife can morph so rapidly.”

“Let me tell you something. When you're locked down here, morphing beliefs in the afterlife are all a man's got.”

“Proceed with the cockroach story.”

“Okay, once the cockroach has given you admittance, you pass through the Gateway, where your life is reviewed. If you had a good life, you return as a baby, ready to begin anew. If your life was miserable enough that the Committee decides you need a break, you move on to the next world.”

“And what's the next world?”

“Munchkin Land.”

“Okay,” Randall said, “the conversation is now over. I'll stay on my side of the cell, you stay on yours.”

* * * *

WAS THE conversation truly over?, Jack wondered as he sat on his side of the cell, making a straw castle. He couldn't tell. Randall didn't seem to be interested in continuing their discussion, and was currently sitting with his face pressed into the corner, but perhaps his social skills just needed work.

“Do you—”

“Shut up,” said Randall.

That certainly implied that no more conversation was forthcoming, but if there was anything Jack knew, it was not to jump to conclusions.

“I think—”

“Shut up,” repeated Randall.

Once again, strong evidence that the conversation was over, but most of it was circumstantial. It wasn't as if Jack could see into Randall's mind, after all. For all he knew, the poor guy could be just screaming for the conversation to continue, but didn't know how to properly express it. However, Jack did have his limits, and decided that one more rebuke would result in the official termination of the discussion.

“It—”

“Shut up.”

Then again, only wimps gave up that easily. If there was any chance, any chance at all, that Randall wished to continue the conversation, Jack was going to pursue it. That was his duty. He couldn't let Randall be taken to his death leaving unfinished business behind.

“If—”

For once, Randall didn't tell him to shut up. Instead, he removed his face from the corner, turned around, walked over, and kicked Jack in the gut. Then he returned to the corner.

The conversation was over.

* * * *

NIGHT FELL.

At least Randall thought night had fell. He couldn't tell for sure with the general lack of windows in the dungeon area. The other prisoners had gone to sleep, and only the occasional guard strolling by disrupted the complete silence.

Thump! The sound of somebody being hit. Randall sat up, listening intently.

Thump! “Hit him again!” said a familiar voice, just around the corner. Thump! Thump! Thump! “You call that a hit? Let me show you.” Thwack! “See? You need to tighten your fist more. Now you try it.” Thump! “Tighter.” Crunch! “Whoops. Was that your hand or his face?”

“My hand.”

“Sorry about that. Is he unconscious yet?” Chomp!

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Get him off me, get him off me!”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“There we go. He's unconscious now.”

“What are you guys doing down here?”

Thump! Thwack! Crunch! Chomp! Thwack! Spit! Gush!

Silence.

Then the four Ricks wandered down the aisle. “That's right,” said Roderick. “Nobody messes with us.”

“We bad,” Frederick agreed.

Randall moved over to the bars and stuck his arm through, waving frantically. “Guys! Over here!”

The Ricks hurried over to his cell. “Are you okay?” Maverick asked.

“I'm fine,” Randall assured him. “Thank goodness you guys showed up. Do you have the key to the cell?”

“Oh, we're not here for you,” said Roderick. “We want the necklace back. It was expensive.”

Randall stepped away from the bars. “You don't get the necklace until I get out of here.”

Frederick punched Roderick in the shoulder. “What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you not to be so blatant about the necklace thing? Didn't I?”

“Well, I didn't think he'd be so stinky about it,” said Roderick.

“Check the guards we substantially injured,” said Frederick. Rick nodded and went back the way they came.

“After we get you out, you're coming with us to assassinate the king,” Maverick told Randall. “Or else your friend here dies.” He held up the jar containing Bug, who was lying on the bottom, unmoving.

“It's already dead,” said Randall, angrily. “I can't believe you guys! You killed an innocent bug! I hope you develop facial warts in the pattern of an obscene phrase!”

Maverick tapped on the jar a couple times, then smacked his forehead in realization. “Air holes! I knew I was forgetting something, but I assumed it was a label.”

He removed the lid. Suddenly Bug sprung to life, flew out of the jar, and zipped off in the direction of the dungeon exit.

“Look at that,” said Maverick. “It's gone to the afterlife.”

“You cow chip, it's gone to get help!” snarled Roderick.

“Run!” shouted Frederick.