“You can buy det cord at….”
“He failed to keep his promise,” Cheesy said. “I win.”
“Yes, you do,” Bruce soothed. “But what does the win get you? You don’t need to know how to set det cord.” Or at least he prayed they didn’t. “You need to know how to get to your heaven, right?” And when Cheesy just stared at him, Bruce said the word. “To Fairyland. You want to go to—”
“Fairyland! Fairyland! Fairyland!” The cheese chorus kicked up, right on cue.
“That was his first answer,” Cheesy said as he looked back at Laddin. “He said we cannot go. But he lied.”
At that moment, the fairy chorus changed from screaming “Fairyland” to chanting “lies.” That was bad enough, but while Bruce had been talking to the Cheesy, the group setting up the slingshot had redirected their white cheese chunks. They now pointed it at Laddin and took aim. Bruce didn’t even notice it until his peripheral vision caught the launch of a big hunk of something that separated into three parts in the air, then nailed Laddin in the face, chest, and belly.
Crap!
At least it wasn’t that suffocating American cheese… yet. The boulders landed with heavy thuds, and Laddin cried out in pain. But with his next breath, he continued explaining det cord, though he sagged against the tree.
Now that Bruce looked closer, he realized Laddin wasn’t leaning against the tree—he was tied to it by string cheese. And worse, the places on his body pummeled by the cheese were already welting up.
“It wasn’t a lie—” Bruce argued, but Stilton had come closer and puffed a cloud of noxious air his way.
“You will take us to Fairyland,” the Cheesy said. “Smoked Gouda has seen it.”
“Everybody keeps saying that, but I don’t know how!” Damn it to hell, this was frustrating. “We spoke with the other fairies. The girl ones with the flower hats.”
Cheesy spun around. “They will surrender?”
Bruce shook his head. “They want to go to Fairyland too.”
“Fairyland! Fairyland!”
Bruce clenched his hands. He wanted to squash every single fairy here, but damn it, he’d tried that before. He’d flattened them, eaten them, and even farted them, but they’d come back stronger than ever. It was impossible to negotiate with illogical beings who didn’t die. Especially when they were perfectly capable of killing every man here.
Maybe if he focused on why they thought he would take them to Fairyland, he’d get some answers. He turned to Smoked Gouda, who was reclining in a dark fog at the base of the tree. “What exactly did you see?”
Gouda opened his eyes to half-mast, puffed out a bunch more smoke like a guy with a pipe, except that his body was the pipe, and then smiled in a dreamy kind of way. “You are the path to Heaven.” He closed his eyes again.
Fortunately Bruce had some experience negotiating with stoners, so he knew what to say to that. “I’m the path, right?”
Gouda nodded.
“And this path won’t do jack shit for you if you kill his friend.”
Gouda did absolutely nothing. Right. He had to talk to the Cheesy.
“Grand Cheesy, according to Smoked Gouda, I’m the path to Fairyland. Well, in order to do that, I need him”—he pointed to Laddin—“healthy, strong, and whole. You’ve got to release him.”
“It is our right—”
“Of course it is. I’m not arguing about that. I’m talking about your ultimate goal.” He took a single step forward and invested all his strength in his words. “I need him.”
The Cheesy wasn’t even listening. “It is our right to have answers.”
Bruce was so sick of people who talked about their rights without thinking about the damage they were causing. “How about this? What if I bring a fairy prince to you? Then you can talk to him about getting to Fairyland, huh? Maybe that’s the way to get you over there.”
Cheesy turned and gave him a big grin. “You are indeed great, Farting Friend.”
He really had to get them to use his real name. “But I won’t do it unless you release Laddin. Him and all of us.”
“Agreed!”
Really?
Then Cheesy did something truly disturbing. He ripped out one moldy eye and threw it at Laddin. It hit Laddin in the chest with a puff of grossness, but it worked. The string cheese released, Laddin slumped off the tree, and—best of all—he stopped talking.
Hallelujah! Except Laddin was going to fall on his face.
Bruce had fast reflexes, but even so, he barely got there in time. He caught Laddin around the torso and eased him down to the ground. Then he held Laddin tight through the shakes, murmuring all the comfort words he knew.
“I’ve got you. Just breathe. It’ll be okay now. I’ve got you.”
Except the interlude didn’t last long. As Laddin’s shakes began to quiet, Cheesy stomped in front of them. “Where is this prince?”
Looked like there was no rest for the weary. Fine. He looked up and said the words. “Bitterroot, I call you. Bitterroot, get your ass over here. Bitterroot, come now!” He was pretty sure all he needed to say was the guy’s name, but he wanted to sound official.
Right on cue, the fairy appeared, but his expression was a smirk. “Nice try, but I will not speak with them.”
“What? Why the fuck not?”
“Because they are earth sprites, and I don’t like them.”
Bigoted much? “Too bad,” Bruce snapped. He pointed straight at Bitterroot’s face and spoke to Cheesy. “There he is. Negotiate away.”
Except the Cheesy was looking every which way, as was everyone else in the clearing. “Where?” the Cheesy cried. “Where is he?”
“Right there!” Bruce repeated and pointed hard.
Nero groaned. “We can’t see him. He’s refusing to negotiate, isn’t he?”
Cheesy continued to scream, hopping up and down so that chunks fell off him in little tiny puffs of rancidness. “You promised I could speak with the fairy prince. You
