It’s been well over a year since I wrote anything that wasn’t work related. Not sure what happened in November of 2024 that might have depressed me to the point of giving up all hope.
It’s a mystery! 🤷
Here’s something I probably started back then, starring two of my favorite characters I semi-created; Caecelia and Mootella. Read their previous stories HERE and HERE. This is very much an homage to the scene in Duck Soup where Chicolini (Chico) and Pinky (Harpo) meet with Trentino to report on their mission to spy on Firefly (Groucho).
The Hall of the Moontain King
Count Umbrage paced nervously around his chambers. He had sent two of the most renowned spies to city of his rival, Duke Ralvant, to find some evidence of malfeasance that he could bring before the king. Time was of the essence, for the Duke was likely sending agents of his own for the very same purpose to spy on the Count.
Word had come to him that his agents had returned to town and were recuperating in the local tavern.
That was six hours ago.
There was a gentle knock at the door. He darted across the room, pausing to compose himself, before pulling the door open. Before him stood his agents, a giant cow-like creature, Mootella, and her diminutive elven companion, Caecelia. They were dressed in fine apparel, though sullied in places by wine and an assortment of other miscreant sediments. Umbrage poked his head through the door and looked down the hall to see a trail of mud, tracked all the way to his chambers. They must have crossed hundreds of feet of interior stone and yet they were somehow still muddy.
The elf saluted. “We’re here, boss, what did you need?”
Count Umbrage took a step back and gestured for them to come in.
Without hesitation both tried to come through the door at the same time, but the bovine creature’s girth prevented it. They fought each other, pushing and shoving, with Mootella grasping Caecelia by her long red braid to prevent her from getting past. Finally Mootella slipped and fell forward, flat onto her face, freeing Caecelia to run over toward the fireplace to warm her hinder.
“Ladies,” Umbrage began. “What news of—”
The cow leaped to her feet and ran over to the Count’s finest chair in front of the fireplace. Before she could sit, Caecelia sprinted forward and wedged herself into the chair, pushing against Mootella.
“There’s not enough room for both of us!” the elf cried. “You’re too fat!”
Mootella continued to press against her. “I am shapely, unlike you. That’s why nobody finds you attractive.”
The giant managed to get her hand behind her tiny companion and shove her out and onto the ground. With her gone, Mootella settled comfortably into the chair, placing her muddy hooves onto the footrest in front of it.
“Shoes off!” Caecelia demanded.
“What?” Mootella bellowed.
Caecelia grabbed one Mootella’s legs and shook it. “We’re supposed to be sophisticated women. We take our shoes off when inside.”
Mootella looked down at her mud caked bare hooves. “I already took them off before we came here.”
“Why did you do that?” the elf questioned.
“I didn’t want them to get dirty. It might make us look like pheasants.”
“Peasants?” Cacelia pondered.
“Exactly.” Mootella chuckled.
Count Umbrage hid his contempt and smiled politely as he arrived near the fireplace. “Welcome, ladies. By all means. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Mootella sprang to her feet, ran to the Count’s bed and leaped into it. The whole structure creaked and started to buckle under her weight. She pulled the silken covers over herself, with her mud covered legs hanging outside the blanket, over the foot of the bed.
Caecelia ran to the spread of food on the table, and began stuffing her mouth, and her pockets. She picked up a bread roll and whistled. On cue Mootella sat up from the bed. Caecelia threw the bread roll perfectly into Mootella’s mouth. Soon followed were a bunch of grapes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, a whole onion, and a small wedge of cheese.
“Of course.” Count Umbrage said, his rage barely contained. “Eat your fill, but I must know—”
Caecelia picked up a beef shank and whistled again. Mootella sat up once more with her maw agape. Caecelia hurled the beef shank into Mootella’s mouth. She clamped down on it and then spat it out. With a growl she bounced up out of the bed, the force of her action snapping one of the legs and causing the whole structure to collapse. She then ran over to the table.
“That could have been one of my cousins!” she bellowed to Caecelia.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” The elf mocked as she took a bite from a beef rib. “Your cousins died in a fire.”
“Not all of them.” Mootella rebutted. “Angus survived. He set the fire.”
Caecelia slowly pulled the rib away from her mouth and stared at it. “Angus?” She whispered before dropping the rib and bursting into tears.
Mootella came around the table and comforted her. “There. There. He never liked you anyway.”
Caecelia wrapped her arms around Mootella, still weeping. “I want you to know when Dan dies you can eat him. I won’t blame you. It’s the only way we can make this right.”
“Is Dan your cousin?” Mootella asked.
Caecelia stopped weeping and looked puzzled. “We’re not really sure, you know? His dad had quite the appetite for women, if you catch my meaning. He was never truly faithful to my aunt, so we’re not sure if Dan is her child or not.”
“Ehem.” Count Umbrage coughed. “Shall we get down to business?”
The two snapped to attention. Mootella, the rest of her body perfectly still, casually reached forward and grasped a bottle of wine. Caecelia spotted it and jumped at her, trying to pry it from her hand. Mootella lifted her arm, along with Caecelia, and sucked down the contents of the bottle.
“You damned lush!” Caecelia barked. “Now he’ll have to get us another bottle.”
Count Umbrage sighed as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a little bell. A moment later a servant entered.
“Another bottle of the sixty-one—” he glanced at his two guests with contempt. “I mean bring a bottle of eighty-four.”
“Make it two.” Mootella interjected.
“Wait.” Caecelia began. “What am I going to drink?”
“You’re cut off.” Mootella scolded. “Bring her grain alcohol and a mint leaf. She can’t handle the classy stuff.”
The servant looked to Count Umbrage in confusion. Count Umbrage reluctantly nodded and the servant was on his way.
“Now, can we please get to the matter of Duke Ralvant?”
“Who?” Caecelia asked.
Umbrage clenched his fists and let out a huff.
“She’s joking, boss.” Mootella laughed.
“That’s right.” Caecelia agreed. “We did just what you asked and sneaked into his house.”
“You both sneaked in?” Umbrage questioned as he looked to the giant Mootella in disbelief.
Caecelia scoffed. “See, even he thinks you’re tubby.”
“I am not!” Mootella protested. “Despite my perfectly large proportions for my size, I move gracefully, like a goat. You’re the one who gave us away.”
Count Umbrage scowled “You were spotted?”
“We were.” Mootella frowned. “And we wouldn’t have been if someone didn’t start squawking.”
Caecelia rolled her eyes. “The little girl asked ‘what are you two doing there?’. It would have been rude not to reply. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
Mootella turned away, ashamed, “I was an orphan.”
Caecelia leaned over to hug her. “And yet you still turned out so well. Be proud of that.”
“A little girl?” Umbrage interrupted. “What little girl?”
Caecelia scratched at her chin in thought, “I think it was the Duke’s daughter.”
“Ralvant’s daughter is very much an adult.” Count Umbrage snorted, “and is married to Duke Minnok of Cantlin.”
The two agents looked to each other with a shrug. “Maybe we were at the wrong house.” Mootella wondered.
In a fit of rage, Count Umbrage kicked over one of the dining chairs. “You useless buffoons! Did you accomplish anything on your mission?”
Cacelia laughed. “Of course we did, boss!”
Mootella nodded in agreement. “We got paid a bunch of money to tell some old guy all about you.”
Umbrage ceased his seething and was awash with concern. “What old guy”
“Big burly man.” Cacelia began. “Bushy grey beard, bald up top.”
“He wore a scarlet cloak with a symbol on it.” Mootella continued. “Some kind of bird?”
“A pheasant?” Umbrage said, unamused.
“No!” Caecelia barked. “She said a bird, stupid!”
“Duke Ralvant wears a scarlet cloak with a phea—bird as his family crest.” Count Umbrage said, rubbing at his forehead. “So what did you tell him?”
Mootella thought for a moment. “We didn’t reveal any secrets. Don’t worry about that.”
The Count breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yeah.” Caecelia began. “We told him about your plan to frame the Duke as a traitor and take his place.”
Count Umbrage’s brain had run out of ways to process the scene unfolding before him. He now just stared at the two of them, blankly. “What did he pay you?”
“Twenty six gold florins.” Mootella said proudly.
“Is that all?” Umbrage said, sadly. “I paid you two thousand in advance to undermine him.”
Caecelia stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “Exactly. And with all your money in hand, we didn’t need much more. So, we cut him a discount.”
“Anything else I should know?”
Mootella grinned. “We drew him a map of your estate, including the locations of guard posts, weak points in the walls—”
“And where you keep the liquor.” Caecelia interrupted.
“That’s right!” Mootella said proudly. “And last of all, we handed him a key to the back door.”
Count Umbrage looked up in surprise. “I certainly never gave you any key to my estate. And I don’t even have a back door to this place.”
The two looked at each other in thought.
“You know what?” Caecelia began.
Mootella laughed. “I think we gave him the wrong house!”
“GET OUT, GODS DAMN YOU!” Count Umbrage shouted. “GET OUT!”
The two scrambled toward the door, each grabbing handfuls of food from the table as they ran. The door opened as they got near, and in walked the servant with the previously requested bottles of wine, which they grabbed as they ran past.
Soon after, Duke Ralvant and Count Umbrage were brought before the king and made to answer for their scheming.
Duke Ralvant and Count Umbrage looked a pitiful sight. They had been stripped off their fine vestments, dressed in prisoner’s rags, and were shackled about the ankles. In turn each fell to his knees before the king, begging for mercy.
“Nay.” The king bellowed. “You shall stand trial, as is the law of our land. Who will stand up for these men and represent them in my court?”
Silence fell over the crowd, save for, at most, a hushed murmur.
“Oh, what the hell.” A shrill voice finally cried out.
From the crowd emerged Caecelia, dressed in a new set of fine clothes that had somehow already been soiled in the same place as her previous. “These men’s stories move me. I’ll stand up for them!”
“Me too!” another voice said, though its speaker was clearly visible, as she was a giant cow-like creature that stood two feet taller than everyone else in the court.
The king looked to them in confusion. “You cannot stand for both. Each must pick one.”
Caecelia and Mootella huddled together whispering, occasionally looking up to glare at the two prisoners.
“It’s decided.” Caecelia said at last. “I’ll take the little one and she’ll take the bald one with the beard.”
The king nodded. “And what say the prisoners? Are you content with these representatives?”
The two men looked to each other, looked to the king, and then said in unison. “No! How soon can we be hanged?”
2025-12-18 EDIT: Fixed some typos.
Armchair Screenwriter 