The Fair Maiden and the Dragon, Part II

Loren Logsdon

Buster O’Grady, the meanest man in Weeder’s County, had a beautiful, sweet, talented daughter named Rosie. Buster was determined to protect her from the cruelties and hurts of life. He would not allow any of the young men who adored her to approach her. He had a double barreled ten gauge shotgun to show that he meant business. Buster did not know that he had a formidable opponent. Bryce Nimbus, a Kid Rock look-alike, had fallen in love with Rosie.

Bryce was not like the other youths who fancied Rosie. Bryce was a combination of an idealist and a romantic. His teachers all thought he had his head in the clouds, and Bryce’s friends would concur with that estimate. Bryce believed with all his heart and soul that Rosie was the only girl for him and that he would be miserable until he had won her love. However, like most young idealist-romantics Bryce was shy and felt himself unworthy of such a wonderful treasure as Rosie. Bryce also believed that life gives each of us but once chance for perfect happiness and we had better take it when it comes or lose it forever. The thought of losing Rosie gave Bryce a feeling of fear bordering on paralysis. In that state, he decided to ask advice, so he went to Boone Fowler, the self-appointed expert in matters of the heart.

“Mr. Fowler, I need your advice. I’m in love with this wonderful girl, but I don’t know how to approach her.”

“That’s easy,” Boone replied. “Just go up to her and tell her of your feelings. Do not put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”
“But ….”
“Remember, opportunity knocks but once.”
“But ….”
“He who hesitates is lost.”
“But ….”
“You must strike while the iron is hot.”
“But ….”
“By the way, who is this girl? Perhaps I know her,” Boone finally asked.

Bryce smiled and replied, “Her name is Rosie O’Grady. She’s Buster O’Grady’s daughter.”
The smile disappeared quickly from Boone’s visage, and he said, “In that case disregard everything I said. Forget it. You’ll never get close to that girl. You had better look elsewhere. Why not go after Sunny Tidings; she’s a nice girl, and her father belongs in a Viagra or Cialis commercial.”
Bryce could not believe what he heard because Boone Fowler was a problem solver even better than Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz, so Bryce said, “You mean you won’t help me?”

“No, I mean I am helping you. Listen to me, young man; you need to stay away from Buster and his daughter. Let me explain so even a child can understand. You are living in the midst of a fairy tale. Buster is the formidable dragon blocking your way to the beautiful maiden. He’s Fafnir, but you are not Sigurd. This Fafnir can’t be defeated. Do you hear what I am telling you? Do you get the picture?”
That night, in a troubled sleep, Bryce was visited by a divine inspiration. The next day he went to Mal Cutter’s Barber Shop and had his long hair cut short, much to the delight of Mal Cutter and the geezers who hung out there. Then he buried his gauche Kid Rock hat and drove out to the O’Grady farm.

Bryce introduced himself to Buster, who snarled, “Aren’t you the monkey who tries to look like Kid Rock?”

“Oh, no, you have me mixed up with someone else. John Wayne has always been my hero,” Bryce replied using his smooth radio announcer voice. “Let me explain why I am here. Mrs. Penn, my AP English teacher, suggested that we chose a leading member of the community and write a paper about him or her. I have always admired you for your strength and independence and leadership. In fact, to tell the truth, you are as much my role model as John Wayne. I would like to interview you and write your life story. Mrs. Penn told us that the Historical Society might publish our papers in a book entitled ‘Famous People of Weeder’s Clump.’”

A friendly smile spread across Buster’s face. “This monkey is ok,” he thought to himself, and he agreed to be the subject for Bryce’s AP English paper.

Then Bryce said, “Mr. O’Grady, as an added feature, I would like to interview your family members to include a human interest dimension to my paper. May I have your permission to visit with your family?”

With a sweeping gesture of unaccustomed largesse, Buster replied, “You not only have my permission, you have my blessings. Come visit as often as you need to.

That night Boone Fowler received a cryptic message in his email: “Made it past the dragon. O ye of little faith, B. Nimbus.”