Urickh’s sheriff was a few sandwiches short of a picnic and about as sharp as mashed potatoes. He tried his best, but Urickh was a crime-ridden town, and the sheriff had a hard time keeping up. So, you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that a group of six thugs broke into the Urickh prison to free their thug buddies. And they just happened to break in the very same day that Marigold and the outlaws were locked in prison. I admit it was dreadfully lucky.

The door to the prison flew open, startling Marigold from her daze. She had been laying curled up on the floor, feeling sorry for herself and wondering how she would ever get out of jail. When a bunch of bandits came hurtling past her cell, she ran to the front of the cell and reached her hand through the bars, grabbing the shirt of a passing thug.  When the huge tattooed man turned around, she asked him politely to free her. The man just grunted and walked away. Soon enough, though, all the prisoners in the place were freed, as the thugs broke in doors and turned keys in locks. Marigold, Jenkins, Egbert, Bone-Crusher, and Joe were jostled along by the group of prisoners. They struggled to keep each other in view and stay together as the throng forced through the double doors and out into the sunlight. The weather was lovely. The grass was soft and green, with little buttercups poking their bright faces out from among the stems. The sky was a dazzling deep blue, and the clouds looked as fluffy and toothsome as cotton candy. The whole world seemed free, just as Marigold was now free.

 Or at least that’s what she thought in the six seconds before she was captured by the thugs who freed her. Marigold Beighn had fallen out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

After discovering his sister was alive, Lyman immediately traveled to TinyTown. He needed to tell his parents the glad news. He slowed his horse as he entered the town where he had been raised. How nice it was to be back. He remembered how he had climbed all the trees in the place, from the huge, gnarled oak, to the tiny saplings he had killed trying to scale. The tiny cottages scattered carelessly about brought to memory all the friendly neighbors and comrades that had lived so near. 

As he rounded a bend in the rocky, red dirt road, he saw a pillar of smoke in the distance. Something was not right. Lyman kicked his horse into a gallop. The smoke was coming from the direction of the little daycare across the street! It was on fire. Two ladies were shoving wailing toddlers out the door, while two others ran back and forth, carrying babies in their arms. Lyman immediately dismounted and sped towards the door. When the women saw him, they all breathed a sigh of relief, but none of them stopped their work. Their clothes were singed and blackened, their hair burnt, but their only objective was to save the children, and they worked on valiantly. Lyman yelled over the noise of the fire and directed the women to take all the children to his parent’s  house, (his family was well-known in the small community who took pride in being the town where the famous Green Bean was reared) while he quenched the fire. He threw off his cloak and raced into the building. It was confusion in there…all heat and smoke and falling beams. He tried to get his bearings as the blaze sprung up behind him and crept forward like a monster towards it’s prey. Lyman ran up, even though it was a dumb thing to do, in a burning building. On the second floor, he found what, or better, who, he was looking for. 

As in most fictional fires, there is always a small child stuck on the second floor, conveniently placed where the hero can save him. In Lyman’s case, there was a child on the top story, but the situation was anything but practical. A small boy probably two years old was laying unconscious in a large enclosed crib that was starting to burn. Lyman hurriedly tried to open it, but it had a child lock, and Lyman had about as much experience with cribs as a nun has with robbery—that is to say, Lyman knew next to nothing about them. Lyman could feel his hair burning from the intense heat as he struggled with the lock. It was a complex-looking system, and Lyman could not figure it out to save his life. In fact, he never did open that crib.

Lyman heard a hoarse voice yelling something as footsteps pounded up the stairs. He turned from the crib to see an old man running towards him.

“Pa!” Lyman cried in surprise.

“It’s so good to see you, son! How’s you’re day been?” 

“Um, Pa…talk later? We’re in a burning building!”

Garbanzo Beighn, Lymans father, rushed over and shoved his son aside. In one practiced motion that proved he had been a good dad, he opened the crib and grabbed the little boy. He and Lyman were just turning to the stairs when the floor collapsed and they landed on the ground floor much quicker than it would have been to take the stairs. This was the closest thing to a modern elevator ever experienced in those days, and Lyman marveled at it. The two ran out of the place just in the nick of time. As they sprinted away from the fire, Lyman turned his head to see the wreckage of the daycare completely collapse into a smoldering heap. Soon enough, the TinyTown constable came and put out the fire. The dinky little daycare was eventually rebuilt, with nice bay windows and a pleasant sloping roof—much improved. So, the fire, which had started when a little boy rubbed two rocks together, and they happened to be flint and steel, was really a blessing after all. 

That night, Lyman was glad. He was utterly exhausted, but really very content. His sister was alive. He would find her soon. His Mom had gone into hysterics when she heard, and his Dad had cleaned his ears out thoroughly. They were both very happy, and Lyman loved seeing them again. His mother’s dinner had been very tasty. Lyman had also saved a child from a burning building which was a pretty nice feeling as well. (That’s what he told himself, really though, you and I know he had nothing to do with it. His Father saved the kid)

So all in all, he was happy, and that was a nice thing, and he liked nice things. He liked being happy. And this little spiel has been the most stupid and cheesy thing ever to come out of my mouth, so I’m done now.