“You came here through an onion you say?” Sneered the Parsnip King. “A likely story.” We had been thrown into shackles and taken to the palace of parsnips. We kneeled in the royal court as King Parsnip sat upon his throne, listening to our explanations. Whilst he did, he continued to flick through the pages of his Premier League 1994 sticker album. Over the years he had collected all the stickers, partly to prove his influence throughout the land, partly because he loves stickers. He paused for a moment, and then thrust the album in Hank’s face. “Tell me, what do you see here?” He asked.
“It… It’s a shiny Denis Irwin sticker…” Stammered Hank.
“Yes… a shiny Denis Irwin sticker. Do you like Denis Irwin Hank?”
“I don’t have any feeling about him either way really…”
“Tell me, what do you think of his spell at Oldham Athletic Hank?”
“But Sire, hardly anybody remembers Denis Irwin’s career at Oldham Athletic.” Interjected a parsnip aide. He was right. This was getting obscenely niche.
“SILENCE!” Screamed King Parsnip, as he slammed his sceptre down onto the floor. “I’ll ask you again Hank. What do you think of Denis Irwin’s spell at Oldham Athletic?”
“I… I… don’t know your majesty…”
“Don’t know eh?” The Parsnip King got out of his seat and strode menacingly towards us. “Well you will Hank, let me tell you, you’ll know. SEND IN THE ROBOT DENIS IRWIN!”
There was a silence.
“Sire, we don’t actually have a robot Denis Irwin…” Said the aide.
“Hmm… I suppose you think you’ve got away this time then Hank.” Said the Parsnip King. “Well, you haven’t. Oh no, you haven’t at all. SEND IN THE GARY PALLISTER DROID!”
“Sire, I don’t think you quite understand…”
“THE STEVE BRUCE CYBORG!”
“Sire. We don’t have any of these. I’m not entirely sure where you think we are.”
“Very well. You win this time Hank. You win this time…”
The Parsnip King sat back down on his throne. “So tell me again, what is your purpose in being here?”
“Well your majesty” I began, “we were just hoping for a bit of an adventure when, as I said, we happened to fall into this onion, and then suddenly we found ourselves here. We met a green giant…”
“You met the green giant? How is he?” Said the King.
“He’s err… he’s… fine?”
“We shot him.” Said Jonty. The Parsnip King drained of colour, which was pretty hard for a parsnip as they never really have any colour to begin with. He was now pretty much transparent.
“YOU SHOT THE GREEN GIANT?” He screamed.
“If it’s any consolation, I think he was ok…” I said, trying to calm him down.
“He wasn’t. We burned him.” Added Jonty.
“DAMNIT JONTY!” Shouted Alan.
“So the green giant is dead?” Said the Parsnip King, hesitantly.
“Yes.”
The King sat in silence for a short time, evidently deep in thought. He rose from his throne again, and slowly approached the group of us, still nervously kneeled before his throne.
“Then you are friends of the Parsnips!” He said, suddenly. “Release their chains!”
The guards who had escorted us this far helped release us from our shackles.
“The green giant has been terrorising us for years. If he had his way we’d all be trapped in a tin and sold us to the highest bidder. Finally we’re free, and all thanks to you! We must celebrate! And surely you shall be the guests of honour at our feast! Now let us make haste, for there is no time for spare!”
The Parsnip King exited the hall, his aides in tow. “You are free to go.” Said one of the guards, and so we left. We exited the royal court and ventured out into the parsnip world. Word had quickly got around that the green giant was dead, and a party atmosphere spread throughout the streets. We were local heroes. If only Donald had been around to enjoy this. He was at the back of our minds now though, we were too busy enjoying ourselves.
That evening, the Parsnip King did indeed put on a celebration for us. It was a lot like a medieval banquet, insofar as that’s the only image I can conjur up to accurately describe what it was. It was a medieval banquet. There was lute music, there were jesters, who were rubbish. None of them had any jokes about posting peoples lungs, and the parsnip people had turned out in force. Truly, everybody was having a magical time, and we were at the centre of the celebrations, sat at the King’s table.
“So what do you think of the parsnip party?” Said The Parsnip King, nudging Alan.
“It’s good. Thankyou.” Said Alan, as he took another sip from his pitcher of ale. We were all having a fun time. We’d never partied with parsnips before, but boy did they know how to party. Some said that they should perhaps be called partysnips? Get it? Partysnips? Instead of parsnips? Partysn- you know what, forget I said anything.
It was when I was enjoying a turkey drumstick that it happened. I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a voice “Excuse me, would you care to dance?” It said. I turned around to be confronted by the most beautiful parsnip I’d ever seen. It was like a parsnip with hair. Beautiful hair. A lovely she parsnip. “Yes, I’d love to dance, but… I don’t know how…” I confessed.
“It’s no problem, just follow my lead.” Said the she parsnip, who will henceforth be known as Shesnip until I can actually be bothered to think of a name that would be appropriate for a female parsnip.
“Righty ho.” I said, as we headed to the dancefloor, and I nodded to the lute player in a motion that said ‘Play that David Bowie song from a Knight’s Tale.’ And he did. I have absolutely no idea what happened next, the dance was but an adrenaline-filled blur that I’m fairly sure incorporated the running man. I think this is what happened, I can’t remember, I was pretty drunk, all I remember is that when we’d finished dancing there was a round of applause.
“Andy you dance like a Parsnip!” Said the Parsnip King as he slapped me on the back. “Please, accept this key to the city!”
“Why thankyou Sire! But please, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without this Shesnip.”
“Did you just call me Shesnip?” Replied the beautiful parsnip.
“I still haven’t thought of a name for you yet.”
“Ok.”
“Why this is no regular Shesnip…” Said the King, as he put his arms around us both. “This is my daughter!”
“Oh boy!” I said, as the lute player played the theme tune from Quantum Leap.
“Now come Andy, we have much to discuss. But first, let us all raise a toast! To the adventurers who slayed the green giant!”
The assembled crowd of parsnips all raised their glasses and began to drink. Then, a noise. A bang. Somewhere near. Then it was louder. A bang again.
“What’s that?” Said Carl.
“Everybody run!” Shouted the King! “It’s the mushrooms!”
And that’s the end of Part 3 of this story, which is fast becoming a very long tale with no end in sight. We’ll see what happens tomorrow shall we?
