The Great Competition 

By Wuckster

 "How much time do we have left?" The Earl of Zebulon asked.

His servant Winston pulled out the official hourglass and checked. "Approximately two hundred and forty-seven grains, sir."

"Hmm. There ought to be time to nab a few more before the clock expires. What's our count at?"

"One hundred and thirty-six garden gnomes, sir," his other servant Francis said. "Also one plastic flamingo who's painted to look like he's wearing a gnome outfit. I'm not sure if that one's going to count, sir."

"Hang on to it anyway. You know the Duke of Slyzzbrrg will lie, cheat, and steal in every possible way. We'll argue that it counts as a gnome all the way to the Supreme Council of Elders if we have to. Now keep your eyes peeled. There must be some more garden gnomes somewhere in this neighborhood."

"I see a yard with a plaster frog, sir," Francis said as he peered through a pair of binoculars.

"Grab it! We'll paint a beard on it and throw a funny hat on it. Nobody ever said gnomes can't be amphibians. How about you, Winston. You see anything promising?"

"Oh baby," Winston shouted. "I think I just spotted the motherlode. Five garden gnomes positioned as if they're having a meeting around a toadstool conference table."

"Where?" The Earl of Zebulon said as he grabbed the binoculars out of Winston's hands. The strap pulled tight around his servant's neck, choking him as the Earl looked. "I don't see what you're looking at. Where is it? Speak up, man!"

"On a little island," Winston rasped as his face began to turn red. "In the middle of the pond. The big white house at the end of the street."

A large smile spread across the Earl of Zebulon's face. "The crown shall be mine!"

*

When King Kqw'g of the planet Urrr died a month ago, he had left no heirs behind. That meant the throne was up for grabs, and as dictated by tradition would be claimed by the winner of the Great Competition.

The Royal Astronomer of Urrr had located a small backwater planet called Earth and noticed that it contained an unusually large amount of garden gnomes. When the Royal Gamemaker heard about this, she decreed that this year's Great Competition would be decided by whichever of the noblemen could steal the most garden gnomes from Earth in a 24 hour period. Thus the heads of the eighty-two noble houses of Urrr had descended on the small blue planet roughly twenty-three and a half hours ago.

*

"Okay, Francis, you know the drill, right?"

"Swim across the pond and retrieve the gnomes, sir."

"That's right. Now try not to splash me with any water when you get in. I just got these robes dry cleaned."

"You got it, sir," Francis said as he leaped in the pond. He paddled with his four arms and three legs and was about halfway across when he let out a blood-curdling scream. Something large and vaguely orange colored emerged from the depths and swallowed him whole.

"Oh no," The Earl said. "Goldfish!"

*

The denizens of Urrr are a mighty warrior race that fear only one thing in all of existence: The apex predator known as the goldfish.

*

"Maybe we should just let these ones go, sir," Winston said.

"And risk letting that snotty Duke of Slyzzbrrg win? Over my dead body! I have a solution to our little predicament. Return to the flying saucer and fetch me my freeze ray!"

"You shoved it in your pocket before we disembarked, sir. You said you didn't like the look on that Earthling child's face. Remember?"

"Oh, yes. Sure, she appeared to be merely having a tea party with her dolls, but I believe her intentions were much more insidious. Better safe than sorry. Nonetheless, I shall freeze the pond solid and you will walk across and get me my gnomes."

He closed one eye and stuck the tip of his tongue out as he took careful aim with the freeze ray. Within seconds the surface transformed into a sheet of ice.

Winston carefully stepped out until all three of his feet were on the ice. Confident that it would support his weight, he began to walk forward. He barely had time to register the blur of orange color coming from underneath when the horrific monstrosity burst through the ice and grabbed him in its gaping jaws before disappearing back beneath the water.

Realizing he was out of servants and nearly out of time, the Earl of Zebulon threw caution to the wind and raced across the ice. Hopefully the dreaded goldfish was still busy consuming Winston and wouldn't come for him.

He was nearly across when he heard the sound of the ice cracking beneath his feet. In his haste to beat the incessantly trickling grains of sand, he hadn't done a very thorough job of freezing the pond. He was still several steps away from the island when he fell through the ice.

In the course of his education, he'd learned to fence and ride horses and play lacrosse and everything it was deemed fit a nobleman should know. But he'd never learned to swim.

As he thrashed around one of the last things he saw was the Duke of Slyzzbrrg hanging onto a rope ladder as his mini-copter descended on the island. The Duke flipped him the middle finger as he collected the precious gnomes. And then he heard the water splashing and sloshing all around him as seven goldfish approached him from every direction. They each latched onto one of his limbs and then ripped him apart.

*

Wanda Stephenson was completely unaware of the epic tragedy that had occurred in her pond the night before, so she couldn't understand why her normally ravenous goldfish seemed uninterested in their breakfast this morning. She also for the life of her couldn't figure out where the tiny little hourglass she found in the grass had come from.