The Goddamned Chosen One

“You know,” Zoe shouts to me as she wipes the dragon’s blood off her sword, “Somehow I thought being the Chosen One would suck less after we saved the world.”

“I’m a little busy here!” I shout back as I dodge another one of the little bastard’s fireballs. I notch another arrow and let it fly. The dragon screeches and falls, landing in a big cloud of dust and sand a little ways away.

“What were you saying?” I say, panting, as Zoe walks up.

“I said,” she says, “that I thought after we saved the world from the demon army, being the Chosen One would cease to suck ass.”

“That’s what you get for thinking,” I say, “that’s my job. Your job is saving the world from… you know, whatever it needs saving from on any given day.”

She punches my shoulder.

“Come on,” she says, “let’s go find the horses. I bet they wandered back into town.”

An hour later we stroll back into Oasis, the little town that looks just like you’d expect an old west town to look like. I pull out my iPhone.

“Two o’clock,” I say, “still no reception. Any idea how we’re going to get back to our dimension?”

Before she can answer, Sheriff Cutler calls to us from down the road.

“Yeah,” Zoe shouts back as he approaches, “we killed the damn dragons. Did our horses come back here?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” he says, cigarette dangling from his lip, “Thank you so much. Our town woulda been doomed without y’all steppin’ in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Zoe.

“You know,” I say to Zoe, “people around here are probably pretty grateful. Think we could parlay that into some free beers?”

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” she says, smiling, and we head toward the tavern.

Two hours later we’re drunk and having a grand ol’ time with some of the town’s rowdier citizens. Zoe is dancing with some big cowboy and I’m introducing some of the citizens to a game we called “asshole” back in my dimension. Then everything is ruined by a huge crashing sound from outside.

I look at Zoe.

“Oh Goddamnit,” she yells.

Then a guy runs into the tavern shouting.

“Come quick!” he yells, “some kinda flying boat just crashed into the post office!”

I look over at Zoe, who rolls her eyes.

“Got your sword?” I call to her.

“Yeah,” she sighs, picking it up, “let’s go check it out.”