Prince Valium (continued)
"Sure, why not?" you tell him.
The old man smiles warmly.
"Wonderful!" he exclaims.
"And you won't regret it.
Rapunzel is one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, inside and out.
Her parents used to live next door to the witch that watches over her now."
"But not any more?" you ask.
"Not since the witch moved into the tower," the old man explains.
He lowers the sack that he's been carrying around down to the ground and rummages in it a while before handing you a wallet-sized picture.
The picture is of possibly the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.
Her big brown eyes are bright and intelligent, yet shy and innocent, her smile very sweet.
And her hair!
It flows in thick, rich amber waves, down her shoulders and back, and further down--how much further, you can't quite tell from the picture.
"Rapunzel," you breathe.
"Princess Mrs. Valium."
You wince slightly as you experiment with the title; you will have to change your name, you decide, or she would never agree to a marriage.
The old man sighed.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Ravishing," you agree.
"But how do I get to her?"
"That's where the challenge is," the old man tells you.
"The tower has no way in or out except through a window at the very top, and there are no rope ladders to drop down from that height, no obvious handholds on the tower.
Only the witch comes and goes every now and then.
How she does it, I'm not quite sure--probably by broom."
"Well," you say, "I'm sure I'll figure something out."
You make a move to head toward the tower, but the old man stops you with a gesture and opens his sack once again.
"Ah, but I have some things here in case you need them."
He pulls out some climbing gear, a parachute, a pair of scissors, and a revolver.
"They're not much," he tells you, "but they might help.
Choose one of the three to take with you on your quest."
You study the items before you.
The climbing gear includes climbing rope, carrabiners, and crampons.
The parachute is a single piece, enough for only one person.
The scissors don't look too helpful.
The gun--well...
You look up at the old man quizzically, and he shrugs.
"You never know when you might need it," he says.
"So which will it be?"
You tell him...
