As they approached within a half mile of the cave, the desolation became acute. Not a green thing grew, and nothing moved. Another sure sign of the monster, the rocks were oily and slippery. The difficulty of dealing with such an infestation was certainly not in the tracking; any blind man with a nose for pastry could have found this blighted grease spot as easily as the slayer and his companion had.
Now, as they stood near the entrance of the monster’s lair, they considered the real challenge that faced them. The slayer rested his hand lightly on the handle of his weapon. Like a large bread knife, it had a serrated edge that would easily cut through the flesh of the beast. The ancient, hardened frosting presented a greater challenge. This protective armor would have to be dealt with by other means. The slayer’s companion, a gnomish inventor, had the answer. His invention, an insulated beer keg with shoulder straps and an extended pump handle, would spray scalding hot espresso over 25 feet. This should be enough to weaken the frosting and let the slayer do his work.
They approached the mouth of the cave. Fighting within would be suicide, so the slayer cried out a challenge:
“Foul donut, I, Mattias of Toledo, have come to destroy you. I have slain many of your kind, and now I have come to slay you. Your reign of terror is at an end!”
At this, there was a stirring within the cave, and a plume of greasy steam wafted from the entrance. The inhabitant growled, and then it appeared. Huge, frosted in maple, angry, it looked around for the source of the challenge.
The slayer stepped forward. “Monster, you have fattened your last maiden. My sword will taste of your pastry, and you will be destroyed.”
A target sighted, the donut roared and began a rolling charge. The slayer raised his weapon and ran toward the donut. His companion contributed a steaming spray of coffee and a gnomish battle cry. Within seconds, the distance was closed. The slayer leapt, and swung his blade down in a wide arc…
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