Last updated on November 1, 2024
I’m aware that my previous effort might be too schoolboyish, so I’ve written something else. This is an attempt at parodying Dune. Let me know what you think. Mart
PS. I’ve edited it down to 849 words.
The banquet was singular in its magnificence. It wound around corners, crossed planetary horizons, and hosted everyone with even a scintilla of regard in the Atreides court of Caladan. But it was not without its ambiguities. For the Atreides were about to depart Caladan, the very basis of their burgeoning power, for lands unknown.
“More beer,” demanded Gurney Halleck, his beard and grinning teeth vying for attention in a large face covered with enough scars to simultaneously attest to his bravery and underpin the notion his skill as a swordsman had been a steep learning curve.
Keith Atreides, the elder son of Duke Leto, sitting next to him, grinned. He was having so much fun. His father’s award of an Earldom while he attended Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV at the Landsraad assembly allowed him more latitude with the family gold than he thought possible.
If we are to go, then we go with a bang, he thought. Such was the enmity Shaddam felt for the Atreides, he was not sure his father would return. Then he would have to carry the Atreides torch, and he intended to make it a party, but if Leto did return, he could always beg his father’s indulgence, a course with which he was well versed.
As Keith gazed at the night sky pondering this, the brilliant glow of a nuclear torch crossed the horizon near the distant docklands, a transport decelerating into the atmosphere.
“Ho, Gurney. I spy a ship,” he said, grabbing the large man by his sleeve and pointing at the skies. “Perhaps it is Idaho returning from the Landsraad.”
Halleck was in the process of upending a salad bowl and shouting, “Meat, more meat. And beer, dammit. I want beer.”
He turned to the Earl and squinted through thin eyes, “Idaho? What does that ninny want?”
“He will have news of my father’s audience with the Emperor,” Keith insisted. Duncan Idaho had accompanied Duke Leto to the meeting because of an unerring ability to determine who was plotting against whom. It was said his whispers could move mountains and his glare could end a debate as surely as a stiletto in the gut of a voluble orator.
“My lord,” said a voice creeping out of the shadows. It coalesced from a smoky apparition into the form of Thufir Hawat, the mentat. Thufir is lean but inelegant, with taloned hands and an androgynous face. His tunic is black with an apotropaic sigil inscribed on his breast; a hexafoil of six petals contained within a circle. “Idaho has signalled. He brings word.”
“Word of what, you bloody mentat?” growled Halleck waving his large fist around in an expansive gesture, while slopping beer over three line-captains, an antique portrait of Lady Jessica’s grandmother, a crone of unusually unedifying countenance, and a semi-intelligent plant called Alan, who was kept for calculating accounts, and had come to the banquet to get sign-off for Keith’s excessive expenditure.
“Words have many meanings, Gurney Halleck,” the mentat intoned, cautiously slipping out of the big man’s range.
Before Halleck could respond with appropriately merited violence, the door burst open and to the sound of blaring trumpets, Duncan Idaho strode into the square.
“I bring word,” he announced with a flourish of a printed linen sheet. He stood stock still, as if waiting for applause, with a smile brighter than his chest of medals. Then winking at a nearby server, he strode across the square, each pointed toe placed in a movement akin to dance and wound through the throng to the throne.
“Such a drama queen,” Keith whispered to Halleck, who grunted and swallowed a large sandwich in a single bite.
Idaho kneeled in front of the throne, bowed his head, and took the proffered hand, kissing the ring of House Atreides in one elegant movement.
“My lord, House Harkonnen is to be evicted from Arrakis, and House Atreides will have tenancy. Finally, we will control the spice,” he said, his voice resonant above the whispering crowd.
“An obvious trap,” whispered the mentat, strategically positioning himself behind Keith’s throne, placing it between him and Halleck.
“Isn’t Arrakis hot?” Keith asked, feeling unsure if he was happy about the news.
“Indeed, it is, my lord,” Idaho confirmed. “It’s hotter than a bowl of Bene Gesserit curry with extra chillies.”
“I don’t like hot. I want to be cold and then warmed by a blanket,” Keith declared. “Is this too much to ask?”
“The Duke commands me to observe your wishes. So, while I prepare for our departure, I will seek refuge for you on the ice-bound planet of Fridge,” Idaho replied with a beam.
“What the hell will I do there?” squealed Keith. He turned to Halleck who was shrugging and mouthing the words ‘you’re on your own mate.’
“You could always dine there, my lord,” Idaho said, slapping a knee. “I understand the ice worms are rather tasty when fricasseed with a few cardamom seeds.”
“Dine?” Keith asked.
“Dine!” confirmed Idaho. “I don’t think I misheard your father, sire.”
But Keith knew he had.
There is lots to like in this! I like the fact that our “hero” is called Keith and that he is throwing a party wile daddy is off with the Emperor!
I think the party is good because the Atreides, in the book, can come across as a terribly serious bunch – very dour and poe-faced! You get the rivalries between characters own well – in the novel Hillock, Idaho and Hawaii are on the same side but there is a level of distrust between them – here it’s much more superficial and very funny!
I also liked “I bring word.” its like “Hark!” but again funnier.
I don’t know the original so I can’t comment on the parody part as such but I liked the humour in the piece. As Jason says, Keith is a great name for the hero and I liked the idea of and intelligent plant called Alan. The characters are great too, the laddishness of Keith and Gurney, the sliminess of the Mentat and the campness of Idaho. I, also, like the food references.