Once there lived a cockroach named Bitonto underneath the boards of a great house. Bitonto was the youngest of the family and had many brothers and sisters who called him Bitty for short. His siblings would dare each other to amazin feats when they were just plumb bored. One dare was to crawl on bigger-person flesh and see how long you could stay before being flicked off and the person went shrieking and wriggling away. Another was to run across the floor of the ballroom when there was a party: if you made it to the other end alive, you got an additional mark on your exoskeleton - but it didn’t count if you lost a leg or antenna or something.

One night, there was a particularly huge party on the floorboards above - the biggest in living memory. All the cockroaches peered through the cracks and jostled each other for the best view. There was the fairy queen and a centaur who were making high pitched keens and deep rumblings at each other over a bassinet that held a baby.

“Bet you can’t run across,” his oldest sibling Frida mouthed at him, cuffing his unmarked back, “scaredy-bug!” The other cockroach siblings sniggered and nudged each other.
“I can so TOO,” Bitty cried out.

A sudden silence up above made him afraid that he’d been heard. But, then, he realized that was impossible. Sound began to fill up the room and ooze through every crack and crevice in the floorboards.

“This is IT,” thought Bitonto, “This is MY CHANCE.THIS IS MY TIME!”

Bitonto leapt for the cracks, scrabbling through to win the smooth surface of the ballroom floor. He heard his siblings hootin’ and hollarin’ behind him and felt pretty smug for a second, prancing forward a few steps forward before a shower of sparks erupted above and cascaded down onto his head. He felt like sneezing. He sneezed.

And felt himself expanding. His head blossomed before the rest of him followed suit. Dizzying towers seemed to shrink and resolved into interested looking faces above stalky legs and poufs of green and black petals. Knowing that these beings mostly stood on on their two hind legs and not wanting to be thought impolite or offend anyone powerful, he followed suit. It was difficult, but he managed after only falling on his back three times. He heard a smattering of applause and bowed very, very carefully - first to the right, then to the left, then to the front where the Fairy and Centaur stood watching him.

“It appears we have another guest,” Bitonto heard a clear voice from the bassinet. In the bassinet there was no longer a baby but a young roan lady, like a horse-y satyr, dressed in a plain white frock. She was the most beautiful creature Bitonto had ever seen and he immediately resolved to ask for her hand in marriage.

This creature clapped her hands and twelve servants immediately stepped forward and coughed discreetly as one unit. One stepped up holding underwear. Another socks. A third some breeches. And so on. They marched up to Bitonto and made him dress up in these fine clothes. It was terribly embarrassing to do that in front of so many eyes and with such bad balance - plus, Bitonto knew that his siblings were watching through the cracks, too, so he tried to get it over with as fast as possible.

“Now we shall feast and make merry to celebrate my name day!” said the roan-lady. “What is to be my name?”

“How do you like the name...Griselda?” asked the Centaur, stroking his beard - but the roan-lady made a face.

“What about Carlotta?” asked the Fairy, shooting a look at the Centaur - and the roan-lady whinnied her approval. The Fairy stuck out her tongue at the Centaur and flounced triumphantly about for a bit, chanting in a strange language: "ItoljeeesoItoljeeso".

Someone leaned over and whispered to Bitonto: “Since you are our guest, you must lead the way to the feast with Carlotta. It is our law.” So Bitonto found himself at the head of a long line of fairies and centaurs, with Carlotta on one of his arms, entering another grand hall decorated with Morning Glories and sheafs of Baby’s’ Breath mixed with Blue Moon Flowers that smelled so softly sweet. They all sat on wooden benches and jeweled plates laden with crisped chicken, piles of fruit, and freshly baked crisp bread dripping with honey were placed on the table.

Everyone tucked in with gusto, but Bitonto toyed with his fork.

“You are not hungry?” Carlotta asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“My lady, I beg your pardon,” Bitonto said, “But my stomach is not used to such fine fare. I fear this would give me indigestion and that I would wind up being indelicate.” He so hoped he would not embarrass himself in front of her.

Carlotta furrowed her brows then called an attendant over and ordered him to scour the castle in search of decaying flesh, grease, and a bit of sewage - for she was wise in the ways of beasts and insects though she was but a few days old. The attendant hurried away and returned soon after with the choicest bits he could find from the garbage and outhouse, putting a sprig of parsley on top as a garnish and a slice of lemon by the side of the plate.

“Buon appetito,” Carlotta said and smiled as she raised her glass and drank some blood red pomegranate juice. Bitonto made sure to drop a little of everything he ate onto the floor for those below - even if they HAD teased him earlier. He also sent his compliments to the chef.

After everyone finished feasting, there was dancing. Bitonto was not much for dancing, but Carlotta was and, so, he found himself in a corner of the room and chatting with the Centaur.
“Sir,” said Bitonto, “Though I have known you but a short amount of time, I admire you greatly and esteem your daughter even more. I would like to marry Carlotta.”

The Centaur eyed Bitonto up and down and finally said: “Well, what’s that to me?” before cantering off to dance with the Fairy Queen. Bitonto figured that was all fine. He had noticed that some folks squared themselves up before asking for a dance, so he tried to emulate that and gave his jacket a little tug before approaching Carlotta.

“Hello, fine lady” he said. “May I have this dance and your hand in marriage, please?”

Carlotta stopped dancing and the music abruptly snapped to a stop. “I shall marry you,” she declared, “if you complete this one task: the Fearsome Beast, which has lived in the hills and terrorized our kingdom for eons, must be defeated. Do this thing, bring me its head, and you shall have my hand in marriage.”

“Done,” said Bitonto. He gallantly kissed her elbow and withdrew.

“The same goes for any suitors,” said Carlotta, and hoofed it.

“Defeat the Fearsome Beast,” Bitonto murmured to himself and paced the floor back and forth. Finally, he went into the ballroom and flopped down to talk to his siblings. “FRIDA,” he whispered loudly, “can you please get a bunch of spider-webs from Mrs. Recluse and weave me some armor? I will drop SO MUCH food down for you, like, a million times, and you can have my comic books.”

There was the sound as of a thousand cockroaches moving and Bitonto lay there on the floor, waiting. After some hours, a thin thread of white was thrust out the floorboards. Bitonto took the end of it and pulled out a gossamer suit of armor, which even had crows embroidered on it. He carefully slipped into it. The armor fit snugly over his clothes and you could not even tell he was wearing it except for the strange way that he seemed to shimmer now and then in the light. “THANK YOU,” he whispered.

Then he went into the kitchen because he was pretty sure that the Fearsome Beast would require some intricate knifework and this place seemed to have no armory. The Chef of the kitchen had a huge scar on one side of his face from when the Fearsome Beast caught him unawares walking home from a field late at night, and happily offered the best of what the kitchen had when Bitonto explained his purpose.

“This spit, here,” said the Chef, “has been in my family for generations. It has spitted many a fowl and ox along with the occasional pig and one unicorn. It is pretty sharp on one end. You can use it.” Then the Chef also let him have a cleaver, an ax, and the top of a large pot as a shield. Bitonto thanked the Chef warmly, and armed himself: the spit in his right-top hand, the cleaver in his bottom-right, the ax on the top-left, the pot lid on the bottom. He posed, he thought heroically, then snuck for a minute into the bathroom to practice some ferocious faces and his swagger.

Feeling sufficiently armed and armored, he sauntered out and made for the hills where the Fearsome Beast slept. It was a rainy, dreary day - not the sort of day that’s pleasant to be out in at all, and he happened across an old tinkerer who was selling pots and pans, huddled under a small cart and looking miserable as the cart didn’t keep the rain out and there was mud everywhere and not even a bit of warmth in sight. Bitonto felt very sorry for this old tinkerer but, not having any money, decided, instead, to give the tinkerer the pot lid he had since it was made of some shiny material and was surely worth something.

“Bless you,” said the tinkerer. “Your heart is kind and, for this, I will tell you something to your advantage: the Fearsome Beast is weakest right as he has his tea in the afternoon.” Bitonto thanked the tinkerer - or tried to, but the tinkerer and his cart had vanished. Shrugging, Bitonto picked up a large branch to replace the lid and continued on his way.

Bitonto reached the dwelling of the Fearsome Beast in the morning. Remembering the words of the tinkerer, he hid out in some bushes and waited until afternoon tea. Just as the Fearsome Beast took his first sip of restorative Earl Grey, Bitonto leapt out of the bushes and cried out “HO!”

“RUDE!” growled the Fearsome Beast which looked a little bit like a tired tan dog with brown spots and a very long neck. The Fearsome Beast gnashed its teeth and sprang from its chair with a drawn-out yowl, and bit Bitonto’s stomach! But the webby-armor held firm and repelled the bite.

Bitonto had a moment to think before he threw the branch he was holding and shouted out “FETCH!”

The Fearsome Beast looked at him as if he were an idiot, so Bitonto blushed - but then spit the Fearsome Beast to the ground and chopped off its head with two blows from the ax and cleaver. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he thought and carefully picked up the head and brought it back to Carlotta. There was still music and dancing in the hall when Bitonto got back. Not knowing quite what the etiquette was, he went up to Carlotta and dropped the head of the Fearsome Beast at her hooves.

“Lady,” he said, “I have brought you the head of the Fearsome Beast.”

Carlotta laughed happily and clapped her hands together in delight. “Good,” she cried, “then we shall have the finest head cheese at our wedding!”

The End.