Happy Ever After

There comes a time in every famous character's life when the adventures stop arriving. The dragons have been unionized, the castles have become destination-wedding venues, and the kingdoms have replaced their royal families with tourism departments. Nobody sends an eighty-year-old prince galloping into a forest anymore, especially after his cardiologist has forbidden galloping, trotting, jousting, and rescuing anybody heavier than a house cat. The heroes are no longer needed, the villains are no longer feared, and the talking animals have discovered that modern people will believe almost anything except a talking animal.

That was why they came to Mossy Head. Florida was warm, comparatively affordable, and accustomed to elderly residents with colorful histories. Nobody at the grocery store became concerned when an old woman purchased two hundred apples, twelve pounds of glitter, and an industrial cauldron. Nobody questioned the wolf driving a Buick, the pumpkin parked in a handicapped space, or the elderly pirate arguing with a self-checkout machine. In northwest Florida, eccentricity was not necessarily suspicious. Sometimes it was merely Tuesday.