Trashland a Go-Go by Constance Ann Fitzgerald

on the bewildered guard and helped him. She felt plenty of closure, having avenged Adrian’s death. She didn’t need any ceremony. But she figured those poor spore-infested knights that were most likely trying to shake off the Queen’s sex-spell all across her vile kingdom, and they would need something to find peace in their situation.
    She grabbed an ankle.

They entered the courtyard dragging the Queen behind them—leaving a thick, sticky trail of blood. The guard stopped in the center of the courtyard and whistled loudly. Most of the knights had already stopped what they were doing when the pair had walked through the door. The remaining few turned with their mouths agape once they saw the Queen’s mangled and rat-chewed face.
    Coco looked around at the knights. All of the spores had dried up and died. All of the knights were free from the Queen’s brainwashed version of love.
    The courtyard fell silent as the guard climbed up on the dining table and raised his fist in the air. He pointed a bloody finger at Coco. “She killed the Queen!” he shouted.
    Coco tensed, unsure of their response. The other knights looked from the shouting guard to Coco, and then around at each other.
    Their silence gave way to a roar of applause and cheering. They rushed to Coco and kissed her shit-caked shoes and blood-coated hands and feet. She stood there for several moments in awe of the praise she was receiving.
    “I don’t follow,” she said slowly.
    The guard jumped down gleefully. He grabbed Coco by the hands and waltzed her through the crowd to the Queen’s throne at the head of the table. “Sit!” he said, his voice dripping with joy.
    Coco looked at the throne. It seemed comfortable enough—overstuffed, with burn marks and patches. And she was tired.
    “You’ve saved us! We couldn’t ask for a better, kinder successor!” he said, brandishing the Queen’s barbed wire and gemstone crown. He placed it in the nest of Coco’s matted hair and for once she was glad that her hair was such a tangled mess. It was the only thing keeping the metal barbs from cutting into her scalp.
    “Successor?” Coco asked. She reached up and touched the crown. She looked over the crowd of servants gathering. They all seemed overjoyed.
    “You’ve killed the Queen! That makes you our new queen!” he shouted, both fists high in the air. “Long live the Queen!” the knight began to chant.
    The crowd joined him. Soon the chant echoed from every mouth in the courtyard—knight, fly, rat, and whatever other weird creatures had heard the news.
    When the uproarious chorus faded to laughter and murmuring, the guard turned to Coco, “As Queen, what will be your first act?”
    Coco surveyed the crowd, unsure of what one was supposed to do when ruling a kingdom of trash. Her eyes fell upon the knight who had groped her in the jail. His arms were crossed over his chest. He glared at Coco with one black eye and some crusted blood around his nose.
    Coco laughed and pointed to him. “Off with his head!”