Lord of the Fly
The fair maiden looked at her Lord longingly as she wiped her chin with her sleeve and widened her sultry smile. “Off with you now. Your King has pressing matters to attend to lass.” He paused for a moment, quivered, regained his composure and opened the door to the adjacent hallway. Onward down the halls he marched fueled with a fire in his soul; his guards bowed to him dressed in the most gallant of armor.
He tore open the awaiting door. The King took a passing glance at the Jester. In his mind he thought: “Ah, look at him, jaw agape as if staring into the very fountain of creation itself! I cannot waste this moment.”
The King proceeded through the curtains and delivered his message to the populace. The King’s voice boomed over the public within the colosseum. Their mouthes hung even lower then the jester’s. As his final word was spoken, there was silence. “Oi! He’s got a tiny one ain’t he!” cried a peasant. The crowd laughed until the humbled Lord retreated from his podium and wept.