The King of Van has had one of those weeks… Everything in the Dungeon-Keep (i.e. work) apparently turned into sheer oxen dung in the blink of a King’s eye. But nay, not just for this King, but also for the Queen, and those valiant Princes and Knights of the Kingdom of Van, and mayhaps even other inhabitants of Ye Olde Kingdom.
The title says it all… picture thee a goblet of ‘grogg’… emotes visions of some slurry… mayhaps stewed bean of coca plant, mayhaps the remnant of simmered stable-keeper leggings. Foul… odiferous… ripe with the ‘tang’ of putridity. Dare thee taste? Darest thee not? It is thine, served up to the brim, passed over from the Wicked Sorceress Lady Luck… The right of choice is not thine… thee get what cometh, and smileth while partaking of thy share, all the while being violated.
Then comes hence the bowl of ‘gruel’… Yeesh….! By the Gods may the Wenches in the Kitchen of Hell be dammed! Stewed elixir of dragon-sphincter? Boiled Ravens-foot? Care thee not, for again ye have not but licketh thy chops, ladel a healthy portion of the vile ’soupe-du-nure’ into thine bowl, open wide, and beset the quest to rid content without succumbing to the stench of the bitter, acrid, wretching, gawd-awful potion…
In less eloquent words for this King, “Work sucketh mightily!” Indeed, the Taskmasters care not of the burden ye carry. Even a King’s burden can become overwhelming, but they frought not about handing over more than ye can do within the assorted hours of the day. Add to that the unjust scurrilousness of the Taskmaster for bringing in others, and paying them greatly for the services they render – mirrored acts of thine own – thrice weighted in gold to thine!
Even a King can be tasked beyond endurance. So it is with the other inhabitants of the Kingdom of Van. From Queen to Youngest Prince Van, and to all honorary members of Van-dom, ours is the quest, verily, to just make it through the passage of one single moon-phase. Each is meted out their share, knee atremble with the weight carried, especially Youngest Prince Van, to which the overly trodden uphill route in the realm of life sets asunder, while thusly being monitored by the Evil Summoners of Death along the way.
Yet, in never-ending solace, sorrow, and circumstance, did we but choose the paths we trod. Now therewith the Evil Sorceress delivereth her ’special’ bounty, as doth the Summoners of the outlying villages where Princes do trod!
With underlying hope and prayer for eternal damnation for that -excuse the metephor – “Bee-Yotch” Sorceress, Summoners, and Taskmasters of our realm, we sojourn onward.
To the Quest!!! Eat Ye thy portions, yet cast not away from sight your hopes and dreams…
So let it be written… So let it be done!
October 30, 2006 at 9:08 pm
You’re the king… have them be-headed!
Well put though, in seriousness…. Do what you have to do, in order to do what you want to.
November 4, 2006 at 12:24 am
“With underlying hope and prayer for eternal damnation for that -excuse the metephor – “Bee-Yotch” Sorceress, Summoners, and Taskmasters of our realm, we sojourn onward.”
SHEER POETRY