This was a tricky one.
deserves another solid assist for prompting it (you can read his story here). The “punchline” came to me instantaneously but it was really tough constructing a coherent story to lead up to that climactic, comedic moment as I envisioned it. Thankfully, I think I got there in the end. Though do please judge for yourself.I did something I don’t normally do and set out with a specific intention. I wrote “suit” to elicit a chuckle in these concerning times. To live in an age when fools can be king is no laughing matter. But irreverent, off-colour jokes and mirthful mockery have proven to be old-age remedies against such darkness throughout time. So I jest. What else is there to do?
Now be a good friend and laugh with me through the tears, won’t you?
Please enjoy,
c.d.
suit
The king was to be married for the fifth time in four years, and to mark the occasion—which proved an exceedingly difficult task with each passing nuptial—His Majesty decided to commission a special suit of armour to wear for the ceremony.
In concert with several draftsmen and his master armourer, whose advice he largely ignored—he was the king after all, so why not—the great ruler oversaw much of the design work himself. And if his pet project kept him away from the business of the court, and the gossiping ladies who held sway there in spite of his regal appointments, then so be it, he thought. There would be time sufficient to deal with such troublesome hens later, he assured himself. Besides, there were other matters of crucial importance to be attended to, such as irksome workers who fretted about matters above their pay grade.
“Perhaps you might reconsider, sire,” the master armourer implored. “After all, there are considerable challenges involved. The final result may prove to be a tad…” the master armourer paused, searching for the right word, “…unwieldy.”
The king, however, merely waved his hand and told the master armourer to leave kingly matters to kings and worry about his own lot, such as the lucrative imperial commission which sat before him.
Duly chastened, the master armourer shrugged his heavy shoulders and went about his trade.
***
Several weeks later, the king strode down the central aisle of the Grand Cathedral before a solemn gathering of nobles and foreign dignitaries, resplendent in a stunning suit of golden armour that shined like the sun. As he set one gilded foot before the other, the organist drew rich, aching tones from the Cathedral’s ancient pipes. The cacophony left the king hopelessly buried in pomp and circumstance, wholly deaf to the commentary offered by the assembled congregation as he inched closer to the altar, where an elderly priest stood waiting next to an attending deacon who still looked wet behind the ears.
“Wishful thinking, eh?” Whispered a county judge to his neighbour.
“If only,” scoffed one of the king’s former lovers to no one in particular.
“I mean, hey, if he thinks it’ll help him, what’s the harm? My Uncle Oscar used to have a saying… oh, I barely remember it now… but I think it was something like: imitation is the purest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness. Not that our great liege is anything less than great, of course. Heaven forbid that it be suggested otherwise…” said an understanding duke to his wife, who smirked and rolled her eyes once her husband had turned to repeat his sympathies to the neighbour seated on his other side.
“Is that—” the minister began to ask before the deacon cut in with an instantaneous reply.
“A fourteen-inch codpiece? Why yes, yes, it is, Father.”
“My good Lord God. Bless him, Father. Please bless our king,” the minister sputtered, crossing himself.
“I think it’s a little late for that, Your Holiness,” the deacon helpfully reminded, “or else he wouldn’t be trying to overcompensate.”
still feel like more? how about these bite-sized delights…
HA! A much better and psychologically rich corollary (or coronary?) to The Emperor's New Clothes!
I really enjoyed where you took this story!