The king of a distant country had long been suspected of
madness. Now, in old age, the truth was clear: the king was
No-one knew what he would do next, or on whom his temper
would fall. But he was still King: and no-one – not his beautiful,
unhappy wife, or his many children, his lackeys or his courtesans - could
control his urges. All they could do was placate him; praise him, pretend he
was sane, while his advisors quietly tried to save the country from ruin.
Even so, he was very dangerous. Because he was King, his servants were forced to obey his
every command, even commands that might lead to war, or famine, or disaster. And they all pretended to agree with whatever his madness
led him to do.
From his golden tower, hedged about by sycophants, the mad
King would watch the world below, and fancy himself as one of the gods,
all-powerful and immortal.
Sometimes, he would spend whole days simply gazing at his
“How huge they are!” he would say to himself. “So huge that
they cover the face of the Earth!” (In fact, his hands were very small; they simply looked huge
because the King was holding them so near to his face.) Nevertheless, the courtiers and sycophants all agreed that
the King’s hands were the largest, most impressive hands that any man had ever
One day, the King’s beautiful, but unhappy wife brought him
a splendid parrot. She hoped that the bird might entertain the King, and keep
his incessant anger at bay.But when the King saw that the parrot could fly, while he,
the King, could not, his rage was fearsome to behold.
“I should be able
to fly,” he announced to his cowering courtiers. “Am I not the King? Do I not
hold the whole world in the palm of my giant hand?”
His courtiers timidly agreed that the King’s hands were indeed
huge, and that he should be able to do whatever he wanted to.
His beautiful, unhappy wife agreed that the King’s enormous
hands should be more than sufficient to allow him to take to the air like a bird. Everyone watched as, climbing onto the parapet of his golden tower, the mad
King released the parrot.
The parrot took to the air, and flew out from the top of the
tower to vanish into the distance.Then the mad King followed suit, flapping his hands and squawking. The King’s courtiers and his beautiful wife watched as he
fell through the sunlit air and hit the cobbles far below.
“What a terrible tragedy,” said the Queen. “But who could have
guessed that his Majesty could be so mistaken?”
The mad king was given a state funeral, as well as a fine marble monument that
showed him with hands as big as barn doors.
Hey everyone! This part has a bit of sexy times in it, so fair warning for anyone who just doesn’t want to read that kind of stuff. Thanks for reading, you guys are spectacular. Anyway, have a great day :D
If Steve Urkel was around now and days he would fit in perfectly...fashion wise.
But on the real a lot of the fashion I see here on this site, specially on dudes has me all suspect about them…I mean really? Tight as pants (Don’t know how your nuts breath) Low cut shirts, Blond hair, lip piercings, and a raccoon tail to finish it off…come on, but whatever to each their own.