It was not a question of performance, the jester very well knew the tricks of the trade, however, upon the eyes of the queen, he fell a fool.
"Tell me o' foolish one, where would the scarf be?"
A jingle irritated with each bounce as the jester fell to the floor with his head burrowed in between his thighs.
"Very well," the queen's fat nose twitched a notion to the guards as they took the jester away.
His yelps were silent, for in his agape mouth, the absence of a tongue yearning to exist. The Guillotine would end his career as swiftly as it began. And thus, the queen set forth into the village to find a new jester.
Amongst the seeded roads, paved poverty with a sickish gold, for the cankering of the hooves plated with jewelery drummed with each gallop. Humble shacks quivered in unison as the clouds withered a gloom shade of shadows in the alleys. All ...alongst the road the peasants bowed, all but one whom was seen chewing on a barley of wheat. His defiance instantly sparked an infatuation in the queen, yet, she must discipline him for he is a subject, as the rest, and what difference does one make?
"Tell me your secrets" she proded the defiant.
"But my lady, if i did, they would not exist.
Her lip twitched and the hair on her neck contorted as her voice mustered a lustrous tone.
"Dare thee resist me?"
"I dare live"
The man spit out the stem and picked up another barley and resumed chewing as he turned his back to the queen and walked into the fields.
"Quick after him" she ushered her guards.
The pursuit of a hare began with the deck of cards arguing with words they did not understand the meaning to.
Emerging with failure, only one guard emerged missing one fourth of its body shrieking madness before fumbling into a fit on the floor.
The queen removed herself from the chariot as each step crushed the spines of a short and fat man crouching underneath her feet.
She examined the body and wiped a blueish residue from the wounds, "Its H-i-m"
The substance could be mistaken for no other, the man of barley was none other than, him. She cursed the air and ran into the tall stalks of wheat littering the fields where the man remained. She fell over a corpse and tore the fluers off her dress. The golden dress melted into chocolate which began seeping into her legs. The scalding rendered her beauty with scars camouflaging any sense of health. Unable to walk, she crawled back towards the carriage and hoisted herself into it and locked the door shut. After a few moments the chariot began moving, as a surprise to the queen, to which she tried to escape. The door was unable to unlock, and thus, his melody was heard,
"Tis we plow and wheat the ripeness of gluttony
to starve only to stuff our queen piggy,
Dare I, dare I, drive our chariot
I Dare, I dare, End this harlot"
© Copyright 2016 Zebadiah. All rights reserved.