The Jest
An allegory
Background
I think I wrote this in high school or shortly after, and recently dug up a printed copy that I scanned, reformated, and share here. Finding these fossils has been fun, sending me back again to when I wrote them, giving me perspective.
Polishing this one off, I feel like rewriting the whole thing, but then what’s the point of unearthing it? Besides, appraising one’s own work is tricky, even if you don’t remember even writing it. Let the reader ignore this, or be the judge.
Self-publishing is glorious and taken for granted these days, so booyah to giving these goodies their fair chance to see the light of day, decades later. So much has changed, yet essentially nothing has. I was born to type, who knows what’s good?
Here goes…
The Jest
An allegory
Atop the highest peak, overlooking the desolate expanse of the 1001 Realms in vantage point and matchless supermacy, in the mightiest tower of the most fortified castle envied by all who gawk at it in wonder, stood the Throne of Thrones.
Resplendent with the glory of the seat of Empire, the throne glittered with the most precious of minerals and metals, procured through the inexorable and relentless demise of all the lesser worlds, providing a fitting abode for the vigorous posterior of the greatest of all monarchs, King Salvador, the King of Kings.
The throne itself stood at the end of a mile-long royal hallway, a vast corridor lined with two opposing rows of ten thousand of the most frightful warriors. The merciless soldiers were adorned with titanium armor designed more to withstand the frightful gaze of King Salvador, than to ward off any fool impertinent enough to even attempt unauthorized entrance.
King Salvador, whose military accomplishments were a distant second to the sheer awesomeness of his physical appearance, was a relentless source of terror to all his subjects. His pounding footsteps could be felt even in the remotest corners of the Kingdom, rumbling the vary earth itself.
These displays were only surpassed in power only by the King’s frightful moods: Should the King sneeze out of boredom, whole forests would tumble to the ground; should the King strike the arm of his throne with his fist in disgust, mountains would shake, cities collapse.
Trembling with fear, each morning hundreds of petitioners would approach the King, one after another, asking for forgiveness or a resolution to their painfully mundane existence. As was often the case, King Salvador would amuse himself by solving both problems for them simultaneously, feeding the royal lions in the process.
One morning, long after the King had become irritated with his insolent petitioners, and the the royal lions were all suffering from an acute case of indigestion, King Salvador became bored, very bored. Oh, oh. After the group of ten thousand forestry engineers and one hundred thousand relief workers had been organized and dispatched to clean up the mess afterward, desperate measures had to be taken.
With the task of governing the Empire left to the lower kings, keeping the King of Kings occupied and content — in the feverish attempt to ward off any further recurrance of natural disaster — was the chief assignment of the royal stewards. Lord Rupert, expert in magisterial entertainment, was then summoned to hopefully prevent another catastrophe.
Sensing the urgency of the situation, Rupert sent for his select group of 999 Court Jesters, but quickly disbanded them, realizing that a forceful laugh of his kingship might evoke even greater destruction than any minor ventilation of the royal proboscis due to ennui. Frustrated, Rupert racked his brains searching for a solution to the King’s ennui, and was about to surrender all hope when he was interrupted by quite a racket, this one coming from outside the throne room.
After trotting down the length of the royal hallway, endlessly saluting to the warriors who could not do anything anyway due to their ridiculously ostentatious titanium armor, Rupert finally reached the door and stuck his face outsida, only to find Pablo, lowliest of the 999 Court Jesters, trying to gain entrance by distracting the door guards with a lackluster juggling act. The coy would have succeeded, but Pablo Kept dropping several of the tennis balls he was juggling, causing several of the guards to fall over.
“What are you doing here, Idiot?” asked Rupert, distractedly.
“I wish to entertain his esteemed highness, in order to save the kingdom from himself, your Excellency,” responded Pablo the Jester, maintaining his poise by gathering up several of the tennis balls and nonchalantly continuing his act.
“Begone, fool! You disturb my immense concentration, and I must think of something before — ”
The Castle shook, the mountain shook, the Kingdom shook, but
nobody noticed because of all the forestry and relief crews already running about the land.
King Salvador spoke: “RUPERT?!”
Rupert’s arms shook, his legs shook, his whole body shook, but Pablo didn’t notice because of all the tennis balls flying about the hallway.
“ …Yes, mee Lord?”
“WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?” rumbled King Salvador, as the ceiling relieved itself of an excessively large chunk of plaster, which nimbly landed square upon Rupert’s head.
Contrary to Rupert’s initial impression of sheer pain and disorientation, the incident must have done him great good, because he reeled, now from the realization that the knock on his noggin had inspired a possible solution to this morning’s dilemma:
Pablo was awful, truly the worst of jesters. and that was just what Rupert needed: not humorous enough to produce any spasm of royal hilarity, but clumsy enough to provide at least some innocuous entertainment.
Rupert grabbed Pablo the Jester and addressed the King of Kings.
“Your royal grandiosity! I have found someone to entertain you! Allow me a few moments to prepare him. and I guarantee that you will not be disappointed!”
“VERY WELL. BUT FAIL, AND YOU WILL BE FED TO THE LIONS.”
Whether Rupert was struck senseless by the raw intensity of King Salvador’s statement, or by the chandelier that had become dislodged as a physcial result of that very same statement, remains to this day a mystery. What is certain, however, is that Pablo had seized that opportunity to rush down the hall and begin his act immediately.
At first overwhelmed by the splendor of the royal habitat, Pablo the Jester remained huddled by the inner door, eagerly holding a few tennis balls. He spoke respectfully: “Oh Great Prerogative Supremacy, oh Majestic Monarchical Dominator, oh Exalted Imperial Scepterwaver, oh — “
“OH, CUT THE CRAP!” bellowed King Salvador, as a mountain or two slid into the sea.
“Oh, Lordliness,” continued Pablo the Jester, unabated. “Oh Profoundest of Puissant Pre-Eminences… Would you like to play a game?”
“A GAME!?” questioned the Monarch.
“Certainly,” responded Pablo.
“What Kind Of Game?” a gain inquired the King, now very interested.
“You know. Just a game, any old game,” replied Pablo.
“Certainly,” said the King, surprised and delighted that for once, a visitor addressed him directly, honestly, without fear or unnatural hesitation.
King Salvador then ordered the inner door to the throne room closed, and nothing was heard of the King for many many hours.
Rupert, who had been lying unconscious in one of the outer chambers, finally awoke realizing that much time had passed, and seeing no sign of Pablo, rushed down the royal hallwaym and thrust open the inner door to the throne room.
Much to his surprise and alarm, Rupert saw Pablo chasing after King Salvador, who had shockingly descended the throne and was seen to be running and bouncing happily about, waving some stick in the air.
Leaping to the protection of his lord and master, Rupert ran across to Pablo and struck him upon the forehead. Outraged, King Salvador bellowed a renunciation so intense that the force of his breath blew Rupert down the length of the royal hallway, knocking him into the last warrior standing at attention at one of the outer doors.
Needless to say, the warrior fell backward into the soldier standing immediately behind, who in turn fell backward, so that all the pitifully armored warriors standing in that line went tumbling down like ten thousand titanium plated dominoes. Knowing that the King valued symmetry in the royal household, the other line of warriors quickly followed suit, making quite a mess.
Rupert, who knew that the King valued neatness in the royal household even more so than symmetry, again lost consciousness.
King Salvador then ran to his new friend, and helped him up from the ground. “Truly you are alright, Pablo?”
Pablo stood up, steadied himself, nodded his head, stretched a lag or two, then collapsed.
After much work by the royal masseuse, Pablo was again fit for service. King Salvador quickly dismissed the masseuse, then closed the inner door.
“Would you like to play catch?” suggested Pablo the Jester.
“CATCH!?” exclaimed the King.
“Certainly,” replied Pablo the Jester.
“What Kind Of Catch?” asked the King asked, expectantly.
“You know. Some kind of catch, any old kind,” said Pablo.
“Certainly,” responded King Salvador, eager to have some more fun.
Pablo reached into his pocket, and grabbtd a tennis ball.
“Now you go over to that end of the room, Kingy, and I’ll go over to that end,” suggested Pablo, pointing first to the edge of the far end of east wall, then to the far end of the west wall. “I’ll toss the ball to you, and you try to catch it. Got it?”
“Got it,” replied King Salvador, already on his way.
“After you get the ball, then you toss it over to me, and I’ll catch it. Then we do it all again, okay?”
“Righto!” said the King of Kings.
Play continued for quite some time. Soon Pablo the Jester suggested some improvements.
“Now that we’ve developed mad skills, perhaps we should stand farther apart. That will make the game more interesting, don’t you think?”
“Certainly,” said the King. “How can we do that?”
Pablo thought intently for several moments, then jumped in excitement over his new idea.
“The throne room is longer from north to south than it is from east to west, so why don’t you go to one end, and I’ll go to another?”
The mighty king thought it over, and replied anthusiastically. “Suparb idea, my friend.”
“Alright then,” continued Pablo. “I can go over and stand next to the throne, and you can stand over there, next to the door. That will certainly improve the game.”
Play again continued for quite some time, the King of Kings gleefully absorbed, until Pablo the Jester suggested more improvements.
“Now that we’ve developed our mad skills aven more, perhaps one of us should stand above the other. That slight change in the throwing angle will make the game more interesting, don’t you think?”
“Certainly,” replied King Salvador. “But how can we do that?”
Pablo thought intently for several more moments moments, then jumped up onto the throne in excitement over his new idea.
“The throne is higher than the ground, so why don’t I remain up here, and you sit down by the door. That will certainly improve the game.”
Salvador thought it over, and replied enthusiastically. “Superb idea, my friend.”
Play continued again for a short while, until Pablo realized that the view wasn’t so bad from where he stood. He gazed down from the highest peak, overlooking the desolate expanse of the 1001 Realms in vantage point and matchless supermacy, in the mightiest tower of the most fortified castle envied by all who gawk at it in wonder, sitting on the Throne of Thrones.
Then Pablo the Jester eyed Salvador the King of Kings, now huddled by the door, eagerly holding a few tennis balls.
Salvador, surprisingly enough, was also impressed with his new perspective. Now he looked up to the world, and with a tilted neck he felt the responsibility and the boradom of complete conquest to be for once truly beyond him. He would no longer have to face the thousands of vengeful souls who had approached him daily, asking for forgiveness, asking for purpose.
What did Salvador care of those things? Forgiveness? Purpose? The very thought of such haughty self-importance and foolish insolence had dislocated several continental plates only yesterday. But now he playfully juggled several tennis balls into the air, and looked up to Pablo his new and only best friend ever, yearning for the continuation of the game.
Rupert suddenly burst into the room, bringing along ten thousand enthusiastic, although quite dented, titanium armored warriors. But seeing Pablo standing upon the royal throne, and Salvador, sitting on the ground, dumbfoundedly tossing a bunch of tennis balls into the air, Rupert again collapsed.
“REMOVE THAT INSOLENT BODY FROM BEFORE MY THRONE!” bellowed Pablo, as even Salvador gloriously shook and almost slid into the sea.
The guards, whose sight was not much improved by their dented helmets, heard the bellowing voice, and with great difficulty finally grabbed the limp body of lord Rupert, expert in magisterial entertainment, and removed it from the throne room.
Much time passed, and King Pablo established himself as a powerful and very successful King of Kings of Kings, who did not again require the protection of the ten thousand titanium armored warriors to assure his absolute control over the 1001 Realms.
Mindful of his own origins, King Pablo decried that all subjects were equal in weakness and depravity before his eyes, and the royal armor was melted down and redistributed to a new standing army he created. War was subsequently declared against the kingdoms across the sea, and King Pablo expanded the Empire infinitely beyond the relatively humble accomplishments of his predecessor, Salvador the Jester, who now entertained the King and reminded him of his past.
And legend has it that King Pablo had the foresight to make his dominion truly absolute, the next gesture of this once lowly jester being to have all of his 999 Court Jesters eaten — all 999 fools but one, of course.
