Ok, this is getting ridiculous. How long can one wait for a fourth author, who'll write any moment now, sure enough? I've waited to read this for a week and by the look of it, some of you have waited much longer.
To spare the arranger a further wait, I bring here a fourth entry to the "Death of a King" category, thus closing the circle, that I... errr, found on the street. Yes, sir, completely anonymous author not known to me, and when I have published it, feel free to post the other three without any further wait.
Death of a King -
by A Complete Stranger (unofficial entry #4)
It was a quite normal day in the mad wizards's lab, just like all other days except that come to think of it, it being a Sunday, it was actually only like 1/7th of all other days which just goes to show that even the oldest saw goes stale if you abuse it in the woods - or something like that.
Scene: Mad wizard conversing with his hunchbacked servant Igor in front of the weirdest collection of junk you could imagine. No, strike that,
even weirder than that!
IGOR!
Yes, master?
Is the diabolical chain well and truly oiled?
It is well and truly oiled, master.
Is the pendulum of fate swinging?
Swinging low, master, coming for to carry me home.
IGOR!
Sorry, master.
I don't know what it is with the hired help these days...
Sorry, master.
Are the orbs of Mars aligned properly with the zodiac and the instrument prepared?
Yes, the balls are on a roll and the Very Big Gun is loaded, master!
...
...
I swear, one day I'll slit your nose...
Yes, master.
Is the King of Northerndel, Hammer of the Infidel, Slayer of the People Beyond The Mountains, Master of Animal Husbandry (whatever THAT means), Chief of Chiefs, Great Survivor of His Wife, Lord of the Land, Duke of That Small Island Beyond The Sea That Will Surely Be Named One Day, Great Bloody Bastard Who Evicted Me From Court Over A Slight Misunderstanding in the sights?
Yees, Master..
Are the small wobbly dice properly twitchy?
Aye, aye, real twitchy indeed, Master!
Are the signs and portents in favour?
They bloody well are, Master, I wrote them myself this morning!
Are the seventeen hamsters, two comets, nineteen swallows, and no less than three-hundred and twenty-seven pogo sticks in orbit?
All done last week, master, with nary a whimp.
Are the...
Do I detect some small measure of criticism, Igor?
No, master.
Not even a tiny little bit?
Most certainly not, Master.
LIAR!
Yes, Master.
EXPLAIN YOURSELF! UPON PAIN OF PAIN!
Master, I'm just a lowly Igor, while you are the Master...
Continue... Igor
...but wouldn't it be rather quicker just to, oh, I don't know, wave your hand and make him go, you know, "FWOOOM - WHOOSH!", instead of creating a piece of devilish machinery so complicated that, and let us be quite frank here, neither of us really remembers what half of it does, and the other half we added "because it would look good".
Are you INSANE, Igor!?
No, Master, that's your job.
Hmm. Right you are, continue.
I mean, there's surely no logical reason for the four female olympic swimming gold medalists constantly mixing jam in a hot-dog stand attached to the laser-device guiding a robotic carrier pigeon to Jupiter - I mean, they aren't even connected to the cannon!
The Instrument!
Yes, Master, as I was saying, the instrument. Do YOU know what their purpose are?
It seemed like a good idea at the time, Igor.
Yes, Master. Just like powering your trash compactor with a black hole did, and we both remember how THAT worked out, don't we?
...
...
Surely, Igor, you don't think one can just dispose of a king by waving a hand and going
"FWOOOM - WHOOSH!"
No, Master.
First, it entirely spoils the entire
idea of taking a poetic, vile, and thoroughly justified revenge if it is done without extensive preparations that a dauntless hero might attempt to prevent.
Indeed, Master.
I mean, my Guardian Beasts need to be fed, and heroes are few and far between. I'm considerate of my beasties, you know.
Yes, Master.
Second, it takes way more than just waving a hand and going "FWOOOM - WHOOSH!", to actually make somebody go, as it were, whoosh. Not to mention fwoom. Fwoom, now, fwoom is what we in the trade call
tricky.
Oh, master?
Yes, you'd have to at least invoke the ninth circle of hell using the devious handshake of the seventh as your entry key,
like this, and
then go
FWOOOM - WHOOSH!
You appear to have incinerated the king, Master.
You horrible little blighter! You spoilt my revenge! You made me do that on purpose!
Yes, Master.
...All right, time to pack up the Instrument, the Pendulum, the Orbs, the Chain, the Olympic Swimmers, the Hotdog Stand, the Seven Words of Power, the Zodiac, and all the rest of it. It might come in useful some other time.
Yes, Master.
And perhaps, yes, perhaps some rest is in order? I'm feeling just a tiny bit overwrought? Long day at work and so on, Igor, know what I mean?
Yes, Master, you've been awake for eighty-seven days now. While your dedication is truly unmatched, you
deserve sleep.
Right you are. Time for some rest and relaxation.
Yes, Master
No, wait, I cannot have been outwitted by my servant. He is stupid. I am a genius. They said I was mad, MAD, do you hear me? MAAAD! But I'm not. Merely clinically insane. I have the papers to prove it. PROVE IT, DO YOU HEAR ME! It must have been my subconscious guiding me towards a more fitting revenge
on the entire kingdom. A TRULY evil plan. A plan to dwarf all plans. The MOTHER OF ALL EVIL PLANS!.
IGOR! LET MY GENIUS SHINE FORTH! IN THE SWEAT AND TOIL OF MY BRAIN AND YOUR HANDS WE SHALL CREATE A DIABOLICAL MACHINE TO BEAT ALL OTHER DIABOLICAL MACHINES! I NEED A GIRAFFE, TWO PIECES OF THE TRUE CROSS (CATHOLIC VARIANT), FOURTEEN SIZE G BRAINS (you never go wrong with brains - stick to the basics, I say), and a cucumber, not to mention....
*sigh*
Yeees, Master.