The Singe Rigmarole [ON HOLD]

Chapitre 3: Let Me Inn

Approximately 12 hours, 12 minutes and 2.2 seconds later, it is safe to say that Prince Olivier and Eloi Cairo arrived at the next kingdom. For centuries, there have been continuous rivalries and wars between the two kingdoms – mainly because they each had similar names. Neither King wanted to change the name of their beloved territory by changing a vowel into a consonant and changing the first letter. They were proud men and they wanted to keep it that way so warfare was the only answer.

Why such a delay? Why was there a one second delay, you may ask?

Despite being exultingly hallucinogenic, Prince Olivier can be very charming. Whether he be sober, drunk, tired or sad; he tends to shine through with his dashing good looks and his generously silk-lined pockets. Handing an array of items, Olivier merchandised a selection of covet items that he knew were banned there: highwaymen cigars made from dried wood faerie hair and hemp, walrus tooth, raspberry wax candles, fluorescent suspenders,  opium. However, none took interest for they were obedient citizens who’d rather keep their heads.

“What’s in the cart?” The head guard demanded sternly.

“Straw and a monkey in a cage,” replied the prince, “I brought him here to be “sold”. I came here as quick as possible to avoid the mid-September downpour.”

All the guards glanced at each other telepathically in consideration.  Prince Olivier watched their eyes darken, growing ravenous but silent.

“Let me have it!” shouted one of the guards.

One after another, all the guards hurtled and lurched towards the cart, shrieking at him inhumanely to reach the monkey. Eloi Cairo was still asleep but luckily for him, the head guard stepped forward in one great stride and blasted his elkhorn trumpet.

“None of you shall have it!” roared the head guard. “You men with your hunger and nonsense are disrupting the peace!”

The head guard turned to face Olivier and Olivier knew that he should take him seriously or else – for the head guard’s moustachioed face was engraved with silvery scars as deep as gullies and bacterial warts that may burst under the impact of grossly proportioned pride for his kingdom and his job as well as the ghastly facial hair.

“We’ll let you pass through but I warn you, young prince that the King and Queen of this kingdom would instantly hunt you down if they knew you were here. If you wanted to avoid this, take your damn ape to them as a peach offering gift, permitting you to have a rite of passage. Everyone will leave you alone after that.”

Prince Olivier nodded slowly; not caring what would happen to his pride altogether. All he wanted was to get rid of Eloi, acquire more gold and hopefully, Lilou would return to him – rightfully his.

One of the younger guards, unseen by the others, slowly circled the cart in great concentration, hoping to steal the cage and bring it home to his family.

Alas, Prince Olivier was quick, drawing out his pistol at the guard.

The younger guard gaped then back off altogether. The head guard strode up to the prince – shoving his bayonet into his face before rasping out a secondary warning with his garlicky, malt liquor breath:

“Don’t bring any violence here, boy or otherwise I’ll hunt you myself. Don’t disturb the peace!”

Prince Olivier snorted in complete disregard and went on his way, with many jeers coming from the complaining guards who wished to take a bite out of Eloi Cairo.

Eloi Cairo, woken up by the guards’ yelling, the opening of the gates, the rickety trundling of the cart and fetid reek of the dead ferret, started to panic. They were here. To calm himself down, the ape closed his eyes and lifted his emerald encrusted tunic to his nostrils to smell the remnants of his dearly loved home – the cumquat juices, the sterile smell of silicon polyester, the grainy yet artificially sweet scent of his multicoloured jelly beans and the glossy feminine touch of those ribbons. He did not have the chance during the night to try out all twelve of those keys. He was too tired to try but now he regretted that. Eloi did not know what was going on and what would happen – but right now, he reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw his key assortment.

Eloi Cairo was not familiar with this kingdom so he did not know how much time he had left before his life would be no more – skinned of his fur, lightly poached, excessively seasoned with exotic spices such as cinnamon, star anise and salt, stuffed with various vegetables like green beetroots and orange capsicums, covered in cumquat sauce then served upon a platinum platter to display as the masterpiece. Thinking this, he shuddered slightly and began to try each key, one by one. Three keys through; the straw cart came to a startling halt. Unaware of all events, Eloi slammed his head against the ceiling of the silver bird cage in frustration and fear – were they there already?

The prince’s face appeared at the cage’s door. But he was no prince, evaluated Eloi. The prince’s good looks had almost disappeared for he had not shaved for several days, ate poorly and of course, he had dark shadows under his eyes from being depressed and tired for 12 hours, 12 minutes and 2.2 seconds. But how on earth did he get through the gates looking like a blue-collared, working class chump? thought Eloi as he stared straight back at this poorly face. He finally evaluated that it may have been a trick of the light. In all honesty, the prince had slipped opium to the head guard in order to keep his lips sealed and to hurry on through the gates despite his lower class appearance.

Soon, enough, Prince Olivier and Eloi Cairo were in a small inn. It was located in a street nook in complete darkness and obscurity, away from most eyes and most hands. Luckily, at this point, the ferret had been disposed off – given to the hunch-backed innkeeper who didn’t seem to make a very large profit these days. The innkeeper seemed to be rather young although with a very old appearance – he was astute but kind, serious but funny. He had abnormally large feet and the teeth of an old man with broken dentures. The innkeeper looked into the cage, raising an eyebrow at Eloi before muttering and walking off to prepare a meal for his guests.

“Is there anything wrong?” asked the prince; too weary to pay attention to any sad, tragic story.

“No,” the innkeeper garbled, “It’s just that you have a fine specimen there. What are you doing with it?”

“Taking it to the palace to dispose of it,” Olivier said exasperatedly.

“I’ll take it off your hands for any price,” the innkeeper proposed, cracking his knuckles while saying so.

The prince glared at the innkeeper – great, another crackpot. Here we go. But instead of retorting, he kindly asked the innkeeper to show him his room after his meal. The meal itself was adequate; cured rabbit steak with creamy potato mash, pumpkin cubes and red beans washed down with eight pints of Bavarian beer followed up with orange mille-feuille for dessert. The innkeeper watched the prince eat, disgruntled, however, on the outside he showed neutrality. Eloi Cairo was given a bowl of green banana and coconut mash with a small cup of market wine, of which he only mildly enjoyed. Hours later, Prince Olivier, holding the cage with Eloi Cairo inside, followed the innkeeper upstairs in a disorientated stumble. The prince whispered into the innkeeper’s ear – a favour perhaps or some strange drunken joke, Eloi Cairo could not tell. The innkeeper nodded whereas Prince Olivier chuckled in beer hiccups. The neutral innkeeper made a hand gesture that pointed to down the hallway and into the last room. Eloi Cairo watched attentively, quickly trying to formulate a plan to escape.

But something bizarre occurred. Prince Olivier went into the third last room, set the cage down inside a wardrobe, locking the wardrobe and headed out. As the door clicked shut, Eloi Cairo’s possible and plausible plans disintegrated into the darkness. How was he going to escape now? And also,

What is in the last room?