The king and his servant went out for a walk in the dim sunlight of winter
"greetings" shouted the king. "how are you doing Mr. Fox?"
"oh, it's you again" displeased looked the man. "what have you to bother me with today?" said the man.
"nothing but my new novel. That I wrote, might I add" said the king with a raised nose, hand on chest.
Alphonse then remembered, upon the subject of novels, that he had to return a book to the library; A song of lust and desire: A clash of Bra's.
"please, rape my ears your highness"
"privet reader! Read to the man some of my exquisite work" he said with all confidence.
"immediately sir" Alphonse opened the book, as if awaiting to rape the man's ears. "chapter one: the rabbit raced the turtle who had challenged him. And to no one's surprise, the rabbit won while the turtle was still at the start line. "you lost like the bitch you are, turtle—""
"stop, please" interrupted the man. "this is utter fecal matter. I mean what are we supposed to learn from this . . . also, a turtle is a turtle, it can't be a bitch at the same time" snapped the man.
"fecal matter your face" the king raised a fist. "this story has many morals. Tell him private reader"
"of course sir" he said. Then raised his voice. "this story has many morals"
"is that so, such as what?" begged the man for answers.
"why, such as: pampered kings are bad writers"
"oh really? Next you'll say I'm an idiot" the king waved an arm.
"as you wish sir" Alphonse nodded. "you are an idiot" he spat out.
END
Await upcoming volumes, sir.
YOU ARE READING
SIR,
HumorThe super ordinarily regular adventures of a cleaver servant and his dumb-ass king.
