Tale of the Week 5 - Submissions

[Aldgarkalaughskel]

This shot was taken by me, and I think it will be a good storymaker.

Its name is The Gaza Tea Party. The real funny thing is I couldnt get space to join the crusading siege, and I was too lazy to join the queue...




So post your story...

Rules:

1. Post a short text about this picture, with min. 200 max. 300 words, in a spoiler, with the picture in the front.
2. If you are a contestant you are honour bound to not read other contestants' writings until you have submitted yours.
3. The winner gets 1 point on the Leaderboard, if there are at least 4 contestants.

[Legio]

The Kingdom of Heaven
The crusading lords had gathered in the East. The barbaric infidel had ran in the face of superior force and strength. From every European nation came a force accompanied by a prince, lord, or king. Each clamored to be the first on the walls, the first to flood through the breach of the shattered walls, to overwhelm the heavily outnumbered garrison.
The quarrel was initiated by Ludwig of Bavaria. He wanted to be through teh breaches in the walls first. He argued that his country had deserved it.
The Holy Roman Empire and the Kingdom of Sicily had sent the most troops. Surely it was they that deserved to purge the Holy Land?
But the Polish Crown Prince had come the farthest way. They had shown the most crusading zeal en route.
The Venetians had paid for most of the journey, and also provided the other armies with provisions.
Among with dozens of other squabbling lords.
The prevailing question was :Who should lead?
With the fighting that broke out between all the other crusaders, the attack faltered. The siege machines were left in utter disrepair. The frequent sallies by the garrison wreaked havoc on supplies and morale.
Eventually the crusade fragmented, each army going its own way. The Poles went back north, and their Crown Prince was spotted with a siege train near Hansa.
The Venetians sailed back to Venice, and then to Constantinople, sacking it.
The greatest infamy in Christendom was committed. And all because of an arrogant German prince.

[Juvenal]

Gaza Coffee-House Parting

Al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah sat outside his establishment, head hung low with an air of despondency. At intervals he addressed passers-by in desultory fashion on the quality of his services, with no success. Gaza was a small town and his girls, no beauties, were now known and loathed by his whole clientèle.

After a particularly rude brush-off, Hakim stood up in disgust and walked right out of town into the wilderness. After hours of circular thoughts about his problems he happened to look down and saw something glint.

Carefully clearing the rubble away, Hakim found that he had discovered an old battered oil lamp. Suddenly excited at this exemplar of childhood stories he gave it a good hard polish with a corner of his robe.

With a blaze of sparks and a cloud of acrid smoke the Djinn appeared (coughing). Hakim, fearful of being tricked, blurted out “I wish my girls were irresistible to men!”

The Djinn, nonplussed, abandoned his prepared speech and disappeared back into the lamp, the words “You got it bub” echoing in the rapidly dispersing cloud as he departed.

Hakim ran back to Gaza. A large queue of foreigners had already formed outside his premises. He noticed that they looked angry and carried much weaponry, so he ran down the line shouting loudly that this was Happy Hour and all prices were halved.

All proceeded well through the rest of the afternoon as Hakim’s purse grew ever heavier, but the queue was growing faster than customers could be satisfied and soon circled the whole town.

In the distance, Hakim saw a large contingent of Poles start a fracas with the Germans ahead of them. But then they seemed to come to an agreement and both groups turned as one and made straight for town.

Seeing the writing on the wall, Hakim made a run for it. The last thing he saw as he raised the sail of his skiff was the pillar of smoke as Gaza was sacked.

[zznɟ ǝɥʇ]

Letter to the Pope, April 1243
Your Eminence,

How are you? It's been a while since we played ball together. We should call the guys and try to get a game started sometime.

I'm writing to you from inside a mosque in the city of Gaza...yes, that Gaza. You know, the one you ordered all of Christendom to raze to the ground. What gives? It it cause I hooked up with Amanda? You know that wasn't me, it was the booze. And it was like twenty years ago. You've got to move on, bud.

As should be apparent, I'm a bit worried about your well-being. You've changed, man. Where's the carefree guy I knew back in college? Where's the guy that used to shotgun a beer in under a second? When did you hang up the toga for a big, silly hat? And where'd all these cultist followers come from, anyway? Those guys are bat**** insane. Completely bonkers.

So I'm looking out over the walls of the city, you know, looking at your cultists, and I gotta say, it's not a fair fight. I've got a few units of 'mercenary levy spearmen.' Do you know what they do? Neither do I. But with a name as generic as that, I'm willing to bet they suck. Not to mention the numbers involved--you'd think Gaza was hosting the World Cup! Public service announcement to religious nuts: you're at the wrong end of Africa, and a year or two early.

Look--we can work this out. Give me a call, tell your weird followers to go home, and let's chat. There's the big 25 year reunion in a few weeks. I'll be there, I trust I will see you there as well? First round is on me!

With sincerity,

Imam Kareem Abdul Jabbar