Tale of the Week 293: Tyrant - VOTING THREAD
Keywords
Warlord
Emperor
Han
Conspirator
Love
You have ONE vote.
Submission 1 EMPEROR Hey Yoo, was not happy, and neither should he be.
For his son, Hoo Mee, had been named champion bee keeper in
The whole of the HAN dynasty.
“What a liberty!” shouted Yoo; “He don’t even know what bees he’s got”
“Don’t go on Sid“, answered Mrs Yoo,
“Well, I’ve been keeping bees for years, always won first prize”
“Maybe he had help dear” replied Mrs Yoo.
“Yeah, I bet the little toe rag got one of the minions to do all
The work, and then he takes all the credit”
“Ooh, Sid, how rude!” snapped Mrs Yoo
“Rude my arris Maude, that boy is a snake, and I intend to find
The CONSPIRATOR behind this debacle”
On the dynasty grapevine, a reward of ten gold pieces was on offer
To whom ever gave information about Prince Mee and his co-CONSPIRITOR.
The ears of the great WARLORD Ping Pong, received the news, he knew exactly
Who helped the Prince, and, it may put paid to the little sod, dating his daughter.
A message was sent to Emperor Yoo, he was to meet an informer in the Cock
And Trumpet public house at seven that night.
The mighty men sat facing each other.
“Right, how did he do it Pong?” asked Yoo
“He let the bees out, at six in the evening, they flew to the Lavender park,
Nicked all the nectar off the blossom trees, and as you know, it’s the best
In the whole dynasty” replied Pong.
“Hold up” said Yoo, that park closes at five thirty, so how did he get the bees in?”
“This is where he was clever, he got a minion, to drill a hole in the fence“.
And so, it came to pass, that even though, Prince Mee and his honey was
LOVED by every citizen in the Han dynasty, noot one person would ever
Admit to eating it, for fear of upsetting Emperor Yoo.
Except Mrs Yoo, who made sure it was on his toast, every morning.
Submission 2 Large Hydron Piņa Colada
On Titan, the largest moon in Saturn’s orbit, life was never easy, but the current state of affairs was a state of gloom unknown anywhere else in the galaxy. Gang fights were common, and many more deaths occured than ever were reported to any authorities, in what capacity authorities even existed. Life on this lifeless rock was difficult after the Han Corporation went under a few decades back. When large quantities of rare minerals was first discovered here back in the 60’s, people and entities all rushed here to get a piece of the cake, but as the resources dried up people either went back home or ended up stranded. Those left now are those too poor to make it back home, and those with no home to go back to. The Han had been the only holdout who wouldn’t give up hope on Titan, and it ultimately led to its bankruptcy and utter annihilation.
Pondering this sad fact of life, Magnesium Thyroid ordered another Large Hydron Piņa Colada. The bartender got a tiny, artificial of course, star from a container and mixed the drink in its orbit, letting the liquids flush around in the gravitational field. In this tiny, man-made reality time was different, faster. Organisms formed in the circling waters, cultures grew and died, civilizations were born in the alcoholic galaxy and warlordsconquered and were conquered. Over the course of a hundred fish-years, Magnesium’s open mouth appeared in orbit, slowly approaching. Towards the end, old timers would recall a world where the giant God-Emperorin the sky was much further away, and its approach was taken as a sign of prosperity and the love he showed his chosen people.
Magnesium downed the drink in one go, immediately extinguishing a million lives he would never know about. He was the first to arrive, the vanguard of conspiratorswho would soon make common cause with him. Since murder was not illegal on Titan, it was all the more dangerous to plan one; leave just one friend of the enemy alive, and they might just murder you back for murdering their friend, an evil cycle which only ends once one side murders everyone on the other side. With these evil thoughts, Magnesium heard the bar door open, and went to welcome his friends. There were plans to be made.
Submission 3 The smuggler sat at a side booth in a dark bar filled with vagabonds and killers of every stripe. Some had matted hair that looked more like fur. Some had faces that were scarred and broken, fronted by bulbous noses. Some bore the appearance of fairytale monsters and demons, and yet, somehow, they appeared least harmful of all.
The smuggler sat calmly, nursing his third drink, waiting for a warlord to sit in the seat opposite, and he let his eyes casually wander the room, taking in the sour sights of so much scum and villainy. However, between the men and beasts, he failed to spy the one person he was to meet. The man was supposed to have been there already, waiting for him, and yet the smuggler could see no trace of him. There was nothing but the thousand faces of lesser criminals, their heads ever so slightly bobbing to the tune of the band that played in one corner.
His attention momentarily elsewhere, the smuggler did not notice an individual sliding sidelong towards him from the far wall, and when finally he did see the approaching figure, he, or she, or it, was already sitting down, taking the empty seat meant for the absent warlord.
“Do you know who I am, Spice Runner?” the newcomer hissed.
“Can’t say that I do.” the smuggler answered in easy, charming tones. “But I’m waiting for someone, so you’ll need to be going.”
The newcomer’s eyes narrowed. “Hush yourself, spice runner.” it snapped, the words sounding like steam escaping from a broken pipe. “I am a hunter, and I have seen your face before. You are wanted by the Emperor.”
“Could be.” the smuggler replied. “A lot of people are wanted by the emperor these days.”
“Yes. But only one of them sits before me now.” The newcomer then leaned in closer, arcing its back over the table. “I can almost taste the reward.” it purred, flicking its tongue in and out like a snake.
The smuggler, who through the whole discussion had continued to watch the room, finally turned to face the hissing newcomer before him. “Listen, bub,” he said quietly, as though to a fellow conspirator, “I really don’t have time for this, but if you come back later we can talk more.”
The newcomer leaned back and growled, deep in its throat. “No. You are coming with me. Now! And I must say, I have been looking forward to this catch for a long time.”
“Yes. I bet you have.” the smuggler answered with a smile, and from below the table he fired his blaster. With a flash of sparks and cloud of smoke, the newcomer fell forward, his flickering tongue finally stilled, and Han rose to his feet. Shaking his head, he made his way toward Chewie, near the cantina entrance. “Well, old pal, I don’t love how often that happens here.” he said, and together they left, losing themselves in the noisy streets of Mos Eisley.
Reply With Quote
