You are currently browsing the daily archive for November 13th, 2007.
Once upon a time in a far away land, accessible neither by Mapquest nor GPS, the Kingdom of Spo resided between the State of Anxiety and the State of Panic, and East of the Sun and West of the Moon etc.
The people of Kingdom of Spo were well over four feet, and many flossed their teeth daily, but not all, despite the recommendation of the dental hygienist from the far away Great White North.
The Kingdom of Spo was a peaceful place, without strip malls or chain restaurants. There were no whiners or complainers or people with disability papers to fill out, as they had all moved to the nearby State of Confusion.
The kingdom had one problem. In the northwest part where urban sprawl hadn’t yet occurred, there stood a tall tower in which resided an old witch. She was well over four feet. She was a nasty old thing who cast spells on passers by, and seldom remembered to recycle her empties. Once the Prime Minister Radcliffe was sent to talk to her, or at least to collect the empties, but she merely turned him into a troll. The kingdom was outraged.
She was the one thorn in this otherwise rosy kingdom - she and the kingdom’s one Starbucks. (Which had no drive through by the way!) Modest proposals were given to get her to shape up or ship out but none seemed practical. Getting her to manage the Starbucks seemed a good way to kill two birds with one stone. Setting the fire breathing dragons on her had appeal, but they were gainfully employed burning the kingdom’s garbage and the union would not have it.
The King of Spo (who was Emperor too) had to take care of it himself. He is sick and tired of being “The Savior of the Universe” but it is in his job description. He went to the base of the tower and cried out, using his best butch voice;
“Old Black Witch! Stop making blueberry pancakes and come out! Cease with the tossing out of random spells and #1 and #2 plastic items!”
She turned off Project Runway and peered down at the extraordinary handsome man.
“And who are you to call out so?”
“I am the head cheese and Poobah” (as Mr. Sorted would say).
“And what were you before you were Poobah?”
“I was a psychiatrist. (That made her pause – no one likes talking to a psychiatrist) “What were you before you were a witch?”
“I suppose I was a girl.”
“Well, why did you become a witch?”
“I suppose I thought it would be fun, but it is not”
“And how does that make you feel? (The King was using his most barbarous weapon)
“Awful. Can you give me some Xanax? I wish I was a girl again.”
The witch forgot that whatever she wished for became so. And with a flash she was instantly transformed into a young girl. The King clamped an ipod on her head, and she was never heard from again. And yes I said yes I will yes.
The kingdom rejoiced. Everyone was pleased – everyone but the Spo King, who forgot to collect the co-pay before she made her follow up appointment.
Moral – get the money first.
