#82 — The Beast of 2020 Redux

Fairy tale or scary tale? You decide.

In the original twisted tale, The Beast of 2020, our heroine found herself at the mercy of a horrible beast, 2020, which brought with it The Sickness. It invaded the rainforest kingdom from a foreign land, forcing the denizens to hide, emerging to forage for supplies only if they could obtain magical wash to douse themselves against The Sickness.

The people looked to the King to emerge from his golden tower and vanquish their foe, but on the advice of his Jester, he ignored the threat, issued a month's supply of oats to his subjects, and returned to the tower to party with his court.

On the advice of a wise, but imaginary cat, the people decided to hold an election and choose a new King. After selecting their new champion, the people of the land rejoiced and accompanied their new King to the golden tower to begin his rule, only to find the old King unwilling to relinquish his power and leave.

Again, the imaginary cat offered his most sage advice, and instructed them to build a “Whitehouse” for their new King and brick up the golden tower with the old King and his minions left inside and ignore them.

And here is where we left the story.

“And the woman and her husband, with their two dogs, one feral chicken, and the imaginary cat, went home to the rainforest and lived happily ever after.

The End”

Only, it wasn’t the end.

The old King in the tower, surrounded by his court (which was made up entirely of Jesters at this point), insisted that he was the BEST and ONLY king.

The noblemen of the land fought among themselves. Some thought it was true, some thought it was a BIG LIE. The kingdom struggled to restore itself.

During the ensuing months, the new King sent his knights to vanquish The Sickness from the land, but it was a constant battle, for the people had grown complacent about their own safety. Some even quit believing in the power of the Magical Washes to shield themselves from harm. Most of all, they longed to return to the days of feasting, jousting, and buying in the markets.

Therein was their downfall.

In every pub across the land, fantastical tales of “the good old days” grew and grew. Unbeknownst to the common people, the village idiots took the tales to heart and at their next quarterly meeting, decided to take matters into their own hands.

By the light of the next full moon, they met at the base of the tower and through sheer brute force, tore down the brick wall that kept the old King and his court locked away.

Realizing they had been set free, the Jesters ran immediately throughout the kingdom reading proclamations issued by the old King demanding that elections of new noblemen should be held and entering his hand-picked henchmen in each contest.

The henchmen were a motley crew of sycophants and misfits, but they were loyal to the old King (at least in public). Among them were:

• The Ladies of Bimbo, Blondea and Brunettia. They were former barmaids who loved to appear in public adorned with weapons, where they would spout non-sensical religious doctrines, which they neither understood nor followed, as well as pseudo-profound statements of judgement against their opponents which demonstrated their complete lack of understanding of the common language.
• Lord Panhandle Pete, who styled himself after Grandpa of the Munster district, loved to take vacations just when his neighbors needed his help. The old King told him he needed to get a trophy wife, but he pretended not to hear.
• Baron Swilliam, of Swamp Castle Estates, whose mission in life was to un-do any good done by previous generations of nobles on behalf of the common folk of his district and to keep his people from reading books. He secretly (or maybe not so secretly) wanted to dispense with the old King and take his place.

and

• Sir Randall Rocks-in-the-head, a former tournament champion, who, having been bashed in the noggin numerous times during his career, could now be convinced that he was a statesman, even in a state not his own. (We can’t say his many former lovers and bastard children didn’t try to warn us.)

And so, the henchmen and the people’s candidates debated. The bards spread the tales throughout the land and took bets on who might win the contests. The battle on election day was fierce, but when the smoke cleared, everyone, including the woman and the imaginary cat, gathered in the towns to hear the results announced.

And with much fanfare the bards were lifted high and proclaimed, “The House of Earls will be ruled by the people’s choices and the House of Barons will be ruled by the henchmen.”

Yes, it seemed that the kingdom was divided and would be ruled again in the old way — by tug-of-war contests between the Earls and the Barons, with nothing accomplished on a daily basis henceforth.

The woman and the imaginary cat looked at each other. The cat shrugged. “It could have been worse,” he said.

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “Nothing to be done until someone demands another election.”

“Quite right. Shall we go back to our rainforest and hide?” He gestured to the road.

“Yes, I think we shall.”

And so, they did.

The End. Again. (Or is it?)

Taressa Watson lives and writes in Pele’s rainforest with her husband, two dogs, one feral chicken, and an imaginary cat. She writes fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and blogs about life.