The Beast of 2020

A Twisted Tale of the Rainforest

There once was a woman who lived in the rainforest with her husband, two dogs, one feral chicken, and an imaginary cat. Life was normal, even boring, until 2020 showed up. It wombled in like a Jabberwocky wearing muddy boots and a yellow rain slicker. It was dragging the Sickness, but no one recognized it.

Oh, there were a few that peeked around the edges and suspected things might go awry. They wondered why the King in his golden tower didn’t speak to it, as he had the power to hold it at bay with a simple decree, but he stayed his normal course of feasting and jousting with his court. All was well in the golden tower, his ministers said so. For a small moment, he wondered about the message from the neighboring kingdom warning them that the beast had passed through leaving the Sickness. The Jester, who in the Kings opinion always gave the best advice, had told him not to worry. Just give the peasants a month’s supply of oats so they can keep working and we can continue to make merry. If we ignore 2020, it will just go away.

But 2020 was wily, and meeting no resistance from King and court, did proceed to travel amongst the border towns, where kingdoms meet kingdoms, and travelers are wont to go. He bestowed on many small parting gifts as they came and went. They were all unaware of his dark magic, the touch of his breath, the pat of hand on shoulder. It was not flashy like the fire of a dragon. It moved unseen and swirled around each traveler as they received his treasure and carried it home. It grew unbidden and unseen, passing to family and friends as they returned home.

All too late, the people of the kingdom saw that the messenger’s words were true. They hid in their homes to avoid the beast. Hide from the breath, run from the touch! When the month’s supply of oats was exhausted, they were forced by need to creep out, faces hidden by masks, avoiding those who might pass on the gift of the beast. They devised anti-magic washes to void the touch, but they were rare and valuable. Each household was allotted only a small supply, enough for single person to venture out to trade for needed goods.

The woman in the rainforest debated with her husband. “Which of us is least susceptible to this magic, this sickness?” They consulted with the two dogs, one feral chicken, and the imaginary cat. It was the cat who determined that the woman would most likely prevail. “I will tell you how to make your own anti-magic wash, but in exchange for the formula, you must swear to complete this task. Spread the word that a new King must be chosen and the old deposed. It’s the price that 2020 demands to remove the dark magic.”

And so, it was, that she agreed, coated herself with anti-magic wash, donned her most powerful face mask, and headed to the village market to trade for goods and tell the people about the quest for a new King. The word went out from person to person, and village to village. “We need a new King. Find us a new King!”. They determined that candidates should be brought forth and the people should vote.

When this news reached the King in the golden tower, he laughed. “I’m the best King, with the best advisors! You only need me! The Sickness is imaginary — a tale carried by my enemies. Why, it will be gone when you wake. Besides, my adviser’s will send you another bag of oats with my name on it, the Jester said so.”

The woman and her husband pondered this, as did all the people in the kingdom. They consulted with the imaginary cat who in his wisdom informed them, “The word of the King cannot be trusted. The vote must be held if the Kingdom is to prevail! Make haste!” And so, the villages each brought their most upstanding citizen to the gate of the golden tower and there they each extoled their best plan to deal with 2020 and its sickness. And then the vote began. Oh, there were some who were fooled by the words of the King in the tower. “We don’t need a new king, 2020 and the sickness will be over tomorrow. Why change now? He has the best advisers!” But when the final votes were counted, a new King had been chosen to lead the people out of the clutches of 2020.

“Huzzah! Hooray!” they celebrated in the streets donned in their best masks and doused in anti-magical wash. We will soon vanquish the black magic of 2020! Let us seat our new King and his advisors — open the doors of the golden tower so we may regain our lives!” But the former King refused to hear them, and the gates remained closed. His advisors locked arms with him, and they continued in their old ways of feasting and jousting. The Jester entertained them with his witty advice.

The people of the Kingdom were astounded at being treated with such disregard. “It’s the will of the people you blackguard! Begone!” But the merrymaking only grew louder from within the golden tower. The crowd stood, mouths agape, unsure what would now happen. A voice broke the silence. It was the imaginary cat. “Build a great, new house for our new King”. We will call it “The Whitehouse”, and it will belong to the people. From its halls our new King will hear us and rid us of 2020. Brick in the golden tower and leave its minions inside. We will hear them no more.” And so, they did.

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