[AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay so writers are taught to ‘show, don’t tell.’ Meaning, make the story active. I need to get this thing done tonight [today is my cut-off date] so I’m going to power through this sucker. For the sake of efficiency, this may mean that I’ll be telling more than showing].
The first banquet had gone well. Myrtle re-created the same meal they had on their first date. She even wore the same dress. However, instead of asking the servers in the kitchen to make the meal, she did it herself. It didn’t taste very good but the king was so flattered by her effort, he pretended it was the best meal he ever ate in his entire life.
Some times a couple might apologize after a dispute but neither Zirk nor Myrtle did this time. They didn’t do it in a proud or un-communicative way. They were just so happy to have each other’s company again that whatever they were mad at each other for before kind of melted away. They laughed and joked the way they normally did and picked off where they last ended. The King was so happy with the way their reunion had gone that all he wanted to do was give her something back.
“What would you like, my love? A salmon buffet? A dead mouse that I hunted myself? Or perhaps a live mouse to play with and kill for yourself? I know how much you liked to do that on the farm. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“This makes me so happy,” she said, “and if it makes you happy to grant me my wish, then come to another feast tomorrow. Haman, please come, too.”
Both King Zirk and Haman agreed.
That night, all Haman could do was sing and dance and rub it in his friends’ and family’s faces about the fact that he was at the Queen’s banquet, “Me! I was there. Just me! Well, not just me. The king, too, but I was the only other person Queen Myrtle allowed to be there besides the King.”
But he said it in a very sing-song tone that was extremely annoying.
“Everything about today was the best,” he said, “The only thing that would make it better is if I could just do-away with Morty. Every time I think of him I just want rip his face off and string him by the neck.”
“Well,” said Haman’s wife, “Maybe you should.”
“Yeah,” said one of Haman’s friends, “Maybe you should build a gallows and hang him tomorrow.”
And because Haman had been drinking wine non-stop since the feast, he said, “Yeah. Brilliant. That’s a brilliant idea. I’m going to build a gallows and kill Morty tomorrow. Love it. Thanks, guys.”
Then he fell asleep right there on his kitchen table.
That night the king couldn’t sleep. He was never really the type to worry so he wasn’t sure why but whatever the case, he just could not rest. Whenever this happens, he likes to read history. Not only because he likes the subject but because it makes him sleepy. So he opened a book and started to read some of the recent archives. Eventually, he read the part about the two eunuchs who tried to assassinate him and how Morty was the one who turned them in.
The king couldn’t get over how kind Morty and Myrtle were to him. How they didn’t push their way forward to the front to get what they wanted. They just did kind things because, I don’t know, that just what they did. And it made the king want to do kind things, too.
The next morning, King Zirk asked Haman — who always has the best ideas — what he should do to honour someone. Inwardly, Haman was certain he was talking about himself. Like, the King obviously wants to honour me! Who else could there be to honour???
So Haman said, “Give the man a nice cape, pimp out his ride and then draw up a huge enough crowd to make him a parade.”
“What a good idea,” said the king, “I’m going to do this for Morty. Perhaps you could help me plan?”
Of course, what that really means is plan-it-for-me-please. Haman agreed, only because he had to but inwardly, he fumed. At least, he thought, I still have the banquet to look forward to. So he got ready for the final banquet and this time, Myrtle didn’t do any of the cooking but asked the chef to prepare something and it was a huge, lovely feast of kibblish delights.
Again, King Zirk sipped on his milk, the kind of milk that intoxicated his senses, and he asked Queen Myrtle for the second time, “What would you like, my love? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“Oh, your highness,” she said, “My request is that you spare my life and the life of my people.”
He was getting mad now. Not at Myrtle. He was getting into the manly-warrior anger, “Who would try to hurt you? Tell me who it is.”
“Only the the grossest, hairiest man we know named HAMAN!” and she pointed with disgust.
Immediately, the king got up and left to the courtyard. Knowing full well that he was about to be executed, he begged Myrtle for mercy as she lounged on the floor like the regal cat she is. He was too close for comfort.
“Please, please, your majesty. I — I,”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MUST YOU MOLEST HER IN FRONT OF ME?” bellowed the king.
Immediately, Haman was overtook by a league of cats who covered his face. One of them told the King about the gallows Haman built the night before.
“It’s his death sentence now,” said King Zirk and within moments, Haman was strung up on the gallows he had built for Morty.
And they all lived happily ever after.
[AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s a little bit more but I’ll fill you in on my epilogue/reflection tomorrow. The biggest thing is that the King and the Queen are back together and the Bad Guy is dead. HEY! I FINISHED THE STORY!!!]