Once upon a
thyme there was a king known for his unique resolution. All will agree one’s
resolve must be great to stand upon such a tiny blade. Believing less was more
he chose words over swords as the method of ending conflicts. In celebration of
himself he held a duel once a year wherein wit was the weapon of choice. A duke and a baron two must face each other.
Vulgarity could be tolerated but it must be dressed like a window in shades of
grey.
All who
participated must treat their opponent. While this had the side effect of twice
paid checks it also meant each must follow protocol as if their opponent was a
greater noble. The king, being a fan of white meat, was the sole arbitrator of
whether a comment crossed the line.
Duke Quayle and
Baron Lamb came from families long known to harbor ships plagued with hatred in
their hearts for each other. Given their druthers the two would have settled
their dispute with metal and blood over mettle and iron will. The king,
however, would not be denied his sport. The contest took place that year in the
great hall of Duke Quayle. As was tradition the baron was afforded the first
salvo.
“Pardon the
tardiness my lords. I was delayed as the duke’s wife gave us a tour. By way of
the kitchen she took us, showing myself and all my knights how ready fowl
females always are for a good stuffing and bred.”
Lamb looked to
the king, searching for an indication he had crossed the line. He saw none but
the king was known for his stoic visage in these events. Growing red at the
implication the duke wasted little time in his riposte.
“One would think
the baron to be a bit more sheepish. It is unsurprising his attacks start where
they do as all know he credits his own wife with him being barren.”
Now it was the baron’s
turn to run scarlet. Quayle beamed with pride at his attack. Lamb was
determined that like his line this contest would end with him. Unsurprisingly
as a bit of a fop he was always obsessed with the clothes.
“We must all
forgive the absence of Duke Quayles’ knights. Often absent during the day they
have reason now. This is a farming village and we all know the queen hates
being roused by noise. Thus upon the duke’s orders, thinking only of the queen
his knights are running around violently grabbing their cocks.”
Realizing the
balls on the baron the duke went for the juggler.
“The baron again
gives himself away. Being bereft of sons he is ruled by his knights. Thus his
mind wanders to mine having chickens in hand. A posture the baron is familiar
with from his dreams of reigning over the princess.”
“Lords,” the
king intoned as he rose. “Your willingness to taint my family in this contest
indicates you have both lost your heads.”
#comedy #shortstory #writer
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