The King And His New Wardrobe
by Rue DeDay
Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Sousaphone, there was
a King, and a Queen. This is what made it a Kingdom. If they were an Emperor
and an Empress, then it would be an Empire. If it was a Divonary, the King
would be a Divon and the Queen would be a Diva. Did I mention this all takes
place in the Kingdom of Sousaphone. Near the Duchy of Tuba. I think you know
what I mean.
The King was due for some new clothes. The Royal Ermine
only lasts so long, you know. The King's name was Clifton. Clifton IX the
Just. It sounded better than "Clifton the Dangerously Inbred Who Was
Easily-Swayed By Others". That would not be a kingly name to inspire confidence.
The Queen's name was Imogene. She wasn't a sequel, so she was just "Imogene".
But this isn't about the Queen. She'd just go down to JC Penney's and get
her new clothes. She'd like to go to Nordstrom's, but they don't have one
of those in Sousaphone.
To get the finest clothes, the King called the finest tailors
to the Royal Court. It was a trailer park near the castle. He didn't want
all these tradesmen cluttering up his ancestral home. The King was
just that way. It's a wonder the lovely Imogene would put up with such a
putz. There's no accounting for True Love. There's also no accounting for
The Chance To Be Queen. Sometimes life is just a trade-off.
"Your Highness, lamé is so chic this year." said
the first tailor.
"No, I don't think so." said King Clifton.
"What about this fine ruff? It could hide your chin." said
the second tailor
"What was that?" said King Clifton, in what could be assumed
was a menacing tone of voice.
"nothing"
"Next!"
"Your Majesty, have I got a deal for
you!" said the third tailor. The third tailor is going to be around
for a while, so let's give him a name, shall we? I know the tailor could
be a girl, but Kelly's out of town. And he is kind of smarmy, so let's make
him a boy. OK? His name is Biff. But that's not what he calls himself. What
self-respecting King would want a Royal Tailor named "Biff"? He called himself
Mr. Michael, Tailor to the Stars. Since stars are huge balls of flaming gas,
and don't wear clothes, this was technically true. All the clothes your average
star would ever need, Mr. Michael could sew up in an afternoon. And still
have time for his soaps.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Just the finest thread imaginable. The finest threads
make the finest clothes. N'est-ce pas?"
"Was the French?" asked the King.
"What?"
"The "ness pah" thingy."
"Do you like French?" Mr. Michael might be smarmy,
but he's not stupid.
"Yeah, it's OK."
"Then it was French."
"I like the cut of your jib" the King had no idea what
this meant, but he heard it on TV one time. Tailors cut, so he figured it
would be appropriate to use now. And who's going to argue with the King?
"You are now the Royal Tailor."
All the other prospective Royal Tailors said "awwwwww!"
and went home.
Mr. Michael came to the castle the next day. He brought
a big box with him. He opened it before the King. He was standing closer,
so the King couldn't get there first. It was empty! Saints preserve us! He
brought an empty box to show the King.
"How do you like this?" asked Mr. Michael.
"Like what?" asked the King right back.
"These fine, fine threads. The fine, fine threads with
which I shall weave the cloth for your Royal Duds. Such a fine, fine thread
as this can only be seen by a highly sophisticated eye."
If the King was thinking he would have gotten a new tailor
right here. For the most part the King will be wearing his clothes, not before
highly sophisticated eyes, but in front of the average yutz in the street.
Are these the people you want to be wearing clothes made from invisible cloth
in front of?
"Ah! I see them now. The light caught them funny and I
couldn't spot them before. But I can spot those threads now. Maybe I should
tell the Diva of Tuba, or the Queen of Sousaphone, whatever, that I have
spotted fine, fine threads." And he went to the Queen with Mr. Michael in
tow.
"Lookit these fine, fine threads, my dear." said the King.
"You schmuck! You're holding a handful of air! Mr. Michael,
you are a charlatan. If I ever hear of you in my Kingdom again, things will
go hard for you. And NOT in the Good Way. And you, Royal Ninny, I am taking
you shopping for clothes myself."
Wise Queen Imogene took King Clifton the Just to JC Penney's
and got him new clothes. Sans-a-Belt slacks and glof shirts. He wanted golf
shirts, but they were all out. He wasn't the most styling King, but he was
comfy. And being comfy makes for a good King.
(For everyone who was waiting for an Elvis joke when the
saw "King", HA! The joke's on you! No "Elvis" joke.)
Posted 8/13/01