speak+up

Lost in your own thoughts, you travel with the princess to the royal palace, blabbering over and over about how the weather was nice for a quaint walk in the sun. Again, you go on and on about the latest fads in fashion. The princess will not take it. You've wasted your breath. You blink. And you have arrived. The palace, the throne room, the riches and the red carpet all laid out before you. Was it two hours, Two minutes it took you to get there? You have no time to contemplate. You are left alone with the princess, the king, and a beautiful fresco amassing the entire surface area of the ceiling? Is that Michelangelo? You wonder. It’d be an interesting place for him to paint –the Republic of Georgia. He was Italian of course- “So. You peasant pig. You ruin my daughter’s carriage, yeah?” the king speaks with irritation and impatience. You explain the whole situation rather hastily and fall over nearly every word you speak. Who are you, a soybean farmer from the coast, to address the king? “Yes daddy, the cute peasant boy dented it SOO badly. And he hasn’t said anything to apologize till now.” The princess states in a very whiny tone. “I’d very much like to see his head on my mantle…if it isn’t too much trouble.” She adds sheepishly. You stare in disbelief. Can it really all end here? Who will tend to the farm? What if mother had arranged for him to marry someone? Mother had been discussing those kind of things as of late. Oh the pure humanity of the situation! It must be a nightmare, you say. Wake up! Wake up! You do not wake up. The king states tensely and mater-of-factly, “You sir will be execute. Mother Russia, errrr, Georgia will take your death as example of what happens when peasant like you make my daughter angry.” His accent is impeccable you remark.



From the holster of the guillotine you look up. There she is in all of her unadulterated grace. She stares at you amusingly. Oh, she knows you’re cute. She totally digs you. Too bad it’s all gotta end so soon, you think. “I am about to — or I am going to — die: either expression is correct.” You say. The blade drops.

Fin.