Monday, December 12, 2016
The More Things Change
During the year-long celebration
of King Mongroid's 60th Birthday,
he suddenly died at a gluttonous
banquet.
King Desnerplait folded into
the celebrations, putting off
the official funeral for a year.
He soon dismissed the Southern
Castle's load of physicians, and
stocked it full of even more women.
Wine, Woman, Song, etc an understatement
concerning Plait, as the peasants called him.
The Northern Castle was peopled mostly
by herbalists, grinding potions for the
king which were entirely harmless.
Something worked though. He is 96 presently,
and states he will live forever.
As courtiers oiling everywhere in government and
commerce, his agree!
Labels: courtier, harem, herbs, kiss-ass, long life, Royalty, sex, women
Friday, January 30, 2015
-What's it like to be so so immensely rich?
-You've known me since kids, and a question like that?
Like from some cheap website!
-I'm curious sometimes. But haven't felt free to ask.
-You're free to say or do anything? How can I control you?
-Through that coal-black dude looks like a wall, watching
us while pretending not to.
-A gentle giant.
-I'm sure. And if I did a thing we did as kids assing around...
like grab that pen from that threadbare flannel shirt pocket...?
-He'd be all over you like a cheap suit!
-Being constantly watched! Jesus! Bodyguards!
-Used to it. And hate it. Both.
-Get death threats?
-Daily, I suppose. They don't tell me.
-Can you ever get alone?
-In the inner portions of the island. The bad guys can’t get
through the cameras on the perimeters.
-Owning an island. Like to try that!
-As everything, tremendous responsibility! Besides I don't
own it entirely. There's that resort.
-Felicity Blot? Who the hell ever heard of such a name?
-Lady author, Victorian times, pen and ink, and thus...
-The modern name is Fuck-a-Lot. Did you know that?
-No, I didn't.
-Another rich dude parks the crazy wife at Bide-a-Bit, and
then breaks in the new secretary there. A giggler!
-Whatever. I can’t supervise the morality there.
-Bullshit! You own the resort too!
-I can't say that I do.
-Yeah, for tax purposes--where you're a criminal, really.
-True, but a legal one.
-How can you live with yourself?
-Rather easily when it's only me.
-Meeting in Paris apartment next, according to
Wall Street Journal. Girl in every port sort of thing?
-All business. Drenched in business.
-And scaring the shit outa the guys in suits, I'll bet.
-A regrettable part, always.
-You really are a prick after all's said and done!
-Guilty. But the only way I keep things in line.
-Then London? Rio?
-Same show. Thence back to island.
-Where the female employees of the resort constitute a harem.
-I only can handle one at a time!
-Life is mostly an immense cramp in the balls for you, but it
has, yes?, its compensations?
-Love that last word!
Labels: friendship, guys in suits, harem, island, London, Paris, protection, resort, Rio, tax avoidance, tax fraud, wealthy, women, WSJ
