Tuesday, November 03, 2009

My Humiliation

And so it came to pass that Ian Tracy, resident of the court and child to Darel and Karla, count and countess of Eagle and the South, did profess with gun and repeated ventures to the woodlands to kill something larger than a hedgehog. As the days of such venture increased in number, so did the mocking words of the Marquis of Mojo. He didst rail on the young man. In his humor, he offered to bow down to young Tracy if any blood be spilt. The days and nights of seeking continued apace. The Marquis words were forgotten except when another opportunity to joke at the lad's expense arose.

Then, one night, as the court sat robustly feasting on goodly victuals, the young Nimrod stood in the door. His hands dripped with the blood o f his prey. He pointed at the Marquis whose heart turned to stone within him. Courtiers and ladies in dumbstuck silence paraded their crushed overlord into the street . The weight of his vow pushed him to his knees and he did homage to the killer of stags and young women's hearts.

The moral of the story: It is better that you not vow, than vow and not pay.


Notes from the Underground said...

I am sure that only Henry II, while doing his penance for Thomas Beckett, could possibly understand such a burden. I should hope that you were allowed to partake in the consumption of said game.

Kenneth said...

What, you have to pay one time in twenty five, and you gripe? Look at the joy you brought the lad. What should bother you is that he did not remove most of the hide before bringing it to you, potentially damaging the meat...which should have been cooled fast.