Wednesday, June 3, 2020

Short Story: Meat Pie

Once upon a time in a closeby land because not all lands are far away. Sometimes it’s just 10 meters away from you, that big magical land you dream about. Now I know what you’ll say.
Oh, but where’s the magic?
Well, the magic is in the mind of the believer. Now let’s get on with the story before I burn my meat pie.

Sweety, won’t you keep an eye on the oven.
There was a cruel king like in all fairy tales but this is a real tale so of course, he was cruel but he wasn’t really a king, just a madman who believed the world was his for the taking and he lived right there. You see it, kids?
Um. There’s nothing there. It’s barren land.
Exactly. He was a homeless beggar who called himself King Arthur and believed that empty land was his kingdom. He woke up yelling at his servants, hitting his slaves, killing most of his subjects.
But nobody ever goes there. Who would he kill? Ah, he found some insects and stray dogs who’d get in looking for some food and too weak to run away. I saw him torture one for five weeks before he killed and ate it. Took too long if you ask me.
Ewww. Where’s the magic in that?
Oh, but don’t you see. The dog, it wasn’t a dog, it was a flea who dreamed of being a dog and then one day woke up and saw that it WAS a dog. There’s something magical for you. Anyway, the cruel king also dreamt and wished for things. Wished to rule more kingdoms than he did. To be able to hurt more people than he did. To be able to eat more than just trespassers on his land.
Honey, are you keeping an eye on the oven?
I don’t want to serve you burnt meat pie.
Why did you stop?
Why did you stop with the story?
Oh, but it is over. Nothing magical happened. He remained a homeless beggar. Kept killing cockroaches. Sleeping and yelling in his sleep. I got so tired of it all.
But where did he go?
He’s not in his made-up castle, so where did he go?
Something’s cooking up in that devilish mind of yours isn’t it, little girl?
The meat pie is done.
Jonathan. Didn’t I fuckin tell you to keep an eye on the oven?
But I told you the meat pie is done.
Yes, you did. But I still see both your eyes. And they’re stuck in your sockets and not on the oven like I asked you to keep.
Oh no dear rose. Don’t be afraid. We’re just about to have a royal feast.


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