Tuesday, October 16, 2012

With the Crown's Permission

Mortimer cleaned and then sharpened his blade. It had been a long day of whacking here and whacking there; it seemed like the work would never end. How many traitors were there in the kingdom, he wondered.

“Would ya rub a little liniment into me biceps lass” he called to his wife Betunia, “I’m crampin up a bit.”

Betty pulled up a stool next to her man and wet her hands with smelly oil. As she massaged his massive muscles she noted he wasn’t his normal self.

“Usually my dear you are overwrought after a day of executions, flooded with guilt for what you’ve been party to. You seem so relaxed! Why should today be any different?”

“The King has a royal ‘and in my demeanor my love” he answered with a shrug. “ 'e’s begun calling these ‘Casual Fridays’, and thus ‘as removed the angst from me weary shoulders!”

“I’m happy for you my sweet” Betty sighed.

“Well” said Mort, “I still favor ‘Titular Tuesdays’ when I’m lopping the ‘eads of nobilities. I’m ‘appy to suffer guilt when such deserving necks are severed! But it’s nice to ‘ave a day to be indifferent altogether.”

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