Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Jun 12, 2012 2:48:52 GMT -5
Chapter One
Emperor Tragedy woke up and stretched. He accepted a damp washcloth from the waiting F.D. and wiped his brow, then tossed it aside and smiled. Today was going to be a good day.
His shoes were waiting by the side of his bed, freshly polished and gleaming in the rays of sunlight that his bedroom's large window let in. He started to reach down to tie them, then remembered he had a lot to do today - tomorrow was his birthday, after all! He whistled two notes and Groge came running in 5 seconds later, face red.
"What can I do for you, your highness?" he asked. Tragedy said nothing, but pointed to his shoes, and Groge got to work on tying them. Next, the emperor pointed to his wardrobe and Groge, inwardly shuddering, dressed his master.
Suitably attired, Tragedy continued on to the dining room, the aromas of bacon, eggs, and freshly baked biscuits wafting out in to the hallway. Sitting at his chair, Tragedy frowned. "I wanted waffles this morning," he complained to Linda, who was attempting to tie a napkin around his neck.
"But your grace, you said-"
"But I want WAFFLES!" he shouted, and Linda scurried away to the kitchen, returning moments later with a jug of syrup and a butter dish. Sherry Ann appeared out of nowhere and sang him a Beyonce song, and by the time she was finished, Linda was back with a steaming plate of waffles. "Finally," he said. "You're such a slow cook, Linda. I could have starved." he watched as Sophie Baudelaire cut his waffles into little pieces for him, then began to eat.
Next, it was time for his morning workout. Walking into the gym, his eyes scanned the room, looking over the elliptical, the benchpress, the small weights, the treadmill, and the giant trampoline. Finally he decided to skip them all and watch a music video on the wall-length flat screen instead, singing and dancing along.
His workout was going well. He was almost to the part where the dancer did a complicated spinny move; he'd been practicing and knew he was going to do it right this time. But then he heard the door opening. Pausing the video and looking back, he saw a weird-looking old guy peeking inside. "I - I - I think I'm lost," the man stuttered. "My name is Hermes, and-"
"How dare you interrupt we when I'm working out!" Tragedy shouted. "Guards!" Tiago Squalor was at the door in moments, leading the old man by the hand. Tragedy sighed, then got back to learning his difficult move. He still couldn't do it right, but it was all that dumb geezer's fault, he told himself. Workout over, he took a quick shower, and Bryan was ready afterwards with a big fluffy towel.
Finally, it was time to sit on his throne. Tragedy liked his throne; it was so tall he had to use an elevator to reach it, and it had built-in shoulder and foot massagers and a surround sound speaker system so hecould listen to Beyonce whenever he wanted. Lots of boring citizens came and asked him for help while he was on his throne, but apparently that was part of being an emperor. Sometimes he played a game where he put earplugs in while they were talking so he couldn't hear them, then made up their side of the conversation in his said and responded accordingly.
This time, though, he could hear voices in his throne room already. What was going on? Tiango hadn't let the peasants in early, had he? Tragedy snuck in through the side door and saw Pandora, his advisor, sitting on his throne. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do for you," she was saying, and the citizen was sputtering.
"But my mom, something something mumble mumble, IT'S NOT FAIR!"
Pandora whistled and Tiago was there, pulling him out of the room. "Seriously, freebird, why don't you give it a rest?" they heard him say as the two left the room.
"Hey Pandora!" Tragedy called up to the throne.
"Oh, look, Pandora! Tragedy's here!" Willis, Pandora's personal assistant, exclaimed. "Oh..uh uh, I don't think you're supposed to be sitting there. That's Tragedy's seat."
"That's exactly right Willis," Tragedy said. "Pandora, what are you doing in my throne?"
"Well, I was, um, you see-"
"Yes I do see," Tragedy said. Pandora had been a helpful advisor for many years, but it was clear that she thought her seniority gave her special privileges. This could not do. "Pandora, you're fired."
Emperor Tragedy woke up and stretched. He accepted a damp washcloth from the waiting F.D. and wiped his brow, then tossed it aside and smiled. Today was going to be a good day.
His shoes were waiting by the side of his bed, freshly polished and gleaming in the rays of sunlight that his bedroom's large window let in. He started to reach down to tie them, then remembered he had a lot to do today - tomorrow was his birthday, after all! He whistled two notes and Groge came running in 5 seconds later, face red.
"What can I do for you, your highness?" he asked. Tragedy said nothing, but pointed to his shoes, and Groge got to work on tying them. Next, the emperor pointed to his wardrobe and Groge, inwardly shuddering, dressed his master.
Suitably attired, Tragedy continued on to the dining room, the aromas of bacon, eggs, and freshly baked biscuits wafting out in to the hallway. Sitting at his chair, Tragedy frowned. "I wanted waffles this morning," he complained to Linda, who was attempting to tie a napkin around his neck.
"But your grace, you said-"
"But I want WAFFLES!" he shouted, and Linda scurried away to the kitchen, returning moments later with a jug of syrup and a butter dish. Sherry Ann appeared out of nowhere and sang him a Beyonce song, and by the time she was finished, Linda was back with a steaming plate of waffles. "Finally," he said. "You're such a slow cook, Linda. I could have starved." he watched as Sophie Baudelaire cut his waffles into little pieces for him, then began to eat.
Next, it was time for his morning workout. Walking into the gym, his eyes scanned the room, looking over the elliptical, the benchpress, the small weights, the treadmill, and the giant trampoline. Finally he decided to skip them all and watch a music video on the wall-length flat screen instead, singing and dancing along.
His workout was going well. He was almost to the part where the dancer did a complicated spinny move; he'd been practicing and knew he was going to do it right this time. But then he heard the door opening. Pausing the video and looking back, he saw a weird-looking old guy peeking inside. "I - I - I think I'm lost," the man stuttered. "My name is Hermes, and-"
"How dare you interrupt we when I'm working out!" Tragedy shouted. "Guards!" Tiago Squalor was at the door in moments, leading the old man by the hand. Tragedy sighed, then got back to learning his difficult move. He still couldn't do it right, but it was all that dumb geezer's fault, he told himself. Workout over, he took a quick shower, and Bryan was ready afterwards with a big fluffy towel.
Finally, it was time to sit on his throne. Tragedy liked his throne; it was so tall he had to use an elevator to reach it, and it had built-in shoulder and foot massagers and a surround sound speaker system so hecould listen to Beyonce whenever he wanted. Lots of boring citizens came and asked him for help while he was on his throne, but apparently that was part of being an emperor. Sometimes he played a game where he put earplugs in while they were talking so he couldn't hear them, then made up their side of the conversation in his said and responded accordingly.
This time, though, he could hear voices in his throne room already. What was going on? Tiango hadn't let the peasants in early, had he? Tragedy snuck in through the side door and saw Pandora, his advisor, sitting on his throne. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do for you," she was saying, and the citizen was sputtering.
"But my mom, something something mumble mumble, IT'S NOT FAIR!"
Pandora whistled and Tiago was there, pulling him out of the room. "Seriously, freebird, why don't you give it a rest?" they heard him say as the two left the room.
"Hey Pandora!" Tragedy called up to the throne.
"Oh, look, Pandora! Tragedy's here!" Willis, Pandora's personal assistant, exclaimed. "Oh..uh uh, I don't think you're supposed to be sitting there. That's Tragedy's seat."
"That's exactly right Willis," Tragedy said. "Pandora, what are you doing in my throne?"
"Well, I was, um, you see-"
"Yes I do see," Tragedy said. Pandora had been a helpful advisor for many years, but it was clear that she thought her seniority gave her special privileges. This could not do. "Pandora, you're fired."