the king

2002-07-22 - 4:56 p.m.

The stage filled with musicians, each dressed formally despite the oppressive heat slamming down from above and radiating in waves from the pavement below. The music began, triumphant, grooving, full of horns, organ, and pulsing with a rhythm section that stirred our internal organs. At the front of the stage stood a red velvet throne, ornamented in gold, holding open the only available space on the stage. A microphone waited patiently in front of the throne and the music continued, whipping the crowd into a dancing, chanting, screaming frenzy. They began a second song, and the throne remained empty. We began to wonder what could have happened, or was this all planned as an enforced delay of gratification?

All at once, a mass of people hit the wings and parted...supported on both sides, but still looking the part, entered the king. A purple robe draped over his shoulders and down to skirt around his gleaming shoes. The crowd let forth an ovation to welcome their king as he and his entourage made their way to the throne and the band continued their pulsing groove. He put down his sceptre in favour of the microphone he preferred, shrugged off the cape as he settled into the throne and gave the people what they'd come for.

Pretend it's 10th grade. Leave me a note.

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