| | So, I did a timed writing of ten minutes doing NO prep going in, and here's the result:
Trouble was rampant in the kingdom. Men were
running from city to city, armed to the teeth and bearing messages of
ill will. Women hid in their houses, keeping the windows barred and
praying their husbands and sons would come back safely. And
children...well, the children just played in the street as usual,
throwing the occasional stick out at passing men. Children in the
kingdom of Balog were not renowned for their perceptiveness.
The
king sat on his throne, ruminating on the problems rife in his little
slice of the world. It had all started with that stupid traveling bard.
Telling those stories of grand feasts and recipes and about the revered
chefs of old. As far as the king was concerned, food making was for the
plebeians, not the nobility and middle classed folk.
But so few
people listened to him these days. Least of all the people he ruled. He
turned to his advisor, who was rolling a pie crust, and asked in a
voice weary with the burden of a thousand lives, “What can possibly be
done about this craze? Cooking is well and fine, but to take it to
these competitive extremes is barbaric and unproductive.”
The
advisor shrugged, careful not to mar the outline of his pie. “What can
you do sir to make it unpopular? It seems to me if it seems like an
uncool thing to do, people will stop it.”
The king nodded,
rubbing his beard. “I could propose that anyone not a servant caught
baking be baked in his own house. I think that would make it uncool.”
The advisor paled, and shook his head. “No no no, sire! Try something that doesn't lessen tax revenue.”
The
king grimaced. “Ugh, why did I get this job? I'm not the problem solver
my father was. And he only got the job because he made the current king
so unpopular...how did he do that again?”
The advisor laughed.
“He told the most witty, true sounding stories about him at parties
that no one liked him anymore. He's still around, bumming a living off
of people who never went to parties and still are loyal. The most
uncool segment of the population, to be blunt.”
The king's eyes
glittered. “that's it! I'll get him, that old king, to cook something.
Bye Jove, I'll make him cook something fabulous! He'll enter it into
one of these stupid contests, and no one will like baking anymore. Oh
thank you, father, for providing this opportunity.”
The advisor bowed his head. “How unfortunate that he was drowned in the bathtub while playing submarine, sir.”
---Flynn (That's no blog entry. It's a moon.)
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| | Posted 11/22/2007 1:06 AM - 31 views - 4 comments
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