Look on My Works Ye Mighty
and despair...
“If walls could talk,” Vern thought as he edged the door open with the toe of his leather boot. “Then I might understand the mystery of this odd bathroom,” he whispered as he peered inside.
He had never used this toilet before, after he heard it was creepy. But too much strong coffee this morning at the student breakfast made it a necessity. The ornate statues and the colorful marble mosaics were a bit much for a toilet. But then again, this had once been one of the king’s chambers before the old castle was turned into the lower magic academy a hundred years ago. He pulled off his dusty white student skullcap and ran his fingers nervously through his short brown curly hair, then stepped fully into the room. He walked over to one of the stone holes against the wall and had just started to take care of his business, when the wall in front of him spoke, “Not much of a mystery…”
Vern jumped back, making a bit of a mess, and whirled around while yanking his tunic closed. “Where are you? What did you say? What do you want?”
“Sorry,” the voice whispered from the walls, “I wasn’t sure you would hear me. So few can nowadays. So many questions, but all I have left are answers.”
Vern noticed the wall glimmer near the window opening, so he directed his voice there, “If you have answers, then tell me what’s going on here?”
“Better yet,” the wall glimmered, “I will show you.”
The walls shimmered away in a mist, then reappeared with the chamber full of resplendent royal courtiers. The king was gesturing wildly, gems flinging loose from his elaborate robes like a peacock in molting season. The members of the court looked solid, but when Vern looked down at himself, he was translucent. Then slowly he could hear their shouts begin echoing in the chamber.
“The peasants are revolting again!” cried the king.
“I’ll say,” giggled a duke, decked out in an elaborate red uniform trimmed in gold leaf, “They smell like last night’s opium vomit.”
“This is serious,” the king insisted, “They are storming the inner gate and the guards who have not joined them are being overwhelmed.”
“What could they possibly want this time?” asked the kings deputy adviser to the upper hall assistant to the custodian of the lower hall lavatory keys, nervously adjusting his rose-colored spectacles and rubbing his rotund belly. “Just yesterday I held out a basket of bread from my late midmorning tea from the balcony over the screaming masses and let some trickle down. I personally saw a chunk of sourdough hit one squalling brat right in the mouth. What more could they possibly want? Trickle down bread works! They are still revolting!”
“He said revolting,” giggled the red uniformed duke.
“Perhaps now they want cake,” suggested the queen, dressed in a white gown with so many veils one could not determine exactly where the voice was coming from, or even if she was there at all. Not that the king bothered anymore, what with his 99 mistresses. With one more waiting in the wings.
The king wrung his bejeweled hands. “Why won’t they return to their hovels and leave us to our parties and banquets and parties. When I wished myself into this position that’s all I wanted, not to govern those disgusting creatures. That’s the job of my assistants!” said the king, waving toward his royal courtiers, who looked at each other in bewilderment.
“Who’s job was it to govern today?” the king scowled at them. “Never mind, I know how to fix this. GENIE!”
With a rumble of thunder and a flash of lightening, a pale boy dressed in a simple brown tunic appeared. “Yes, you have one more wish left, after squandering the first two on becoming king and then 99 mistresses.”
The king waved his finger at the genie, “Don’t take that tone with me. I could never have become the king via normal means, and 100 mistresses seemed excessive.”
“Well,” the genie frowned, “Be careful what you wish for and be specific and be –”
“I already know all the standard disclaimers,” the king exclaimed, pointing at the screaming crowds breaching the last inner gate, “Just fix their problem so they will go away!”
The genie smiled, and with a wave of his hand, the king and all his royal courtiers throughout the castle turned to stone. He turned and faded into the wall, to await someone more worthy of his attention.
The walls shimmered away in a mist, then reappeared with the chamber again full of intricate statues in odd poses, and the much more useful toilets. A spot on the wall gleamed, “And there is your answer to the mystery of this chamber.”
“Now I understand,” nodded Vern, “This king’s chamber was converted to a toilet because during the last king’s reign, this is where all the shitty decrees came from.”
The wall twinkled with laughter.
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