What with tax day coming along soon and all, I thought I might share this little story that I found. Well written and funny. Kind of a D&D outlook to this yearly ritual.<br /><br />__________________________________________________________________<br /><br />Grigory sat on a throne perched atop a huge marble skull. His throne-<br />room, the peasants maintained, stretched so far that the curvature of<br />the earth made seeing from one end to the other impossible. Whilst this was untrue, most of the rumors about Castle Skull,<br />especially the darker ones, were correct. That the castle itself had<br />been built in the likeness of a skull, was immediately evident. And Grigory<br />certainly couldn't deny that he drank from the skulls of his enemies.<br /><br />"Have you ever tried drinking out of a skull, Warburt?" Grigory asked.<br /><br />Warburt shifted nervously under the king's scrutiny. He wrapped his<br />bone-white robes around him, hugging hand to elbow. "No sire." The<br />long grey wisp of his beard waggled as he shook his head.<br /><br />"I can tell. Because if you did, Warburt," Grigory continued with<br />relentless dedication, "because if you did, you wouldn't be wearing<br />those nice white robes of yours. Oh no! You'd be a wine-spotted hyena<br />like me."<br /><br />Grigory rose from the throne, skull goblet in one hand, the other<br />holding his embroidered tunic out for inspection. "Couldn't they at<br />least block up the eye holes? Look at me!"<br /><br />At this point Grigory slipped on a wine spill, and his feet went from<br />under him on the smooth surface of the giant marble skull. He fell<br />heavily on his rear, spraying wine from his goblet, and slithered to<br />the dais.<br /><br />Warburt studied the curled ends of his court slippers and waited for<br />the king to rise.<br /><br />"Your royal father was a great advocate of skull-drinking, sire. To<br />be sure it is a skill that takes some effort to acquire, but the<br />rewards . . ."<br /><br />"The rewards," said Grigory, keeping his voice as even as he<br />could, "are irrelevant! No more skull cups. No more skull-helmed<br />royal guard, no more skull mirrors, no more skull letterheads . . ."<br /><br />"But, sire!" Warburt's narrow face folded in concern.<br /><br />"No more buts! There's a new king on the throne in case you haven't<br />noticed. And I think you'll find that the reign of Grigory the sixty-<br />eighth is going to be somewhat different from that of Grigory the<br />sixty-ninth. I've half a mind to cancel this whole counting-down<br />business for a start . . ."<br /><br />Warburt looked up sharply at that. Grigory knew the old man to be a<br />great advocate of the countdown. Warburt's ancestors had served every<br />king since Grigory the ninety-sixth. The idea of any delay in the<br />arrival of Grigory the First clearly did not sit well with him.<br /><br />"You had some thoughts on the matter of skulls, sire?" Warburt said.<br /><br />"I did." Grigory began to clamber back up to his throne. "I'm done with<br />all that. It's too clichéd. There's more to being evil than skull<br />motifs and catapulting peasants off the walls."<br /><br />"There is?" Warburt pursed his prune-wrinkled lips.<br /><br />"Evil is in the small things, Warburt. Taxes for example."<br /><br />"But we tax the peasants of all they have, sire." A note of pride<br />colored Warburt's reply. "Your royal father was very strict on that<br />point. `Tax `em 'til the pips squeak,' he said."<br /><br />"Yes, yes," Grigory waved the objection aside, "It's all very well<br />to lay about with a lash and take the last turnip, but where's the<br />finesse in that? Where's the malice?" He reached behind him and drew<br />out a scroll, tied with a black ribbon. "Take a look!"<br /><br />Warburt took the proffered document and unrolled it. He<br />squinted, "The script is very small, sire."<br /><br />Grigory allowed a small smile to steal across his face.<br /><br />Warburt peered. He raised a brow. "I have to list deductibles on form<br />1040z, and provide individually documented verification? Personal<br />living expenses must be calculated? See note 17c for goat<br />adjustments!"<br /><br />Grigory laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back contentedly.<br /><br />Warburt looked up, the slow dawn of comprehension across his withered<br />face, "Oh Majesty! This _is_ evil!"<br /><br />The peal of distant trumpets interrupted further discussion. They<br />announced the arrival of messengers at the throne-room doors. Grigory<br />adjusted his iron crown. "The messenger may approach the throne," he<br />called. He nodded to Warburt. "When the news messengers arrive I want<br />to hear them. This is my kingdom and I want to know what's going on<br />in it."<br /><br />The huge bronze doors swung open. The first messenger, a lanky fellow<br />in the green of the Running Guild, hastened toward the throne. His<br />assistant, a young lad with a mop of red hair, jogged along behind.<br /><br />"News from Methpotj!" boomed Gorlas, the immensely fat Warder of the<br />Door.<br /><br />"Methpotj?" Grigory glanced at Warburt and spread his hands.<br /><br />"An outer province, sire. Land conquered from the Narkan's by Grigory<br />the ninetieth." Warburt supplied the information in a low hiss.<br /><br />The prime messenger presented himself before the throne and mounted a raised circle about the size of a millstone.<br /><br />"What news from Methpotj?" Grigory asked. He could feel a trickle of<br />wine working its way down his neck.<br /><br />"Sire, I bring news of an earthquake. A brass cow is terrorising the<br />peasants of Kings Valley, and a great crack has appeared in the<br />pyramid of Tutan."<br /><br />"What's that!" Grigory let his anger rumble in his voice. *If the<br />Lordlings think to mock me with tales of monstrous cows . . .*<br /><br />"The pyramid is a great stone construction in the shape of a<br />tetrahedron, the Narkans-" The messenger's misguided explanation cut<br />short when he exploded. The alchemist powder packed into the indentations<br />atop the raised circle gave surprisingly little heat or sound when<br />it ignited but proved pleasingly effective. Large chunks of the<br />messenger flew in a wide arc, mostly away from the throne. Warburt<br />however stood well within the splatter radius.<br /><br />Grigory clasped his hands. "That's one of my father's toys that<br />stays!" He repositioned his finger above the detonation button in the<br />throne's armrest. By tradition only the bringers of bad news were<br />liable to sudden explosion, but Grigory felt that stupid messengers<br />were fair game too.<br /><br />Warburt motioned the assistant up on to the circle. Grigory favored<br />the old man with a smile. "I see you're as spotted as I am now,<br />Chancellor." He turned his attention to the trembling youth before<br />him. "As you will have gathered, I know what a pyramid is. Now tell<br />me about this cow . . ."<br />
