January 2, 2010

The flames of gold inserted themselves into sconces lining the walls of the throne room. The fatted calf entered, walked to the heavy oak table, and banged a broken scabbard thrice against his own snout.

“I call this meeting to order,” proclaimed the fatted calf, his fetid breath damaging the environment.

“Pepperoni,” said the flame of gold in sconce 1.

“And sausage,” softly added the flame of gold dancing above sconce 2.

“FEATHERS AND GRITS!” roared the unbalanced flame of gold wobbling and sputtering insanely over sconce 3.

“Hush now,” said the fatted calf while punching in numbers on his cell phone. “… Yes, I’d like to order 4 large pizzas, 2 pepperoni, 2 sausage, and none feathers and grits ……… Fatted Calf … My number is up, and I’ll canter down to get them myself.”

“Don’t forget the little packets of parmesan,” called the sconce 1 flame of gold to the rapidly departing fatted calf.

“AND BRING ME A PARTY HAT!” raged the hopelessly mad flame of gold flickering wildly above sconce 3.

The flame of gold above sconce 2 burned modestly content. She was really looking forward to her sausage pizza treat.

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