Project Backwards; Chapter Twelve

A Chapter by Michael Stevens

Chapter Twelve:

Where was he? He could hear low-toned talking coming from somewhere down the hall. He wanted to walk down and find out who was talking. Only one problem with that; he appeared to be in a jail of some sort. He heard yelling from the cells down the way.

“Eh, guvner, give us a blow, eh?!”, and, “I say, is that a shilling I dropped? Might I impose on you to bend over and pick it up? Eh, ha, ha!” were just two of the less graphic comments shouted down the row. He looked at his bleak surrounding. Moisture leaked from the ceiling, some unidentifiable brown goo was smeared on the walls, and the smell? Forget about it! Just then what appeared to be the jailer walked by, jangling keys announcing his arrival, and he stopped in front of Steve’s cell.

“On your feet, Yankee; the King wants to see you!” The other prisoners saw and heard this, and grew quiet. Then one said,

“Hey, jailer, how about letting me go, eh?”

Suddenly, all the prisoners wanted the same thing. The jailer snarled, “How about you all shut yer pie holes, eh?”

Bitter remarks about the jailers’ mother’s parentage shot from the closed bars of every cell.

“Shut up, you prisoner dogs, or you’ll find yourselves in the stocks!” he cleverly shot back, and unlocked Steve’s cell door. “Follow me,” he said, to which several rude comments, including,

“What was that? Swallow me? Eh, ha, ha!”, followed from the prisoners.

Yankee? I hate the Yankees! was Steve’s first thought, as he followed the jailer out the door of the prison, and saw that it was located on the grounds of a palace of some sort. “Say, where is this place?” he asked the jailer.

“If you’re think that’s funny, or you’re is trying to pull me leg, you better jus’ shut your pie hole! If you’re not pulling anything, what are you, stupid or something? This here is Buckingham Palace!”

Buckingham Palace? When? was the question that immediately sprang to mind. “Look, I don’t know why I’m imprisoned; maybe you could give me some kind of clue?”

“You’re American, aint ya? Like there’d be ‘nother reason!”

Steve had no response to that comment. “What’s the name of the king who wants to see me?”

“Oh, come on; now I know King George is going to be displeased and punish you, not just for being American, which you can’t help I suppose, but fer trying to yank his chain!”

King George; anti-American? Must be during the Revolutionary War.

He followed the jailer into Buckingham Palace, and was left in a room with paintings of a fox hunt. Now I know how the fox feels! He was the fox, being hunted down by an overwhelming number of the king’s minions.

He’d been sitting in the silent room for what seemed like hours, when the door was opened, and a servant, or someone, announced, “Without further ado, I give you, King George of Great Britain!”

“What are you, the mc of royalty?” said a lantern-jawed, semi-handsome man with a royal bearing who swept grandly into the room, followed by many servants.

He said, “Before we begin, this wig in driving me crazy!” and he took it off to reveal a shock of flaming red hair. Steve thought semi-handsome because the man was a blimp!

“Now, where was I? Oh yes; Can you please tell me why the American government is stalking me? I don’t mean her armed forces, I mean the shadowy figures who watch me sleep?”

Steve knew that eventually, King George went a quite mad, but thought to himself he’s already arrived in Crazytown! “Ah, sir, I have no knowledge of that.”

“Well, that’s what you’d expect to hear from a lying American Dog!”

Steve replied, without thinking, “One out of three isn’t too bad; I am American!”

King George shook his flaming red hair, fixed Steve with a cold stare, and replied, “How dare you mock me!

I’m not mocking you, this would be mocking you; have another ale there, you bloated, crazy idiot; you’re mad as a loon! thought Steve, but he only replied, “No sir, I only meant that you’re mistaken.”

Suddenly, he felt a slap upside the head from behind. He whirled around to find one of the servants, who said, “The King is never wrong, about anything, and should be referred to as, “His Excellency, the King of All”!”

S**t! As much as I enjoy being treated like Yankee s**t (hey, that phase fit perfectly what he felt about the baseball team!), it’s time to get away, far, far away, from King Scatterbrain! “Get me out of here!” he shouted, followed by the usual darkness.

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