Day 1 of the Literary Onslaught: Excerpt for upcoming story

It was….






The Legendary event simply known as ‘The Gala’ was a disaster.

“It was”, Prince Julius reflected as he dragged himself to bed, “Truly, the worst night ever.”

Collapsing face first into the pillows, his body shook with a resounding sigh.

At least it was over.


“You’ll be seeing Rainbows!


England Girls, we’re pretty magical!

Boots on our feet, bikinis on top!”

One hand silenced the infernal electronic device transmitting its unbearable pop-culture sugar-sweet ear pollution. Sapphire Shores. He hated Sapphire Shores. What was the radio even doing on that station again?

Julius found himself on his back, eyes bleary but open, staring up at the delicately tiled ceiling. The damnable machine had done its job and woken him up, at least. Pulling his regal and ‘royal’ self upright, he gently massaged a palm into his forehead, willing himself to deal with the post-Gala fiasco he had abandoned last night. The event was supposed to be in his Aunt Camelia’s honor. It was Camelia’s Triumph, celebrating the glorious founding of Camelot, however it had been overrun by a horde of crazed critters.

Rolling out of bed, he paused only to glance outside at the lush palace gardens and then to ring a bell to summon the Palace grooming staff for his morning routine. It most certainly would not do to arrive at breakfast in a disheveled state. An antechamber served this purpose well, and a pair of women who appeared to be of Latin descent quickly arrived to groom away the night’s frustrations and prepare him for the supposedly casual meeting he had with his Aunts. Julius closed his eyes, not needing to see the servants to gauge their work. They had been doing this for years, after all, just as he had: the same thing, day after day.

Similarly, he resisted the impulse to doze off.

Nope: his mind turned to the events of the previous evening. Specifically to the childish woman who had so showered him with low class cake, and then to the cascade of destruction that had turned the noble Ménagerie into a house of cards. Compared to the structural and artistic destruction, the stampede of wild animals that followed was really almost an afterthought: an insulting addendum to the devastation. The Royal Guards had mysteriously disappeared soon after, leaving dazed and confused noblemen and guests of honor to stagger around, lost and confused, unable to process the fact that their evening had been so thoroughly ransacked. A tribe of savage beats could as well have walked through, plucking tapestries from the walls and jewels from the necks of aristocrats, and not a single person would have batted an eye.

Something would have to be done to mitigate the aftermath. Julius mentally prepared to meet with the Royal Bouteiller, as soon after breakfast as possible. The image of the Gala needed to be repaired – his precious image as well, of course – which meant that they needed a patsy. Yes. A public face to blame the disaster on. The social circles of Camelot would do the rest, if given only a rumor or two.

Dismissing the two groomers with a haughty wave of his hand, Prince Julius glanced for a moment at the nearby full-body mirror. He looked fine. None the worse for wear, despite last night. The bump on the back of his head had even disappeared. How fortuitous!

Now, for his attire.

Opening the walk-in dressing closet, he saw his shortened dinner jacket and blue bow tie, hanging waiting for him, pressed and prepared. It had been left in a place of honor, with the expectation that he would come for it later tonight. The Prince’s expression darkened immediately. What was that doing there? Granted, he had many dinner jackets, but he had ordered this one from Harry specifically for the Gala.

Last night’s Gala.

“Idiots,” he grumbled, pushing aside the formal wear for a pale silk collar. “I am surrounded by children and idiots.”


The living quarters of the Palace opened up to him, but the Guard only became noticeable as he approached the pantry and dining hall. Truth be told, the Prince was in little mood to see his beloved aunt, not after her pointed disappearance last night had sounded the death knell for what should have been the most magnificent night of the year. He had personally invested much in the entire affair, bringing together select patrons of the arts and arcane who had sought him out as their patron. Now those guests were humiliated and no doubt silently enraged at the farce the night had become.

Lost in his thoughts, paying little heed to his surroundings, Julius sat before the table hosted by his exalted Princess-aunt. In fact, both of his great aunts were in attendance, a somewhat rare occurrence. Twice in as many days. Julius didn’t remember the last time that had happened, but he didn’t let it distract him from his sullen displeasure. It was an impotent displeasure as well, for Camelia damn well did as she pleased, and there was little anybody could or would say or do about it.

The Princess of the Sun sat at the head of the table, cheerfully and contentedly munching on a low class southern breakfast that consisted of grits, eggs, and bacon. Again. His other aunt Luna had finished eating what was actually and effectively her dinner, and remained quietly lost in introspection. She often partook of a glass of wine before going to sleep for the day, a rather strange custom though Julius recognized the vintage of the bottle kept cool by her place on the table (the same as yesterday). A true creature of the night, that one. Not that it was any business of his what she did with herself.

Julius placed an order for tea, with milk and ginger, and freshly imported salmon.



    • Kerry
    • April 9th, 2012

    Interesting! Different from other stuff I’ve read of yours!


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The life of a middle school language arts teacher. Not to be taken to seriously. Kapeesh?




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