THE RIGHT

The Right doesn't draw any comparisons to anything. It is one of those weird pieces where I sat down and just kept writing until I was through. I wanted to challenge the idea of a person judging another person and where morals apply in society. Then it became a tedious subject and I just said screw. You may notice that flippancy towards the end...

information:
copyright: 2000 C.E.
wordcount: 778
story # 8

How much longer must I endure these insufferable mumblings of wretched peasants? The King asked o’ ‘imself whilst perched upon ‘is throne. ‘E looked down upon the miserable wretch beggin’ fer ‘is merchy. The poor soul ‘ad been up tae no good an’ now was brought afore the King tae be tried an’ judged fer ‘is meanderin’s untold.

“Adulterous swine! Thou art accused o’ betrayal tae the sacred precinct o’ marriage! And now ye grovel fer mercy at mine feet!? Away with this cur!”

An at that, the poor bastard was taken tae the pits tae be thrown tae the lions ‘e was. An, whilst I am thinking o’ it, I must confess that I won’ be relation’ this li’l recall in ol’ Brit I won’. I’s be recallin’ it in proper English-American, I will. Now, where was I? Oh yeah! The silly sod ‘ad been tossed tae the lions an’ it was time fer the next judgin’. Now, the King ‘ad ‘ad a long day o’ judgin’ an’ tossin’ folks intae the lions’ den, an’ was down right groggy after such kingly tasks. An’ now, ‘ere was some lass accused o’ the same thing as the last soul. Only this one were proud o’ ‘er l’il philanderin’s wit’ some local yolk an ‘er ‘usband weren’t tae pleased wit’ ‘er. An’ I am ‘opin’ I used that big word correctly! Anyways, she was brought afore the King fer ‘er, heh, trial.

“Miserable wretch! Thou art accused o’ adultery! In this kingdom, none are wont outside their proper spouses! What right ‘ave ye tae cause such strife!?”
“What right ‘ave I!? What right ‘ave ye!?”

Now, the King were taken aback by the lass’ bold words an’ was might curious ‘e was. Yet, she just continued tae stare at ‘im defiantly, darin’ ‘im tae say somethin’ an’ anything at all. ‘E took a quick glance at ‘is viceroy ‘om only shrugged.

“What right ‘ave I? I ‘ave committed no adultery!”
“Nae, ye bloody sod!! Tae be judgin’ me! As if ye are free from sin! I know ye an yer deeds! Ye sit up on yet throne actin’ all high an’ mighty, passin’ judgment on yer peasant stock likes ye are all troubled an’ worn out!”

An’ at that, she spits on the floor afore the King whilst ‘e stares at ‘er wide eyed from unnerneat’ ‘is ‘elmet. ‘E ain’ never ‘ad anyone speak tae ‘im in such a fashion afore. So, out o’ perplexion, ‘e orders the lass thrown intae a cell ‘til ‘e feels like dealin’ wit’ ‘er. Then ‘e cancels all everyone else ‘e ‘as tae judge that day an’ goes tae ‘is quarters in deep and considerin’ thought.

What right ‘ave I? Indeed. The King spends the night awake an’ walks the halls o’ the castle ‘opin’ tae put some rationale tae what right ‘e ‘as tae judge anyone. ‘Is Viceroy keeps ‘im company ‘as he collects ‘is thoughts on the matter.

“Indeed. I ‘ave no right tae judge. I am but a man.”
“Sire, thou art King! An’ this wretch ‘as broken one o’ the commandments! Ye ‘ave every right.”
“Nae. The wretch is correct. I ‘ave no right tae judge.”
“Eh?”
“No man ‘as the right tae judge another man fer ‘e ‘as ‘is own actions tae be considered as well. I will surin’ meet mine maker an’ be ‘eld accountable fer mine sins.”

At that, the Viceroy can not respond an’ so it is that the wretch is brought afore the King the next morn’. An’, jus’ as afore, she stares defiantly in the King’s face. ‘E looks ‘er dead on and most assuredly she’d a been afraid if’n ‘is ‘elmet were off then. ‘E speaks slowly enough fer ‘er tae unnerstan’ ‘im. Y’know, so’s there weren’t no confusion.

“Ye assessment on the eve afore was correct. Fer me, I ‘ave no place tae be judgin’ ye. If’n ye wish tae toss aside a decent marriage fer some miserable cur off the streets, so be it.”

Brief mummerin’s resonants throughout the massive court ‘all as no one can believe what the King ‘ad jus’ said. An’ the woman smiles an’ beams wit’ acceptance o’ what she perceives tae be a kingly apology.

“‘Owever. Being as how ye thrive about mine house, I figures, the ‘ell wit’ ye. Let God be thine judge. Toss ‘er tae the lions!!”

The woman’s eyes go wide in terror as she finds ‘erself being drug tae ‘er fate. An’ that’s the end o’ me tale. Get from it what ye wish, but I tell ye, some peoples jus’ don’ know when theys got it good.

The End.

Email: kaipur@aol.com