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Written by: Francoise
On a quiet autumn evening, Micky was going through his mail and various papers he usually didn't have time to check. The doorbell rang. Micky sighed, "Now what? Can never have a moment of peace."
He answered and saw two men he never had seen before. They bowed in front of him and said, with deferentail tone of voice, "We are sorry to distrub you, Your Majesty."
"My...what??"
"Your Majesty."
Micky burst out laughing. "All right! Good try, men. Now, where's the camera?"
"The...camera, Sire?"
"Come on, you don't expect me to fall in your trap? If you want to catch Micky Dolenz, you'll have to find a more subtle joke than that."
"Sire, I'm afraid there is a little misunderstanding. Could we come into your house and try to explain things to you?"
"If that doesn't bother you, I prefer to stay in the hall. After all, I've never seen you before."
"That is quite understandable, Your Majesty. You are very careful and that is a very good quality for a king, Sire."
"AND STOP CALLING ME MAJESTY AND SIRE! If I'm a king, Queen Elizabeth is the Spice Girls' manager."
"Well, Your...Sorry, Mr. Dolenz. We are from a little country called the Sweetheart Island. It is a very small land which is coveted by other countries because of its gold mines. We previously had a kind, but he is dead and has left no descendant. We studied his genealogical tree and found that his mother's great-grandfather was married to your great-grand aunt's cousin. Here, we have all the papers to prove it." He handed a lot of papers to Micky; birth and marriage certificates, etc. Everything seemed authentic.
"Oh, pardon me, sire. I was forgetting something, no matter if you accept your charge or not, this belongs to your family." He gave Micky a small case.
When Micky opened it, he saw a beautiful golden heart, with a tiny golden crown on it.
"Those are the Royal Arms of our country, Sir."
"I've seen that jewel before."
"The great, great-grandfather of the late king and your great-grant aunt's cousin each had one. When they both were dead, one jewel stayed at the Royal Palace and the other one sent to your great-grand aunt's daughter."
Micky remembered his great-aunt wearing this jewel at a family reunion. "So, I am really the king!? Although that doesn't mean that Queen Elizabeth is the Spice Girls' manager."
"Yes, Sire, you are the king. And we beg you to accept your charge. You are our only hope."
"Wait a minute! I don't know anything about being a king. I'm an artist."
"We will help you, Sire. And you are a very talented and intelligent man. You will learn fast."
"Don't try to wheedle me. This country...what's its name again?"
"The Sweetheart Island, Sire."
"Why is it called Sweetheart?"
"Well, it has the reputation of being the land of the most beautiful women in the world."
"WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? LET'S GO!"
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After a short trip in the Royal Jet, they arrived at the Sweetheart Palace. As far as he could have seen, Micky stated that the dignitaries that had been sent to him had not lied: the women were beautiful. From the stewardess on the plane, to the secretaries, maid and other girls working at the Palace, every female was very pretty.
But he discovered very quickly that the life of a king was not an easy one, and that he would soon long for a little freedom.
First, at 5:00 a.m., somebody woke him up. "Do you know what time it is? Please let me sleep."
"I am sorry, Your Majesty, but all our kings have always been up with the sun. Would you please get ready, Sire, the Master of the Protocol is waiting for you..."
"Master of the Protocol?"
Yes, it is His Excellency X. Cessive.
Micky mumbled to himself, "With a name like that... I'm anxious to see the man."
He was not disappointed. His Excellency, stiff as a board, did not seem to even know the meaning of the word "smile". When he saw his new king, he bowed deeply, then stood up without any expression on his face, until Micky invited him to sit down.
"Your Majesty, I am here to read to you the schedule of your day: 5:00 a.m. The awakening of Your Majesty."
"Thanks! I hadn't noticed."
The Master of the Protocol seemed annoyed to be interrupted, but what could he say to the king? Micky had a mischievous thought: "I think I can have fun with that Master of the Robot... Robocop... Protocol, yes, that's it!"
"5:01 a.m. The dressing of Your Majesty."
"Yes, because usually, I sleep naked."
The Master of the Protocol looked shocked. "Of course," thought Micky "his pajamas must look like a snowsuit."
"5:15 a.m. The breakfast of Your Majesty."
"Doesn't your schedule give my Majesty some time to go to the Royal comfort room?"
The austere Excellency was feeling very uneasy. He stammered, "Please, Sire... We can make some amendments to the Royal schedule, but I must finish reading it, first."
Micky started laughing, then had pity for the poor man. "I'll stop teasing him; after all, he's only doing his job." But listening to him, the new king suddenly realized what HIS job would be. And that was a shock! "I thought I was busy before, but this is ridiculous. Every minute of my time is planned."
A lot of obligations were scheduled for him: he had to appear at official dinners, attend conferences and lectures of all kinds, sign official papers he did not understand, etc. All of a sudden, in front of his eyes, appeared a lot of people reading to him what he had to do, papers were presented to him, and he wished to escape to freedom, but couldn't.
"I WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK! I DON'T WANNA BE A KING!"
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Suddenly, he was sitting in front of his desk, in his apartment in Los Angeles. He wiped his eyes. He realized that being very tired, he had been sleeping a little bit. But why did he have such a strange dream? He had his answer when he saw a letter that was just under his eyes and that he must have begun to read before dozing off: it was a letter from a fan and it was beginning with these words: "Dear Micky, You are my King and my Sweetheart..."
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