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THE KING

The snow has really started coming down.

Everywhere you look, it is covered in white.

Now the wind is moving furiously in the trees, and the trees are shouting:

“Welcome back, insanely scary Gork!

Your life will be epic,

the stuff of legend and lore!

You’ll bravely lead us to victory,

of this you can be sure!

After fighting many a pitched battle,

you will win the Great War!

Before you we bow,

because you are the King now!

Before you we bow,

because you are the King now!”

I snort firebolts out my nostrils.

And I think:

Shut up, you stupid trees.

I can’t even hear myself think.

So just shut the heck up already!

I don’t have time to dwell on this, though.

Because that freaking scream is still shooting through the night wind.