(no subject)

                “This is so amazing! My mind still reels with the implications! Hold still...your velvet sash is askew.”

                “And your tunic, your Majesty—I mean  Jack—is a bit too precisely laced on the side. Nobody cares about precision in fashion when you’re as poor as me…I mean, you…”

                “I share your confusion! This is a grand social experiment, my friend, and what we learn from it will surely HURK!”

                The Prince’s face froze as the pauper thrust a dagger between his ribs and directly into his heart.

                “My father used to tell me that one of life’s great ironies is how every man wants both to be royalty and to kill royalty. Look at me; I’ve gotten to do both.”

                The Prince fell to the ground, grabbing at the paupers boots, mouthing breathless words as he died.

                “Amazing. I believe I’m the only man who’s ever known what he’ll look like when he dies.”

                He allowed himself a smile before calling out for the palace guards…

Posted using TxtLJ

It is precision, not madness, that leads one to one's party.
b