Part 4 Life Goes On

The wedding was the social event of the year. The bride wore a Jean Paul Gautier yellow silk shantung long sleeved dress with pink pigskin ankle boots and matching handbag. The groom wore an Armani tuxedo, in sky blue, with matching top hat. As they made their way out of the church, the comments were flying swift and sure: "My, don't they look STUNNING!" "What a BEAUTIFUL couple!" "OUR KINGDOM IS SAVED!"

SOON the children were born, two lovely girls. They were growing up into nice, young ladies.
But this story isn't really about THEM.

Things were changing in the kingdom; 50 Cent got bumped out by Tim Geithner as the new Secretary of the Treasury; there were other appointees who seemed not to fit their roles, but the people of Ozbama accepted these appointments with the kind of resignation that only comes from years of frustration trying to buck the system. Once upon a time they would have been accused of dumb insolence, but no longer----their king/wizard/president was proving himself to be a Great Leader, even though most of the time he hid behind a curtain and projected his image onto a screen, in order to frighten his subjects into submission. He was spending less time on the balcony and more time in his chambers, making new proclamations that didn't mean anything, and enjoying more and more sweet potato pie. His increasing girth was the cause of much concern with his cabinet.

Therefore, a new member of the team was recruited: The Royal Waist-Watcher, in the form of Jack la Lanne.

"C'mon, Your Majesty! Just look at me. I'm 140 years old and look at me! Slim and trim like I was in my 20's. You CAN DO IT! Remember your battle cry when you wanted to be elected Wizard for Life? Then use it to lose it, baby! YOU CAN DO IT!! We've got to cut out all those sweet potato pies you've been devouring in your private chambers, and replace them with salads."

"You've GOT to be joking, la Lanne! I LOVE sweet potato pie, can't live without it!" cried the Wizard.

"Sorry, Oz, but the way back to a slim, trim body is NO sweets, LOTS of exercise every day. We'll start our regime tomorrow, so be ready at 8:00 in the morning for an hour of rigorous exercise. First we'll do one hundred push-ups followed by two hundred jumping jacks; then three hundred sit-ups. You'll be in shape in no time. Bye!!" And with a wave of his hand, The Waist-Watcher left, backing out of the door. The Wizard just stood there, staring at the door. He was so deflated at this news. Looking at himself in a full-length mirror, he agreed that he had put on quite a bit of weight and knew that Theadora was not happy with this extra-added fat. So in order to please her, he decided then and there to make another royal decree: No sweet potato pies would be allowed in the kingdom as long as he was the Wizard.

The next day the Waist-Watcher showed up as scheduled; the Wizard when through the motions of each exercise but nearly collapsed with exhaustion. Afterward he had a shower, sauna and massage, then wrote out his decree against sweet potato pies. He then informed his cabinet that he would make this announcement at 12:00 on the balcony, and they in turn informed the kingdom that they were to be outside the Palace at noon. He donned his royal robes and proceeded to the appointed place.

"Good people of the Kingdom of Ozbama, I hereby give you Royal Decree No. 19, 760. From now on, there shall be no more sweet potato pies allowed in the kingdom. That means the growing of sweet potatoes shall be forbidden, any by-products of this shall not be made, no bakeries shall produce pies or other sweets from sweet potatoes. All sweet potatoes that are now in the ground shall be pulled up and tossed into the Royal Dumping Grounds and burned immediately. Anyone caught with a sweet pototo in his or her possession, shall be incarcerated by the fullest extent of the law of Ozbama. And that means thrown into the Royal Prison. I hope I have made myself clear. Thank you, good people, thank you." And with that, the Wizard swept back into his room off the balcony and closed the French doors.

The crowds dispersed, mumbling to themselves and each other. This was not the type of royal decree that they wished to hear. Many people made their living by growing sweet potatoes and were thrown into a panic. What were they to do? It was their livlihood being stripped away from them, their very reason for existence. The alternatives were depressing: either grow another crop or die from hunger. The former was anethema, the latter unthinkable. So . . . it was then that a mutinous gathering of once-loyal subjects began their plot to overthrow the Wizard and his government.

In that crowd of onlookers, the Sheriff of Nottingham stood, disguised as a Benedictine Monk. Knowing which side of his bread was buttered, but also eager to be a hero to the people, he walked away to contemplate his next move . . . .