Novus Ordo Saeculorum

The Wizard was up one cloudy rainy morning, eating his Wheaties, when in marched the Sheriff of Nottingham.

"So sorry to bother Your Wizardry during his breakfast, but something has come up." Nottingham sat down before the Wizard allowed him.

"HEY! YOU can't sit down until I tell you that you can!" The Wizard was very angry.

"Oh, sorry, Your Highness, I forgot." Nottingham quickly stood up; the Wizard then told him that he could sit down.

"So, what is so important that you interrupt my breakfast, Notts?" asked the Wizard.

"Sire, the economy is in a bad state, and your wife, the Wizardess, is off shopping at Valentino in Beverly Hills" announced the Sheriff.

"So what? I told her she could have a little shopping expedition if she managed to save her allowance, and she obviously did. I'm proud of her---even though I know she had to break that piggy bank I got her for Christmas. Maybe she'll buy something that looks nice on her this time." The Wizard took a huge scoopful of cereal and munched away.

"No, Sire, you just don't understand. She has already spent over $1.2 million in one week. We can't afford this, especially with the recent fallout from that Vernie Makoff caper. And you've only been the Wizard for three months!" The Sheriff bit off another one of his nails.

"Vernie Makoff? That guy doesn't have anything to do with our economic situation! He was a private embezzler, nothing to do with the Kingdom's money. And besides---"

"Your Majesty just doesn't understand. Many of the people who's money he stole were supporting our economy. Now they have lost their entire life savings, can't go shopping anymore and keep our Kingdom out of the Great Recession! It's an unmitigated disaster, if you don't mind me saying so." Nottingham waited for a response from Ozbama. The Wizard slurped the last bit of milk from his cereal bowl, burped, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Listen, Nottingham, you get whoever is in charge of finances for the Kingdom and tell them to just crank out some more money. It's easy! Then one, two, three, we've got no recession. See? There's always a way out." Ozbama stood up, stretched, and then said:

"By the way, Nottingham, I'm going out tonight, so you're in charge of the Grey Palace until I get back, which should be around 4:00 a.m."

"May one ask where one is going, Your Highness?" asked the Sheriff.

"You may, but I'm not telling you! ha ha! Just a little jaunt in my new Maserroti. " The Wizard strode out of the Royal Kitchen, leaving the Sheriff shell-shocked. Didn't this leader understand that he couldn't buy such expensive play things while the rest of the country is lining up in soup kitchens? The Sheriff knew that he couldn't tell the Ministry of Finance to just "crank out" some more money---that wouldn't solve anything. The problem was with big investors, pocketing private citizens' hard-earned cash. A morality problem. The Sheriff was in a precarious position, not knowing which way to turn.

One thing was for certain: He had to contact the Wizardess in Beverly Hills, to order her to stop spending money immediately and return to the Grey Palace pronto. Of course she had to take their private jet, but no one expects the wife of the leader of the Kingdom to travel in a prop-plane. On the way out of the Royal Kitchen, the Sheriff noticed a piece of paper that had fallen out of the pocket of the Wizard's morning coat. On it was written: " Vernie Makoff-- midnight, The Rocket Cafe." Suddenly Notthingham felt sick. He folded the paper, stashed it in his pocket, and left the room in a hurry.