affame_le_geant_four_apple_trees fyn gula being a king is very cool. everything is done for you, unless you decide you want to do it yourself. but just for fun, not because you have to do it or anything. that's the way it was with king mal, you know. there was only one thing he wanted to do for himself and that was care for the four apple trees in the royal orchard. saumboo was responsible for all the other normal, necessary business affairs, whittling down the work until all it required was king mal's signet ring pressed in a dollop of red wax. and so, he was often in the orchard, passionately caring for his beloved trees seasonaly. there he'd be in spring fertilizing with the organic, well-rotted goat manure he stored up over the winter. late frosts always scared him. he'd either spray it off with water before the sun came up or cover the tender blossoms with burlap if he was partying hard and didn't want to get up early. in summer, he watched for damaging insects with a magnifying glass and when he found them he'd be so fucking pissed. the ones he could pick up with his fingers he would and he'd squish them with malice. others like aphids or scale he would have to spray, and the product was his own concoction that he created in the royal lab, a pH wonder that drowned the bastards and actually was beneficial to the trees. The Celebration of the Blossom was an annual event at Broken Glass, a sulgeneris social where last year's apple cider, spiked with a variety of colorful spirits flowed like the swollen stream that danced through the orchard. summer was quiet for the king. he simply sat at the wooden table under the green canopy and listened to live bands that he hired to play for him. although there was more fertilizing to help the apples enlarge and intricate pruning techniques to stimulate production. and then of course, fall harvest. he picked every apple himself, moving the handmade ladder from tree to tree while a chamber orchestra was set up beneath him, playing the score from "ciderhouse rules." later, the apples were, one by one, washed and polished. some were chosen for eating as is, others for cooking, and the less than perfect for cider. every week-end until the leaves dropped there were parties, each one highlighted by a different apple selection and particular dish. could be pie, cobbler, crisp, cake, muffins, cookies. it was quite the hip thing to do. bands came. someone said the chemical brothers' debut of "come with us" was performed at a pippin pie party. i wish i would have known about that one. during winter was the extensive pruning of the branches and king mal was usually accompanied by a lone violinist playing requiems he had composed himself. this was difficult and sad work, you see. cutting limbs from trees is like removing arms and legs from a person, well not really. the trees actually receive vast benefits from it. when they were all done, another grand affair was served up at the castle, perhaps the finest of all. black tie and gown. why mention all of this? well, what saumboo had seen out of the royal bedroom window on his way to make the king's coffee was that one of the four trees... was gone. completely. roots and all. simply yanked out of the ground as if God himself was pulling an unwanted weed. all that was left was the massive hole, a scar in the body of the earth. when king mal rushed over to witness the devastation, he just fucking fainted, dropping over like a marionette when the puppetmaster lets go of the strings. 020331 ... fyngula hmm. seems so long ago that we heard about king mal. we will, someday, for you see it is "affame le geant" that will come to squish his kingdom. 021114 what's it to you? who go blather from