affame_le_geant_saumboo's_theatre fyn gula ever since the murder of potentilla ballo'grass and the disappearance of the fugitive cat, meeterskeeter, saumboo, the sudanese refugee turned personal assistant to king mal and queen mauvis, in an exhaustive effort to disuade further potential problems took to waking the royal couple himself. since the mandated declaration of a personal alarm involved rousing by song and saumboo's singing ability was limited to john mayer and badly drawn boy covers, (a direct oppositon to the king's penchant for 196o's american musicals,) he both opted for and convinced the king that theatrical readings were the ticket, as he often entertained the khartoum elites in his youth with stirring shakespearean soliloquies, sprightly readings from whitman's leaves of grass, or even an excerpt from an updike novel. "they can be just as effective as any judy andrews song," saumboo told the king, but he realized they would never create the positive flair that meeterskeeter's louis armstrong's ditties and more so, potentilla's bjork song once induced. however, he didn't want to go back there and wake the dead. that was a tarnished piece of history in the kingdom of broken glass and tender was the memory for everyone. mrs. ball'ograss was amazingly strong during the funeral, but the wrong word at the wrong time said without sensitivity upset the delicate balance. and no one wanted to bother king mal and push him of his teeter-totter. saumboo was right about his ability to do theater. it did work. and just as well as any showtune. this very morning in fact, a stirring rant from joyce's ulysses made king mal sit bolt upright out of a deep sleep and a poignant dream about his wayward daughter synoin. frantically, he searched for his tungsten sword with the turquoise hilt underneath the futon. "it's ok," saumboo said. "i'm just waking you up." "fuck!" king mal said, falling back on his velvet pillows with a heavy, exasperated breath. "next time try some shel silverstein. you scared the bejeezus out of me." "alright, i'm sorry, your highness. i'll tone it down," saumboo said, snickering. he turned away to the kitchen to start the coffee and like always glimpsed out of the large bedroom window that overlooked the castle orchard. he stopped dead in his tracks. "oh my god!" saumboo shouted. his hands instinctively raised to cover his mouth in a spontaneous act of incredulity. "king mal...oh my god...you have to...oh my god...you must see this!" 020330 what's it to you? who go blather from