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Gaudy
Nothing good could possibly result from the FairyLand Architectural Gazette calling the King's new tower "gaudy," but they had done just that and ...
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…the King had to admit they had a point. He cast his eyes around his bedroom. It was decorated lavishly in animal print and gold trim, sumptuous fabrics draped every object including the servants. As his eyes surveyed the room he realized that perhaps he’d been misled and that perhaps the competing golds, purples, magentas and various zebra, tiger, leopard and cheetah prints weren’t ‘invigorating’ as his decorator Bruno had suggested, but rather tiring instead. His eyes found no place soothing to rest, no solace amongst the satin, no clarity of thought in the jewels.
The King was suddenly conscious of the servants, waiting on bended knee and holding their breath for his reaction. The gold silk uniforms they wore rustled as they squirmed with impatience. The King dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The servants, overjoyed to have escaped one of the King’s infamous tantrums began to scurry out of the room quickly. Their silk uniforms rustled loudly, the crystals dangling from their ears casting shards of rainbowed light over the silken cushions, the golden bells on they wore on their ankles and belts jingling with urgency.
He was going to get to the bottom of this. The King called for Bruno to be brought to him immediately. While he waited for Bruno’s arrival he surveyed the garden. The King was a wise man, and had been suspicious at first when Bruno had suggested a BDSM themed garden. But he’d been persuaded that while it might raise some eyebrows, it would be unique and certainly get people talking. But looking at it now, the King was no longer certain that all the topiaries would be appropriate for a visiting dignitary to see.
A gentle knock alerted the King to Bruno’s presence. The King turned to Bruno, anger clouding his vision.
“Bruno! What is this you’ve done? I’m a laughing stock! They’ve called me indulgent, gaudy, without taste!” the King said. Bruno smiled a familiar crooked smile, one that hinted of amusement and placation. He walked slowly towards the center of the room, his leather harness (his only garment) squeaking quietly. Bruno surveyed the room and crossed his arms in a pout. “I think it looks fine.”
The King was outraged! “I won’t have this. I won’t be laughed at! I am King! I am to be respected! Admired!” Bruno crossed the room to the King and cut the King’s words short by gently putting a finger to the King’s full lips.
“You forget one thing, Your Majesty,” Bruno said licking his lips and putting his face so close the King could feel his breath on his face.
“Oh?” the King replied his anger dissipating at Bruno’s familiar touch. “And what’s that?”
“You’re a flippin’ Fairy!” Bruno threw his head back and laughed, his musical laughter filling the chamber.
The King smiled. “Yes, Yes I am.” he thought. And he looked over the room, and over his Kingdom. “I’m not just any Fairy. I’m a Fairy King.” And if a Fairy King can’t be indulgent and gaudy, well, no one could. The King’s laughter joined Bruno’s. Sometimes, it was good to be King.
Nothing good could possibly result from the FairyLand Architectural Gazette calling the kind’s new castle “gaudy” but they had done just that and Flit Flutterby, editor in chief of the historic and respected journal was bracing for a fight. Holding the freshly printed issue, still smelling of ink, in his hands, he detected the familiar trembling sensation through his fingers to his wings; the physical result of extreme nervousness or exhaustion. He took a few deep, cleansing breaths and grabbed a tall glass of nectar. Flit comforted himself also with the knowledge that the majority of the fairy architectural community, particularly the well-respected part, was squarely behind him in this battle that had just been launched.
The king was a sweet guy, as most fairies knew. He was generally well-loved by the flying and non-flying folk. Fairies are notoriously easy to keep happy as long as the water and the nectar flow. The king’s taste in all things aesthetic, however, be it food, clothing, lady fairies, or decorations had always been suspect and downright odd. He exasperated many a royal clothier, gardener and chef with his unrefined and tacky tastes. He was looked upon as loathsome by the top members in the fields of fashion and design, and treated, whenever brought up in discussion, as a joke. To fashionable fairies, the king was an unfortunate embarrassment to the sophisticated set.
The architectural community escaped the tastelessness of the king through the initial years of his reign. But then, when the king’s collection of Hummel figurines outgrew the display room, the king was faced with the necessity of a new and bigger castle. He asked his most favored advisor, Elvis Flitter, to find an architect to design the thing. Elvis, who was, some suspected, the source of much of the king’s obnoxiousness, was all too happy to oblige and by some strange stroke of fate, chose the most ridiculed and shunned architect in FairyLand, George E. Wing.
When Flit had read in the weekly FairyLand Castle News that the royals had hired George, he immediately called a meeting with the FL Architect’s Society and things really started moving from there. Flit had gone to FLU with George and knew that he was a smarmy, arrogant son of a finch that got through school only on his family’s wealth and influence. Flit had followed George’s career, making a call here and there to warn friends of his incompetence. Every project George actually completed had to be re-worked within a year or so of completion, the workmanship was so shoddy and materials so cheap.
As he relaxed on his toadstool, Flit slowly realized that good could come of this thing. There was no room in the fairy architectural world for hacks, and together with the Architect Society, they would take George E. Wing out of the business forever. Then there could be a new and less gaudy castle re-built from the Wing monstrosity, a disappointment that had initially been touted as a “modern innovation”.
Copyright 2008 by MJSC as Lorelei Larsson
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