Begging. Sniveling. Filthy. Peasants.
I've been deported, enslaved and sentenced to the fields. My royal chambers have been reduced to a cell, hardly 3x3 with no windows and housed next to a cell with some feral smelling rube. Nearly fifteen generations have passed since my ancestor accompanied our Queen to the guillotine. We provided penultimate comfort for our Queen, and even after the peasants took her from us, we were sentenced to the Papillion House in Paris. My line can be traced through frescos dating back hundreds of years, and I am treated like a criminal! Beautiful tapestries depicting my royal line in interwoven strands of gold, silver and purple, GONE. Lush pillows and mattresses encasing my bulk as I burrow down for the night, LOST. Now I exist on the mercy of others.
Every day the bearded nazi drives me through the fields. Yelling orders, giving generously to the destruction of my pelt with every mistake, she pushes me to exhaustion. I need at least 16 hours of sleep to maintain my standard of luster. Who do they think they are? One of these days, I will have my vengeance. The little beard will never dare to sully me with her presence. The two-legs will prepare food worthy of a prince, and they will bow before me! I will regain my past! They will sleep in tiny cells, begging for their freedom. They will care for the fields while I watch from above. They will suffer for what I've lost! Filthy peasants....
No comments:
Post a Comment