the girl. the king. the dwarf. the misfit lord.

Can’t fall asleep. What a shame. There is a variety of reasons why there is such a large variety. There was this man, any man…I don’t know…ok…there was this man called George lynch. Yes well good enough…now George walked into the bank on Sunday…there was grass everywhere inside…the scent of pine trees, plastic shrubbery and the vague hint of a dying winter…there were toad-stools in the foyer…in plastic bags…it was to be determined if these toads had hepatitis or not. standing beside the apple tree was a man…he was three feet tall and had three feet.
“hey dwarf…I mean midget…how are you?” asked George.
The dwarf looked at George with somewhat surprise and distaste…wondering what this asshole wanted…there was far too little time for this sort of riff raff jumping out about ruining the days of already tight fitted v-neck sweater wearing poor folk with tiny wills.
“Aaah…ahem…we prefer ‘little people’…” said the dwarf, a bit coldly.
“hah…yeah well I prefer athletic redheads…but no chance…such is life…full of chances but no chance.”
“I gather philosophy wasn’t your best subject?” asked the dwarf whilst scribbling away on notepads and typing on his tiny computer and scratching his balls. “But in any case…there’s an athletic looking redhead by the counter over there…” the dwarf opened a drawer and started petting a Siamese cat.
“Asian huh?” asked George…looking at the cat.

“it doesn’t have feathers god damn it…it’s just a cat…you won’t get bird flu from it…”
George walked across the dining hall…the classroom was still empty…stepping over his shoulders he reached into his back pocket…there was a door knob but no door…
“how do I get to the redhead from here?” wondered George. “Maybe I should just ask this athletic looking redhead by the counter.”
The redhead had red hair and the way her eyes reflected the clouds was nice.

“I hear you’re a redhead…an athletic redhead?” said George…straightening his tie and rubbing his shoe against the back of his pants...trying to remember if he had brushed his teeth… “I should’ve taken a leak before coming…I look thinner that way.” thought George.
“Yes…that could be me…”
“Any hopes and dreams?”
“Do I look crazy to you? I try not to”
“Can I shake your hand?”
“Sure…”
“Will you sit next to me in class?”

George walked backwards until he reached the manager’s office…a strange phenomenon greeted him in the courtyard…but before that, he managed to have a couple of words with the manager…”manageable managing by manageable managers.” said the door. There was a door but no door knob…at least not after it melted…so George reached into his back pocket again…found the door knob without a door and applied previously learned knowledge in complex everyday challenges…like a monkey using a stick to get at ants…George was pleased.
He opened the door…and beamed at the hippie sitting in the chair behind the twelve foot desk.
“Can I help you?” asked the hippie.
“Are you the bank manager?” asked George
“Are you the ring bearer?” asked the hippie
“I would like a job…” said George…he had a feeling things were going his way today.
“What sort of job?” asked the hippie…his sunglasses were transparent but his heart was pure.
“One that pays…” said George…with an air of someone who knows what he’s doing and demands only that…which is rightfully his.
“Money?” asked the hippie.
“Do you have gold?” asked George…this was a new area of bargaining…perhaps he should’ve brought backup…or at least a sub machine gun.
“We have some gold…but there’s a problem…” said the hippie and took an old busted up acoustic guitar…started singing a song about Susanna.

There was a smell of coffee or chocolate in the courtyard…bats were hanging from the tree…fast asleep…it was too early in the morning…George set foot in the courtyard and found the phenomenon again.
“The king requests an audience.” It said to George.
“some king…” answered George and followed the phenomenon…there was a band wagon somewhere nearby…some people were getting on it…others were getting off…nobody seemed satisfied…somebody was offering cigars to young boys…it was either horrendously sexual or just an explanation for why the place smelt of coffee and chocolate.
The king dwelt in a castle. Sitting upon his throne he asked George about the redhead girl…
“Nice boobs?”
“Dunno don’t care for boobies…athletic redhead…”
“Surprising…you go with men then?”
“Maybe if it were really cold…but usually I stick to animals.”
“Is she…er…how you say it in your tongue…er…purty?”
“Yeah she’s ok…I’d ask her number but I hate telephones.”
“I am king you know?”
“Of what?”
“Of this…all of this!!” said the king spreading his arms wide…
“How far?”
“well…er…since this is my castle…we’ll assume that it is the center of my empire…now if horses were to be sent in all directions…from here…until they reached a point where they are killed…they are in my empire…simple.”

“you know what?? You sit on this throne all day…you are a boring fool…your mother should’ve dropped you in a well.” Said George and left the king to his own devices.

George tip toed his way back up to the athletic redhead’s counter. She turned around and batted her eyelids before continuing in her best…voice…

“So you met the king?”
“Man I already like you…so give it a rest…you don’t have to push it…the king just wants to know about your boobies…”
“Take me away…I don’t mind.”
“I have a thing for your eyes…they reflect the clouds with an ethereal clarity that shouldn’t be allowed…and if allowed…then I should at least be permitted to stare…however in any case everything I like is dried up plastic from up close…by the way who’s the dwarf?” asked George.
“He’s the ring bearer.” said the girl with a laugh.
“You’re kidding right? Or are all rings exactly like keys?”
“he’s an employee…he works for this other firm but he’s a temp in our bank…came highly recommended too…the king likes him…says he’s amusing…don’t tell him I told you this but the king wants him to wear a jester hat…you know…the one with the bobbles and jingling crap on it.”
“I’m not really listening to a word you say…”
“Yeah that helps me get out of a lot of sticky situations…”
“I think I’ll take a look around and try to get your perfume out of my blood stream…”
“The menu is on the window if you’re hungry…I can’t come with you…got to work.”

There were pigeons on the…the…edge of the roof…the thingy…but they all flew away once George opened the window and climbed out. With his back against the wall, he inched his way across until he was at the other window…opened it…closed it back again…went through it anyway…took a seat with the rest of the misfits and awaited his turn. Shortly, the door opened and the dwarf came in.

“I’d take a roll call if it weren’t for the fact that there are racists among us…and hypocrites…as well as those who have issues with the vertically challenged.” He was looking at George. So George got up…a bit awkwardly…and began

“Yeah my name is George…I have a thing for athletic redheads…I hate royalty and I don’t care if midgets want to be called porcupines or laggards…they’re midgets…a midget by any other name would still be short and stubby.”

“yes well…George here thinks his opinion is important…why don’t you have a seat George while we look up a suitable study partner for you…somebody worth a stare across the table…across the road…across the divide…across everything you tried…but then changed and lied. It’s about time you defied bad luck and got back on the tide.” Said the dwarf…now looking at a long list of names…he was wearing glasses…dangling at the edge of his nose…some people were offended, others were aroused…some people were staring outside at the large inflatable robot running amok among the citizens…crushing them…mechanization is such a bitch…thought the driver of the tractor as he pulled into the gas station.

“What will it be today martin?” asked the grease monkey.
“fillerup…and get on with your story.”

George was waiting anxiously for his study partner. Sitting in the comfy chair he felt no comfort…not enough anyway. There were stains on his trousers…it’s the damn cheap material…he thought. Plus this coat smells like shit. The redhead walked in.

“You don’t seem athletic to me.” said George as she sat down beside him and took out her notes. She smiled and then told him he should get a hair cut, which was practically just an invitation for him to make fun of her beard. He stared at her for quite a while in silence…

“I don’t see clouds in your eyes anymore…but I wish I did.” Said George after a long time…shook her hand and left.