Once upon a time in the dark days of the great slaughter, there was a determined search for a king who would bring the slaughter to an end.
The wicked reigned in both houses of the shadowy Council, and black-robed tyrants ruled the land. The slaughter continued and the good people mourned. They fought and debated, dissented and deplored for three long dreary decades until their voices grew hoarse. They were disappointed and weary and a little bit leery, but their goal they saw clearly: to shield and not yield until all babies were protected from slaughter.
Finally, the day had come when a king or queen they would send to the White Palace to bring the slaughter to an end.
Three contenders stepped forth against the evil Queen of Slaughter: Prince Slay-’Em, the Sheriff of Floppingham and Friar Mike, in that order.
Prince Slay-’Em wore red, but like Queen Slaughter came from Blueville. They wore different colors, but both wanted to kill.
Prince Slay-’Em was for the slaughter, but said, he “didn’t like it.”
“Will you stop the slaughter?” asked Brian Schmitt.
“No,” he replied, “but I don’t like it one bit.”
As the people could see by the Royal Scrolls, the Sheriff of Floppingham’s new position had holes. Sheriff of Floppingham was always pro-slaughter. He was endorsed by the pro-slaughter lobby. In fact, defending slaughter, it seemed, was the Sheriff’s old hobby. “My mother was pro-slaughter,” he boasted along with his wife, not explaining how he’d escaped with his life.
“Tax-funded slaughter! Catholic hospitals too!” Though the Sheriff wears red, it’s clear he’s true blue.
The Sheriff was asked, “Do you believe a maiden has a right to kill her son or her daughter?”
I never called myself “pro-slaughter,”
I never allowed myself to use the word “pro-slaughter,”
Because I didn’t feel I was “pro-slaughter,”
I would protect the slaughter law, I said, as it was, but I wasn’t “pro-slaughter.”
Then he smiled and he waved and he promised and he paid.
Then somebody said, “If our leaders won’t lead, hey, why don’t we? For the slaughter to end, the message we’ll send with our friar friend named Mike.”
Others jumped up and said, “He’s from our ranks, and I would give thanks to see him take the lead.”
And the poll numbers surged at the thought that the slaughter would be purged, as the people joined behind Mike.
“But he isn’t perfect! Some ranted and raved!”
Then Sir Chuck of Norris rode forth pushing the earth down before him. Now the way would be paved! “I’ll watch the border, just get things in order!”
He lowered his sword and knighted Friar Mike, “I give you Sir Mike-A-Lot who we all Like a lot! He’s the only one we can trust to slay the Slaughter Dragon and the wicked Slaughter Queen. Now that he’s lean, he’s a fighting machine!”
Sir Don-of-the-Wild rode forth on his steed. “I’m ready to lead!” he said. “Sir Mike-A-Lot will protect all the tots from slaughter and make sure each has a mother and a father.”
And following along, 3 million strong, came Don-of-the-Wild’s faithful army.
“Sir Mike-A-Lot,” in one voice they declaraged, “is the one we trust to protect Royal Marriage.”
So Sir Mike led the way, with each son and each daughter, to face the evil queen and her dragon of slaughter.
With new passion they fought, as each of them ought, and the dragon they caught and they slayed him.
Then the evil queen of the Hill was exiled back to Blueville where she and her dragon could no longer kill.
Sir Mike raised his sword and sang praise to the Lord that children and marriage were protected once more. And the kingdom was filled with the children’s laughter, and the red and blue kingdoms lived happily after.
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