Man! You! I feel an itch! Nay – not my back – deep inside – like something growing – something bad – for me – something that changes everything – something that changes me! It’s growing in my bowels – I can feel it – it’s a cancer upon my land! And. I. Will. Not. Have. It.
I. Will. Not
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
My body will not be the master of me! It will not.
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
Bring me a doctor! No. Bring me a soothsayer. No prophets – who can stomach their righteous smirks? Make it a soothsayer. Quick now. There’s no time to waste.
Grab those visitors. I don’t care what time it is! Bring them to me now!
I will have what they know. They cannot deny me!
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
What’s this you say? My itch . . . my cancer . . . my roiling bowels . . . that thing growing inside me is fear? Get away from me! I have no fear! What would I fear?
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
The Visitors say there is a child and he will be king. I have no son. Who is this of whom they speak? What fool would dare to put forth their own child against me? Who is this pretender? There can be – there is – no other king.
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
And I will kill him. That will end this madness growing inside me. But I do not know who he is. What good are soothsayers if they cannot tell me who he is?!? Where is this child? This son of infamy? This child who plots against me even from the womb? Bring him to me and I will eat him for supper! No. I must not be seen doing this thing. Yet how can I not be? I must kill him. I will say the parents plotted against me and this is their punishment. I won’t just kill him. I will kill them all. It is my right.
I am the king! I. Am. The. King.
All was silence as the king’s cancer spread itself upon the land. And the silence was rent by the keening of Rachel, her children no more.
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