The King

Its pretty much a pointless story.

The night was dark and in the depths of it, The King reached for the bottom. He was a man of beastly proportions, with thick fragrant red hair and imposing copper sideburns. He was considerably overweight, but his frame held it well. His eccentric way of dress combined with his haughtiness, struck a balance between repulsiveness and curiosity. The Kings favorite sport had long been drinking and he was the self-proclaimed champ. One of The Kings oldest, and only remaining drinking buddies, was a short stocky man named Rudyard. Rudyard had fair skin and a gentle sincere way about him. He also had a mysterious talent for bringing out secrets in people, and he never said more than he needed to. They were friends for many years, but the truth was, The King never really liked Rudyard and he found something irritating about him. It was in the same manner that he had found everyone irritating, but as far as friends go, Rudyard sufficed.

The two sat in the corner of their favorite pub, hammering beers, and shots like tyrants. The King’s drink of choice was a cold brew, (any kind really, although he preferred them hoppy) and a shot of Rumplemints, the mint made him feel frisky. Rudyard also liked beer but had a wicked taste for whiskey. He was infamous for being able to drink large quantities and seem completely sober. The King admired this and would often try and challenge it. The two men went about the process of drinking quite differently. The King didn’t veer far from his table very often, except to replenish his drink, or to drain his royal artery. He would sometimes scribble obscure thoughts that popped into his head onto cocktail napkins, saving them until he got home. In the moment, whatever idea that had captured him, he would savor, until it grew stale. A few days later, he would re-examine the scribbles, although they never had the same effect. 

The King watched the crowd passively, zeroing in on whatever social dynamic caught his attention. He found crowds strange and interesting, but preferred to be disassociated from them. Rudyard was the opposite, and enjoyed the company of people, and even though he was a man of few words, he was still very social. Sometimes he would take his drink and wander in and out of the crowd, where he would mingle, converse, and joke with everyone. The King was glancing over the multitude when he noticed Rudyard chatting with a girl near their table. The girl seemed energetic, with rosy cheeks, and portly arms. Ripe for the picking The King thought as he rose from his stool. He made his way over to Rudyard, nudged him on the arm, and whispered “Who’s the Cooz?”  Rudyard batted his eyes in contempt and before he could respond the girl interrupted.

“Hi! I like your outfit! She said energetically. What’s your name?”

“Umm well my mom told me not to give my name to strangers.” The King said dryly.

“Hahaha well my names Cindy… So now we’re not strangers anymore.” She said with a charming smile.

“Alright, fair enough, they call me The King.”

Cindy began to laugh hysterically, as if possessed. Her cheeks grew rosier, and in the midst of her hysterics, she asked,

“Who calls you The King ahahahaha?”

A fraction of a smile crept across Rudyard’s’ face, his eyes slowly brushed over Cindy and his features stirred with blooming fascination. The Kings’ face emptied and his expressionless eyes locked into the soul of the girl who dared question him. Her stomach trembled, but her eyes stayed emotionless, and with steady resolve she stayed locked into The Kings’ gaze. There was something in The Kings’ calmness that mesmerized her and gave her an unsettled feeling. She didn’t know what it was…Was it his unwavering confidence? Was it his massive physique? And why on satans’ blue earth is he dressed like that, she thought… The Kings’ stare kept its persistence, fixing its point somewhere deep inside her, he could feel her tremble. His index finger rose up and scratched one of his sideburns, and then with a flat even tone he asked her calmly, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

Cindys’ face turned crimson and before she could put her thoughts into words, she started to berate him, throwing out one insult after another.

“What is wrong with me? When is the last time you’ve looked in the mirror you piece of s**t? Who wears long johns and a kimono to a f*****g bar? Are you too fat to fit into normal clothes? Everything about you is disgusting, and I don’t understand how nature hasn’t weeded you out of existence! How are you even allowed to exist?” Cindy said trembling.

All the chipperness that she once exuded had now evaporated and turned into rage, her lip quivered, as she gasped to get her breath back. She stared at The King with the twisted grimace of an emotional warp, her body trembled, as she waited for The Kings response. The King stared vacantly at her, looked her up and down, and the voluptuousness of her body began to register in his mind, and he felt a surge of power run through his royal artery. The hint of a distorted smile displayed on his face, her words still resonated in him, and a cynical glaze melted across his eyes. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he flashed a wink, and in a questionable tone told her “thank you.”

Bewilderment came over Cindy, and she looked as though all of her circuits were breaking down. She went to say something, but before she could The King interrupted.

“What are you drinking? You should come sit with me and Rudyard; I’ll buy you a drink.” The King asserted casually.

She shifted her eyes to Rudyard, and he returned the glance with a certain openness and understanding, she felt some of the tension dissolve, and looking at his gentle face she started to smile again.

 “Sure, I’d love to have a drink with you guys.” She said, with her smile and her eyes still on Rudyard. “I’d like a cranberry and vodka please.” She told The King prettily.

The King sidled up to the bar with incredible stealth. He was feeling so good that he bought himself an extra shot of Rumplemints, I will be extra frisky now he thought, she won’t be able to handle it… The bar was busy and as he waited for their drinks he envisioned what his life would be like tomorrow. He thought about Cindy and wondered about what kind of movies she liked, and then he said to himself I hope she likes ham…. He brought all their drinks back to the table, whiskey and a stout for Rudyard, a double vodka cranberry for Cindy, and of course an I.P.A for himself, as well as some Rumplemints.

The three sat at the table pounding drinks for quite some time. Whenever they were empty The King refilled them. The conversation flowed smoothly, with hardly a word from Rudyard except for an occasional chuckle, or quirk. Cindy found The King to be interesting, and was quite amused by him. He told her about how when he was a child, he refused to use coasters and that he had gotten him banished from his mother’s house, and ever since then his contempt for coasters had grown even stronger. He also told her about his loathing for white chocolate and how it was nothing but an imposter. Cindy was a gracious listener, and she had a great way of rolling with conversation. She told The King about her fascination with squishing things, and that whenever she goes to the grocery store, she makes it a point to creep through the bread isle, and squish at least a few loaves of bread. The King thought this was tremendously funny, and she made The King bust out in laughter several times, which happens rarely. The King had never met a girl that he connected with so well, and the three of them had all gotten on very well. He thought they were all ideal drinking mates, and as the drinks flowed generously for some time. Then he felt it was time to relinquish his artery.

The King swaggered to the latrine feeling as though he had been touched by the hand of Zeus, he chuckled to himself with an easy arrogance. After The King had left the table Rudyard found Cindy looking at him with soft eyes. His eyes mirrored hers, and he could see that some of the rosiness from her cheeks had flushed to her lips, her eyelids fluttered like she was on the edge of an emotion. Rudyard without hesitation grabbed and kissed her. It was the kind of slow mysterious kiss that only exists with strangers.  Neither of them could pull away, and by the time The King came out of the bathroom, they were pressed against the wall kissing violently. They didn’t notice The King come out, they didn’t notice anything.

The King threw on his cape and slid out the back door without them noticing. He only lived a few blocks away, and he walked with majestic speed for a man of his size. It was winter and the wind ripped through him, it started to chaff his face, so he slung his cape around it. The King stumbled in his back door and shook off the cold. He went to the fridge, and stacked himself an enormous ham sandwich. He poured a giant glass of milk to match and went to his throne. He sat down in his throne and began to devour his sandwich, eating half of it in one bite. He took a gulp of milk and set it down on the table. He flipped on his T.V and pulled the lever on the side of his thrown, making him recline. He took another bite of sandwich and rested the remainder on his chest. The King grabbed his milk and took a sip, he focused his attention on the T.V, and the soft glow from it, reflected the glistening in his eyes. He rose up his head to look at the sandwich on his chest, and the water in his eyes began to cascade down his cheek, making their way to his ham sandwich.  

Author's Note

I appreciate honesty.

Reviews

[sammy mendel]

I appreciate people who appreciate honesty, and I hope you can get something out of this.

OK, well firstly you use way too many modifiers ("thick fragrant red hair" etc.)

You also need to learn the use of apostrophes, such as "the king's" instead of "the kings" or "the kings' ", both of which you employ.

You don't separate clauses correctly, often using a comma where it needs a colon or an "and" inserted.

"to drain his royal artery" - surely you mean bladder?
"portly arms"?
"a cynical glaze melted across his eyes" - mixing your metaphors, glazes can't melt any more than "a granite look swam over his face" ...
"he had gotten him banished" - himself banished?
"and that whenever she goes" - mixing tenses, should be "whenever she went"
"and as the drinks flowed generously for some time." - ....? (lose "as")

Having said that, it's obvious you have genuine talent, and your characterisation is in fact much better than mine.
"his frame held it well"
"He also had a mysterious talent for bringing out secrets in people, and he never said more than he needed to."

I actually liked the whole concept behind this, and I thought the ending was sad enough without him crying. But you need to apply yourself more to the technical side of your writing, because it has issues and that can be distracting.