Another ode for Baron Luxon

[Lilith7]

https://www.newsroom.co.nz/another-ode-f...F82j2oTJyw

Another Ode for .. Baron Luxon

[b]Bard Billot on the Baron[/b]

 

[b]Fresh Ideas[/b]

High on the twelfth floor

of his air-conditioned palace,

Baron Luxon stares down upon

the mean streets of the City of Auk.

Small fires burn as the Raiders of 

whoop it up in the Merchant’s Quarter.

Baron Luxon stares some more.

High on the twelfth floor

of his air-conditioned palace,

Baron Luxon stares down upon

the mean streets of the City of Auk.

Small fires burn as the Raiders of Ram

whoop it up in the Merchant’s Quarter.

Baron Luxon stares some more.

He scratches his nose.

There is a strange, persistent sense

of pressure building inside his head.

An inchoate concept is forming.

Like an egg hatching, a small feathery

object pops out into the world.

It is an idea.

The Baron springs into action

and summons his Grand Council,

who file into the High Hall

and tuck into some fine grapes

and Thai prawn salad with Chili

and Lime Sauce.

I’ve had a fresh idea, he says.

All is silent

apart from the crunching of Thai prawns.

It’s edgy, original and innovative,

and no one has ever thought of it before,

says the Baron confidently.

There is a long expectant silence

as the Ministers stare at

the Baron’s smooth dome in anticipation.

It’s called Get Tough On The Bandits,

says the Baron.

The Council sighs and looks around

and starts talking amongst themselves.

We could try the leg irons?

proposes beady eyed Simeon “Old Testament” Brown.

Lady Stanford faints;

and has to be revived with smelling salts.

The Baron wonders to himself if she has the stomach

to be Minister of Flayings and Spikings.

Why don’t we do the ol’ "meat tenderiser",

chuckles Sir Lancelot of Uffindell,

swinging a bed leg enthusiastically.

Press gang them into the Navy!

yells Sheriff "Ironballs" Mitchell.

The Baron looks down at the table.

I think we need to just keep it simple, he says:

Flogging, Drawing and Quartering,

and Heads on Spikes at the City Gates.

And the Grand Council breaks

into wild cheers and applause,

for a new idea like this will certainly

achieve its goal, whatever that might be.

Meanwhile, many leagues distant

from the High Hall and the leftover Thai Prawns

being emptied into the slop bin,

in the sad smoky tenements of the Land of Auk,

a dog barks, a baby cries, and by a mouldy motel,

a young bandit plays in the carpark with his toy gun.