Fortunado's Dilemma-- A Fairie Tale.
Dec 09 '02
The Bottom Line No.
Gather around, boys and girls, for I'm about to relate to you a tale, one that takes place in a year past, a year forgotten. It's a tale of a lone minstrel who, for better or for worse, managed to successfully avoid the fate he seemed initially doomed to suffer.
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Many, many years ago, there existed a wonderful, magical kingdom-- the kingdom of Bridgetonia. The Bridgetonians were a sublimely happy people, their mood influenced in some not-so-small part by the exquisiteness of their dwelling. Humans, animals, and supernatural creatures alike lived together in harmony. The foliage of the area was sweet-smelling, and, what's better, it was edible! A sweet, delicious, non-alcoholic wine flowed through the creeks and rivers. King Alberto and Queen Tippernia did not rule with iron fists-- rather, they were fair, level-headed monarchs, who held great feasts on the lawn of their castle for ALL members of society to partake in, and who served to keep the peace amongst the townspeople. Yes, life was just a lark for the people of Bridgetonia, and how they loved it so!
One day, a mysterious (if good-humored) wandering minstrel stumbled his way into Bridgetonia. His name was Fortunado, and he had the sweetest of voices, able to sing at any octave, and smooth as silk. He played a lovely mandolin, and when he strummed his mandolin, all the womenfolk were struck with desire, and stared at Fortunado with huge lovestruck eyes, swooning all the while. The menfolk didn't even mind that their brides and betrothed were so enamored by the minstrel, so prodigious was his talent.
One eve, at a feast held by the King and Queen, the now-legendary Fortunado was given an opportunity to serenade the royal couple. Eager to hear this mythical man perform his famed compositions, the King and Queen leaned eagerly forward, ready to be graced by one of the grandest musical talents of the time. With a disarming smile that caused three of the queen's hand-maidens to faint, Fortunado began to strum and sing.
You've bedded my wife and wrought my home;
methinks I shall do thee harm.
If I do not slit your throat,
I think I shall break thy arm!
The queen was horrified. How could Fortunado sing such a mean-spirited song? Why, minstrels sang of love, of sun, of fluffy bunnies-- not of revenge, vile sexual misconduct, and disturbing violence! How could her people love someone who sang of such things? Tippernia made up her mind then and there-- Fortunado must be stopped.
She interrupted the performance. "Arrest that man!" Immediately, two armed guards scooped up a startled Fortunado and led him, protesting, into the dungeon. Later that evening, Tippernia visited him in his cell.
"Your honor, minstrel-ing is my craft! And what have I if I am not free to compose my songs about whatever I please to compose them about?"
"That's no excuse," snapped Tippernia. "There were children in the audience tonight! What if one of them heard your song and thought it was okay to kill people? Now, wouldn't you feel awful?"
Fortunado hung his head. "I suppose so."
Tippernia softened. "Do you understand what you did wrong?"
"Yes, your honor."
"And do you promise not to do it again?"
"Yes, your honor."
"Very well, then." Tippernia stood up. "You're invited back to the palace to play tomorrow."
Fortunado jumped to his feet. "Tomorrow, your honor? How gracious of you! My endless thanks!"
The very next night, Fortunado was, again, performing for the royal couple. This time, he began to play a different tune. Queen Tippernia smiled. Fortunado sang:
Oh, I wouldn't be a catholic
the religion just makes me sick
and I'll never practice being a Jew
I'm opposed to that religion, too...
Tippernia fumed. "Arrest him!"
Later on, in the dungeon, Fortunado protested. "But, your majesty, I was just speaking the truth! It's true that I'm not a Catholic, and it's true that I'm not Jewish! And it's true that both are by choice, for reason of personal beliefs!"
"That doesn't matter," the queen scolded. "What if a Catholic or a Jewish person heard your song and questioned their personal beliefs? Wouldn't you feel awful?"
Again Fortunado apologized, and again he was invited back to the palace. "One last chance," the queen told him. Fortunado began to sing:
There once was a man from the wood
Who thought other men were quite good
His male voice bellows
But he likes other fellows
And not womenfolk, like he should!
Once again, Fortunado found himself in jail. "But, your majesty," he protested, "it's true that I'm morally opposed to a man bedding another man!"
The queen was furious. "I don't care if you're morally opposed to it or not. I don't care if you want to kill all the little fairies. Don't sing about it in my court. What if my brother, who likes to lay with men, had heard your song, and felt so guilty that he committed suicide? Could you really live with yourself?"
Fortunado hung his head in shame. "No, your honor. I apologize."
Tippernia sighed. "I'm afraid," she said, "that I must order you beheaded."
"No!" Fortunado exclaimed. "Please, give me one more chance! Why, right now, I'm writing a song in my head, one that you can't possibly have any objections to!"
"You're sure?" Tippernia asked.
"Positive!"
She stood up. "Okay, then. One more night."
That night, at Fortunado's concert, Fortunado debuted his new tune.
The temperature is going up,
so let your clothes be shorn!
The temperature is going up,
so let your clothes be shorn!
Wild with passion, all the womenfolk stormed the stage, pulling each others' hair out, scratching, biting, and kicking to be the first to get to the Fortunado. Tippernia surveyed the scene, elated that Fortunado had finally come to a sensible conclusion. As the bodies of the twenty-eight women murdered in the fray stunk up the palace, Tippernia felt a great sense of accomplishment.
Fortunado went down in history as a legend. His earlier work was never mentioned again.
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Smelt just like baloney for some reason.
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