A Dictator is surprised
|“Oh! It is good to be me!” thought Slagon, the great dictator of the kingdom, Terrashire. He watched as the condemned screamed and bled all over the scaffold, the priests, and anyone else venturing too close to the work of the ravenous pitslogs.
He was not easily amused these days, but he relished these executions. They made him feel powerful, invincible, and almighty in his rule over the serfs and servants of his kingdom. He had condemned each man, woman, and child personally. They had earned his ire in some way or another. Some had not bowed low enough in his presence. Some had pretended to not see him as he was carried by in resplendent glory, perched in his dais like beautiful flower. Some had had the gall to ask for more rations or increased access to medical care. These crimes were a tremendous affront to his dignity.
“Well, they were paying for them now weren’t they.” he thought.
As he turned to speak to his one, loyal confidant, he felt a needle prick in his neck and then nothing else…for a while…until he woke up on the very scaffold upon which he had condemned so many.
Stripped of his vestments and jewels, head and beard shaved, he was tied securely to the blood soaked post. The pitslogs were released, approaching slowly, jaws slavering.
“Was this a bad dream? What was going on? This cannot be happening?”
He looked around at the hate filled faces of his people. Then felt the warmth on his legs as his bladder let loose.
The pitslogs went to work. Tearing Slagon to pieces in front to the roaring crowd.
Slagon fell into hell at dizzying speed. Before him stood a hoard of grinning demons.
"Well, this was the last thing I expected"