Dr. Krumbunculus glared at Croutonius, furious at him for sabotaging his attempt at trading severed ears for a forgery that could’ve guaranteed their freedom from imprisonment.
“I understand you may be happy here, Croutonius, but why sabotage my attempt to escape, too?”
“Consider this allegory, Krumbunculus. There is a mighty skyship, sailing through the air. That skyship is society, Krumbunculus. The monetary owner of the skyship is like society, like the cave shrimps, in that they know absolutely nothing of what really exists, they know nothing of skysailing, and nothing still of evading the ever-present risk of skyrates.”
“Oh, come on, Croutonius, Skyrates aren’t real!”
“Bah! Skyrates aren’t real? You are a fool! Just like, ironically, all true members of the society they so hate! Be careful of the cultural veil, Krumbunculus, and be careful you do not pierce it in vein! I sense a desire in your heart, a dark desire to see worlds beyond! I’ve held that desire myself! Let it be known, satisfaction never comes that way, only disappointment, death, and darkness!”
“…Is this still part of the allegory?”
“No, I’d forgotten about the allegory! Your fault, of course, for interrupting me! I’m very old, and very forgetful, you know!”
“Ugh. Don’t keep rubbing it in!” Krumbunculus sighed, rubbing his baby-smooth face in youthful agony.
“Now, continuing the allegory. So society is the owner of the skyship. And all the crew, the crew just doesn’t get along. They all hate eachother, and want to murder one another. Crooks! Politicians! Forgers! All the same ilk, and most of them riddled with skyscurvy. At the pinnacle of the ship, the captain with his mighty telescope, the navigator with his sensual sexton, is the philosopher! In other words, me! Without philosophy, we are lost at sky, forever battered against the clouds, doomed, doomed forever into eternity!”
Dr. Krumbunculus suddenly realized something. While he hated being youthful, and he hated his loss of magic, he realized he had a bit of a physical advantage over Croutonius. And so, he kicked the old man in the shins.
“Aack!”
Croutonius’s dagger clattered on the ground. Krumbunculus stepped on it and kicked it in the air, impressively catching it in midair. Unfortunately, he’d caught the blade and not the handle, so as Krumbunculus brought the dagger closer he cringed as blood poured from his hand.
“Oh, clucking hen, son of a vitch!”
“Hah! Feel the undying sting of your own hubris, young man. Bask in the shame of your foolish youth! You are young and maleable, like soft, stupid clay, whereas I am hardened and cracked and ancient, like you can only aspire to be!” Croutonius suddenly pulled a small, green gemstone out of his robes and tickled it quickly.
“What the cluck is that?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Croutonius chuckled as a large sparkling circle opened beside him.
“Wh-what the cluck is that?!”
“What do you think it is, young blood?”
“Don’t call me that.”
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“It’s the cultural veil! Or, it’s what lies beyond it. ” Croutonius hopped into the circle and waved at Krumbunculus, “You know, I thought I could train you to be like me. I thought maybe, just maybe, you could be my pupil. And that, that is the real reason I conspired to keep us from leaving this prison. But now that it is clear that you could never, ever be my disciple. Oh well, your loss. And thus, I must away. Toodly-woodley, you cockhamned dork!”
“Dork?”
The circle sealed shut, and Croutonius was in the cell no more.
“Oh, cockhamnit!”
“Hey!” screamed Dorma’s voice in the distance, “Why are there all these severed ears lying all over the place? That’s clucking disgusting!!”
***
The suns broiled in the midday sky as Dorma’s whip cracked over Krumbunculus’ back.
CR KKK
“Go on! Put your asses into it! I want all that heavy lumber moved from one side of the labor pit to the other side of the forced labor pit! You there! Come on, put some twerk into it, you youthful little shit!”
CR KKK
“I’m not as young as I look!” Krumbunculus cried up to Dorma, his legs quivering.
“You disgust me, you lazy idiot!” she hissed, “Why, look at 2469 over there! He’s older than you, skinnier than you, and he can haul three times as much lumber, all while singing!”
Krumbunculus turned to look at the grisly prisoner number 2469.
“Look around, look around
Look everyone in the eyes,
Look around, look around,
There are cysts upon my thighs.”
“Great breath support, that number 2469,” Dorma nodded slowly.
“That’s impressive, sure,” Dr. Krumbunculus sighed, laboriously dragging a twig, “But he’s probably in here for murdering somebody.”
“You lie! Not I!
I stole a slice of pie!
My blood sugar was dang-e-rously low
I’ve a condition, you must know.”
“Well, that’s sad,” Krumbunculus considered as Dorma whipped 2469 in the ass five times, drawing up horrible welts.
“Yea,” Dorma nodded, turning and whipping Dr. Krumbunculus a couple times, “But at this point, he’s been moving so much lumber in this labor pit that we can’t really afford to let him go, even though his term’s been up for years!”
“What was that you said?
Can I finally be free?
If that is the truth
Oh how happy I would be.”
“Does he ever speak normally?” Krumbunculus squinted.
“He can,” Dorma sighed, “But he’s got a killer stutter.”
“Ahh,” Krumbunculus nodded as he suffered another lash.
“Shit!” screamed another prisoner as they slipped in a pile of muddy entrails. The large log they were carrying shot from their arms and knocked number 2469 in the back of the head, sending him falling facefirst into the muck and mire.
“Ouch! Ouch!
I’m in a lot of pain
Ouch! Ouch!
There is damage to my brain.”
“Uh oh,” Dorma frowned.
“Holy shit, is 2469 okay?” asked another prisoner, who too was carrying a huge log overhead. Ambling over to look at their sullied companion, this prisoner slipped on the other fallen prisoner’s neck, breaking it and sending the log flying through the air. It landed, unfortunately enough, right on top of 2469. A huge blotch of blood exploded like a popped tomato.
“Welp, so much for that,” Dorma sighed, preparing to whip Krumbunculus again.
“Wait!” Krumbunculus raised his open palms, “Look, Dorma, 2469’s term was up, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s obviously dead now, right?”
“…Yes?”
“So, um, could I maybe take his place?”
“There is no way in hen you have the pipes he had, guy.”
“That’s not what I meant! I meant…well…can you let me go?”
Dorma looked around the forced labor pit, noticing how little Krumbunculus had contributed to its aimless twerkforce.
“Eh. Fine. Why not?”
She did, however, give him another whipping first, just for fun.