My Fool is a Crocodile

My fool, Old Ben, is a crocodile.

Truly, Old Ben sits in his own pen at my kingdom, Gator Kingdom, which is mine and my domain. Old Ben will not associate with the alligators, and gives them no consort. I remember as clearly as if it had happened yesterday the day that Old Ben was given into my Gator Kingdom. It was a mysterious traveling merchant, the driver of a mysterious caravan, that took a mysterious and cryptic holiday at my glorious kingdom, which I did not understand. His name was Charles Nelson Reilly, and as a parting gift, he gave unto me a moderately sized crocodile which my young son named Old Ben, though he was not at that time old.

As was said before, Old Ben would not associate with the alligators in my Gator Kingdom, nor give them consort. One day, I ventured to his pen, and queried of him:

"Why, Old Ben, do you sit in your pen so desultory, so brooding, instead of frolicking with the alligators, who are your companions?"

And in turn he replied, "Sire, I sit in my pen so desultory, so brooding, for I am a crocodile, and all your other prisoners are alligators. It is bound by ancient and venerable tradition that we give them no association, nor consort." Considering further, he added, "Additionally, I find their short, fat, blunted snouts, whereby they smell, to be profoundly unattractive as opposed to my long, shapely and sculpted one."

But he spoke in a long, forked and sinuous tongue, and was in need of much dental work, so I did not understand.

Withdrawing a dead chicken from the folds of my robe, which provides sustenance to all my subjects, that is, the dead chicken and not the robe, I cast it down into Old Ben's pen and returned to my rounds, troubled by the encounter. The incident at the pen quickly faded from memory, however, and the long summer days, though extensive in duration, passed lightly. One morning, though, I awoke to find my prize troupe of sugar frosted pygmies to be ravaged, and rent asunder. With haste, I made my way to Old Ben's pen, where the crocodile sat brooding and desultory, though encircled with the feather headdresses and spears of my sugar frosted pygmy tribe.

"Why, Old Ben, why have you ravaged, and rent asunder, my troupe of sugar frosted pygmies, which were so prized to me?" I furiously sought of the irascible crocodile, who endlessly vexed me.

And in turn he replied, "Sire, I sought only to satisfy my hunger, which was great, and so I feasted apon your sugar frosted pygmy tribe, which you so prized."

But he spoke in a long, forked and sinuous tongue, and was in need of much dental work, so I did not understand.

Angrily, and sorrowfully, I paced before the pen. Unable to fathom the reason for this atrocity that had been visited on my prize troupe of sugar frosted pygmies, I asked of my crocodile, "Why, oh why must you dine apon my troupe, which I so prized? Was the dead chicken, which is fed to all my subjects twice daily at scheduled feeding times, unsatisfactory?"

Old Ben replied, "Sire, you are clearly a knowledgeable and intelligent man, but in hindsight all things are made clear. I hated and despised your dead chicken, which was fed twice daily, and held conspiracy not to eat it. Whereby, I, through a feat of mirrors and slight of hand, gave the appearance of devouring the dead chicken cast down to me, though in reality artfully directed into a burlap sack. Ingeniously, I cast the dead chicken to the alligators, with whom I may yet not associate, nor consort, and they worship me as a god. Unfortunately, my hunger became great and uncontrollable, like a wild wildebeest, and I was compelled to devour your troupe, which you so prized."

But he spoke in a long, forked and sinuous tongue, and was in need of much dental work, so I did not understand.

Mystified by the actions of my crocodile, Old Ben, I returned to my rounds, ever fearful and wary of the ease which my crocodile devoured my prize troupe of sugar frosted pygmies, and I sleep as a bird.