[Mid-2017 Event] The Chronicle of Duke Pailskull
2
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
Prologue: Duke Pailskull sat at the helm of a space craft, traveling to a world where he was announced the victor of a political election, an event where fools line up for hours to pretend as if voting for their favorite candidate might make a difference, when ultimately it is just to give the already powerful and rich the ability to have even more power and riches on the promise to implement programs and side on issues that are more favorable to the voter. The Duke had won such an election and was on his way through galactic space to accept his newfound position. This is the story of his victory. This is the time of his triumph. This is the moment where the author decided to affix the title of the work into the entry. This is the Chronicle of Duke Pailskull.
“Duke Pailskull, sir, we are ten minutes from viewing the planet in the distance.” A poorly paid intern spoke from behind the dark brooding leader.
“That is Duke Pailskull to you.” The Duke spoke out coldly in a booming, yet muffled, voice. The intern looked confused and took a moment to scratch his head in thought. “The culmination of my many incarnations have arrived at this moment where I would win three general elections at once. Before, only space was within my grasp, but now my scientists have perfected the ability to traverse time as well. Sending my legion backwards in time, I have changed the outcome of the past three elections to all come out victorious. My venture into political leadership will be complete in these ten minutes. Thargret Matcher, Jim Lieutenant, and Teresa June, the previous winners and household names will soon be rewritten and forgotten.” The dark figure tapped the fingertips of his black gloves together in appreciation of his accomplishments before setting them back on the arm rests.
“Yes, sir. It really is marvelous. Twisting the timelines to not only change the outcome and make you the winner, but also to twist them further and have them celebrate your victories years apart all at once…You truly have mastered the space-time continuum.” The intern nodded and groveled.
“Of course I have, you imbecile. The author wrote me that way, inspired by satirical platitudes that would appease the political interests and themes of the contest.” The intern nodded, then stopped and scratched his head in thought once more. “Of course, it’s beyond perfect. Resorting to fourth-wall breaking is cliché, but the author hopes he will be avant-garde. He is naïve.” A few confusing and awkward moments of silence pass until the intern breaks the silence.
“Duke, when you acquire control over the country, will you keep those promises you made to the public?” The black-dressed ruler raised a hand to his metallic cylindrical jaw in thought.
“Which exact promises are you referring to?” The intern flipped a few pages on a clipboard, skimming information.
“The return and subsequent removal of nuclear weapons, free bicycles for all, the establishment of—instead of grammar schools— “gamma” schools, legalizing the hunting of fox hunters—” The duke interrupted him there.
“Yes, yes, all true, Mick.”
“It’s Max.”
“Mack.” The intern sighed. “And those gamma schools will be a god send, mark my words. Blasting those who misbehave into deep space, that will set a firm precedent.”
“Yes, of course. Certainly, sir. And I support banishing Hotie Kapkins to the Phantom Zone. But…The nationalization of A Dell? I hate A Dell. She is a horrible singer.”
“Oh, don’t fuss over it. The public will do as they see fit. What you should fear instead is the referendum on whether to have another Crexit referendum. If you thought the process was taking an eternity now, just you wait. Let us hope my powers of time will fully master by that point so we may scuttle along.”
“If you say so, sir...We are approaching planet Urf. Entering the atmosphere now.”
The ship landed on the spaceport formerly known as Burningham and it wasn’t long before Duke Pailskull entered from stage-right into a stadium filled with civilians celebrating his victory and welcoming their new intergalactic space overlord. The cheering came to a halt as he approached the podium to speak. His muffled voice connected to the speakers.
“I thank the commonwealth of the citizenry for the occasion of my victory as lord of your land. I will not mince words. Your readiness to elect an intergalactic space lord might have been poorly founded. Your expectation that I, as any other elected official, will care about you, the people, and your troubles are misplaced. In essence, your vote doesn’t matter, and will never matter, but I will still do the utmost within my power to return us to a grander time where politics and international relations weren’t the shit show that they are today. I will reinstate Deefax so that you are all properly informed as to your position as slaves to my domain so that you will be able to serve the greater good and act as the mindless supporting sheep that you undoubtedly are. Welcome to the Kingdom of the Pail!” The audience roared in support that their life energies will be put to good use in service of their new sovereign monarch.
Duke Pailskull dabbed, exited stage-left, and met Max behind a curtain. “Congratulations, sir. I can hardly believe you heralded such a positive response.” However, the Duke tilted his steel head towards the sky, for he knew that there were bigger fish to fry.
“It may seem good now, Mack. But our efforts have only just begun. For above us now is someone even more important than that league of easily brainwashed idiots, and that is the reader. Yes, you, the reader. I see you out there. Who are you? high_time? Manes? AxisLight?...Or...leonard267. I know you’re out there, you can’t hide from my blue-tinted visor of an eye. Vote for me, leonard267! Vote me for best entry! I even wrote a prologue, and it wasn’t at all like the shit found in Game of Throws!” Duke Pailskull raised a clenched fist into the sky and Max felt himself go a little more insane with each passing moment. The two left to return to the spaceship where the lord in black sat once again at the helm of his intergalactic vessel to brood how his scientists would develop a way for him to exit this temporary shell of a story. If only he could be real. If only he could affect the world outside. If only the possibility was out there to grasp. Then his life would have meaning. Then he would feel complete. And then the author would finally decide to end this meaningless exposition.
“Duke Pailskull, sir, we are ten minutes from viewing the planet in the distance.” A poorly paid intern spoke from behind the dark brooding leader.
“That is Duke Pailskull to you.” The Duke spoke out coldly in a booming, yet muffled, voice. The intern looked confused and took a moment to scratch his head in thought. “The culmination of my many incarnations have arrived at this moment where I would win three general elections at once. Before, only space was within my grasp, but now my scientists have perfected the ability to traverse time as well. Sending my legion backwards in time, I have changed the outcome of the past three elections to all come out victorious. My venture into political leadership will be complete in these ten minutes. Thargret Matcher, Jim Lieutenant, and Teresa June, the previous winners and household names will soon be rewritten and forgotten.” The dark figure tapped the fingertips of his black gloves together in appreciation of his accomplishments before setting them back on the arm rests.
“Yes, sir. It really is marvelous. Twisting the timelines to not only change the outcome and make you the winner, but also to twist them further and have them celebrate your victories years apart all at once…You truly have mastered the space-time continuum.” The intern nodded and groveled.
“Of course I have, you imbecile. The author wrote me that way, inspired by satirical platitudes that would appease the political interests and themes of the contest.” The intern nodded, then stopped and scratched his head in thought once more. “Of course, it’s beyond perfect. Resorting to fourth-wall breaking is cliché, but the author hopes he will be avant-garde. He is naïve.” A few confusing and awkward moments of silence pass until the intern breaks the silence.
“Duke, when you acquire control over the country, will you keep those promises you made to the public?” The black-dressed ruler raised a hand to his metallic cylindrical jaw in thought.
“Which exact promises are you referring to?” The intern flipped a few pages on a clipboard, skimming information.
“The return and subsequent removal of nuclear weapons, free bicycles for all, the establishment of—instead of grammar schools— “gamma” schools, legalizing the hunting of fox hunters—” The duke interrupted him there.
“Yes, yes, all true, Mick.”
“It’s Max.”
“Mack.” The intern sighed. “And those gamma schools will be a god send, mark my words. Blasting those who misbehave into deep space, that will set a firm precedent.”
“Yes, of course. Certainly, sir. And I support banishing Hotie Kapkins to the Phantom Zone. But…The nationalization of A Dell? I hate A Dell. She is a horrible singer.”
“Oh, don’t fuss over it. The public will do as they see fit. What you should fear instead is the referendum on whether to have another Crexit referendum. If you thought the process was taking an eternity now, just you wait. Let us hope my powers of time will fully master by that point so we may scuttle along.”
“If you say so, sir...We are approaching planet Urf. Entering the atmosphere now.”
The ship landed on the spaceport formerly known as Burningham and it wasn’t long before Duke Pailskull entered from stage-right into a stadium filled with civilians celebrating his victory and welcoming their new intergalactic space overlord. The cheering came to a halt as he approached the podium to speak. His muffled voice connected to the speakers.
“I thank the commonwealth of the citizenry for the occasion of my victory as lord of your land. I will not mince words. Your readiness to elect an intergalactic space lord might have been poorly founded. Your expectation that I, as any other elected official, will care about you, the people, and your troubles are misplaced. In essence, your vote doesn’t matter, and will never matter, but I will still do the utmost within my power to return us to a grander time where politics and international relations weren’t the shit show that they are today. I will reinstate Deefax so that you are all properly informed as to your position as slaves to my domain so that you will be able to serve the greater good and act as the mindless supporting sheep that you undoubtedly are. Welcome to the Kingdom of the Pail!” The audience roared in support that their life energies will be put to good use in service of their new sovereign monarch.
Duke Pailskull dabbed, exited stage-left, and met Max behind a curtain. “Congratulations, sir. I can hardly believe you heralded such a positive response.” However, the Duke tilted his steel head towards the sky, for he knew that there were bigger fish to fry.
“It may seem good now, Mack. But our efforts have only just begun. For above us now is someone even more important than that league of easily brainwashed idiots, and that is the reader. Yes, you, the reader. I see you out there. Who are you? high_time? Manes? AxisLight?...Or...leonard267. I know you’re out there, you can’t hide from my blue-tinted visor of an eye. Vote for me, leonard267! Vote me for best entry! I even wrote a prologue, and it wasn’t at all like the shit found in Game of Throws!” Duke Pailskull raised a clenched fist into the sky and Max felt himself go a little more insane with each passing moment. The two left to return to the spaceship where the lord in black sat once again at the helm of his intergalactic vessel to brood how his scientists would develop a way for him to exit this temporary shell of a story. If only he could be real. If only he could affect the world outside. If only the possibility was out there to grasp. Then his life would have meaning. Then he would feel complete. And then the author would finally decide to end this meaningless exposition.
Spoiler:
1
Duke Pailskull sat at the helm of a space craft, traveling to a world where he was announced the victor of a political election, an event where fools line up for hours to pretend as if voting for their favorite candidate might make a difference
the opening sentence already made me laugh, good job.
...
“Yes, of course. Certainly, sir. And I support banishing Hotie Kapkins to the Phantom Zone. But…The nationalization of A Dell? I hate A Dell. She is a horrible singer.”
SOMEONE LIKE YOUUUUUUUU.....
ain't really fond of her either lol
i kinda like Lady Gaga more, especially the remixes from TRONICBOX.
...
dat meta ending truly got me lol, at first i thought where it went meta at first paragraphs were unnecessary but it ended up being a good one, bravo
2
Yanker
I read hentai for plot
This is such a leonard piece LOL
Especially love the part at the end about the Game of Thrones prologue
Especially love the part at the end about the Game of Thrones prologue
1
leonard267
FAKKU Non-Writer
Sorry for not getting back to your entry for so long. It is a very valiant attempt. For some reason I have to read it slowly to understand what was going on. I now realise that my style of writing is hard to read! It could be because of how absurd the story is that it is difficult to digest or create logical connections. It could be because of some of the terms introduced. Most importantly, I blame the narrator monologuing too much before getting on to the next plot point.
I have to compliment you for mixing so many incompatible themes together. Plenty of references to UK politics though. Half tempted to rewrite it to see if I can make it make sense to me.
As for voting for you, I have already given you $30! Be quiet!
I have to compliment you for mixing so many incompatible themes together. Plenty of references to UK politics though. Half tempted to rewrite it to see if I can make it make sense to me.
As for voting for you, I have already given you $30! Be quiet!