The King of Scrofula

The King sat upon his throne. Sadly, quietly, he wept. "Woe is me," declaimed he: "I am the King, and it is thus in my purview that I should cure the unfortunate afflictions of others with a touch; foremost in this responsibility being the dreadmost ailment scrofula. But lo, I myself am struck down; and no amount of touching myself may relieve this sad condition."

His advisors sat silently, solemnly saddened. Some, scrofula-scourged souls, sighed; simply surpassed in wit by the magnitude of their Majesty's trouble. But one small group conferred with one another, then hurried to address their King. "Your Majesty," the humble group suggested, "Perhaps you should visit the King of Scrofula? If any could lift your burden from you, he could!"

His Majesty sat, bowed in thought; then he rose abruptly. "Perhaps the Mandate of Heaven is upon me yet!" he suggested joyously. "I will undertake the voyage!" Guards and servants were gathered at once, and the royal cavalcade set out.

Out of respect for the intellect for our readers, we will not deign to mention the mundane adventures of the journey. Instead we will continue to the King's arrival at the demense of the King of Scrofula; missing both arms and one leg, and holding egg rolls that he bought from a vendor outside the door. The King of Scrofula's demense was small and dark. The King could see nothing; but presently, a voice spoke to him.

"I can grant your desire," said the King of Scrofula magnificently, "But I will have to turn you into a styrofoam container."

"A what?" asked the King.

"It's... sort of whitish," answered the King of Scrofula awkwardly. "If you are reluctant, remember; you don't really have any limbs."

"Well, I suppose it couldn't be any worse," sighed the King. "Go ahead."

And that's why the King is now a styrofoam bowl; somewhat less than a foot high, holding three egg rolls and sauce, and covered in aluminum foil. And: now he can cure the scrofula.