Kings

If you could have 50 pounds of anything other than money, what would you want?

Elizabeth couldn't afford his whole body so she put in a bid for 50 pounds of him. The instructions for entering the auction said any or all parts not to exceed 50 pounds. Her budget allowed for exactly the starting bid amount. She entered her offer anonymously as instructed. The notification of her win came precisely as the deadline passed. 

His picture showed a rather tall and lean body type with nice legs and arms, a smooth muscular torso and quite a head of lush hair. The information provided said the brain inside his skull contained a considerable amount of information. The notification of her win informed her that, because of her early bid, she had first choice.

The whole body weighed 200 pounds. Just for fun and because he was made in Britain, Elizabeth decided to convert his weight into stones; one pound equals seven hundredths of a stone or one stone equals 14 pounds. She came up with the answer that 200 pounds equaled 14 stone and 50 pounds of him equaled 3.5 stone. Either way she'd won approximately one quarter of him. 

She wanted a new partner for some time as her last one wore out from constant use; earlier models did not have the durability and stability of the newer ones. They tended toward volatility. Her last partner, who had the name of Richard III, came apart one night during lovemaking as he rode her crying out, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”  

That incident occurred over eight months ago. His guarantee had just run out and she had no recourse. Still, she had gotten great value and much pleasure from Richard III and thus was not bitter at having to replace him. “‘Tis better to have loved once and lost than never to have loved at all,” she thought fancying Lord Tennyson’s famous words.

Based on her research, which ever parts she picked would ultimately grow whatever was not there. The cutting edge rejuvenation process took 10-14 days to complete. Head, shoulders and arms might be nice. That way she could talk to him as he grew; getting to know him; listening to his lovely British lilt. But, instead, “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,” ran through her head and she chose his substantial bottom half. 

She named him Henry VII. Out with the Plantagenets and in with the Tudors she thought. It took much less than the full two weeks for Henry VII to grow his lovely arms, chest and head. In fact, to her utter delight, he became fully functional in only hours. And, just like Richard III, Henry VII’s hair grew in as light, fine ginger. This result gave her immense pleasure for she too was a ginger. “There never was a saint with red hair,” she thought remembering an old Russian proverb she’d heard many times from her grandmother.

One night, as she and Henry VII lay quietly in bed, she reading and he signing and sealing documents in his most Tudor of ways, she heard a knock at her door. “I’ll get it,” she said to Henry VII. “You look terribly busy.” He gave her a regal nod in return for her favor. 

She opened the door and Richard III charged past her in full chain mail regalia. “Henry Tudor resides here and I shan’t have it,” he cried.

“Wait. What?” Elizabeth called to his back. “I recycled you.”

“Out! Out! Out with you Henry Tudor,” he cried at the closed bedroom door. “Roust yourself. We shall meet again and I shall topple you. This room shall become our Bosworth Field!” He raised his broad sword above his head.

Henry emerged from the bedroom without a speck of clothing upon his body. Richard swung his sword and off came Henry’s head. But, even before it rolled into the corner of the room, Henry grew another one. Richard tried again, with the same result. He put down his sword. Both men looked at Elizabeth.

“We all need a cup of tea,” she said. “Sit down on the couch. I’m sure we can work this situation out to everyone’s satisfaction.” 

Especially mine, she thought as she headed into the kitchen chuckling with great glee as she pranced past a framed, cross-stitched sampler she’d made that said,  “It is observed that the red-haired of both sexes are more libidinous and mischievous than the rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength and activity.  Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels.” ©kcasady2014