The Tale of the Fat Prince

From my Nano. Came up with it while listening to this song and just contemplating. Enjoy!

            Azasheer looked at Dameneh. The boy was moping about in the sands, sniffling. “She wasn’t what I had thought she’d be. What happened? I loved her.” The rambling continued for some time until Azasheer spoke up.

“Have you ever heard the story of the fat child?” The leather skinned man twirled his white beard. “It is a story of one given to excess.”

This caused Dameneh to look up from his pitiful mourning. “I haven’t. What does that….”

“Shut up, boy. I’m going to tell you this story and you’re going to learn a valuable lesson from it.

“Once there was a kingdom of great bounty. In that kingdom was a prince who loved his spiced meats and sweat treats. He loved confectionary goods along with fat laddened pork and beef. He ate until finally he was a blob upon his floor, a pillow for his pillows, a monstrosity with so many chins and folds one could create a map of his great girth and plot adventures for all sorts of vermin. It was said once a rat was found in his fourteenth chin, though there was also much debate as to whether it was a chin or a breast fold. Either way, we move on.

“Finally, one day, he woke up. Not just waking up from sleep, but from the haze he had steeped himself in. He said, ‘Sweets and spice are very nice, but there is something wrong with me. I don’t want these sweets and spices.’ The servants looked at him, bewildered. This fat man was unable to move without aid, and yet here he was, claiming he would take back his former self? This could not be done.

“But the fat prince was determined. He was tired of his girth, of his crippled form. He had fed it too much and it was nothing of worth. It was sweet and spicy, but nothing which would give his soul flavor. Nothing that would give his life meaning. He had done nothing, and this urged him on to become something of greater worth than he had ever imagined.

“So he broke out of his flesh. His will was so great, that the man underneath the corpulent belly dug its way out and shed fat and skin until there was nothing left. Underneath was a man chiseled and hard, scarred and ready for life. Fat fell from his form when he stood and flexed, a man of such beauty that the servants could do little more than gawk. With that, the prince took off into the desert to prove his new worth and to solidify his power and potence.

“You,” he poked Dameneh, “Are that impotent, fat, disgusting prince. Stop being that. Become a man. Or I will put you down like the cur you act as. She was not your master. You were. Wiggle out of that fat soul and make something of yourself.” With that, Azasheer walked off to sit by himself, away from the fire. His skin glowed red. Dameneh just stared in horror. But the assassin was right. It was time to shed the emotional fat.

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