A gardener’s body has got unusual and specific qualities attached to it.  For example, when a gardener stays too long in one spot, his feet begin to grow roots, something She-Coat just cherishes.  Some of them have fingers that generate organic matter that oozes out of their finger and toe nails, spreading much like honey.  Once that matter is ingested, be it through mouth or soil or any other means, it feeds well and makes for long life and abundance of flora.  A single gardener’s nail in oozing mode could feed Coatingsdale or any planet for thousands of years to come.”

“Foul! Repulsive!” Labaguette exclaims, to which the Captain replies:

“You’d eat anything as long as it’s soaked in Rum, in fact I—“

“—And it wouldn’t take more than a single drop of it for you to have a taste of parrot flesh!” Labaguette retorts.

“—ARE YOU LISTENING?” the King exclaims, “I found the gardener standing with his thighs having disappeared half way into She-Coat’s thickness, still restrained and controlled at that point, She-Coat knowing there was more to the gardener’s tasty legs than first presumed.  The gardener didn’t seem frightened, as if he’d been expecting someone to turn up and save him.  He was polite, but forgetting basic protocol.”

“What?” Labaguette interrupts.

“’Good Morning, Sir,’ he said,”

“Your Majesty, it’s ‘Your Majesty,’ can’t you see I’m wearing a crown?” I said.

“’All creatures are one and the same to me, Sir,’ he said, ‘besides, we may be made differently, but we’re merely creatures who live and die.’”

“Are you prepared to die for ignoring my crown?”

“’I see it, your Majesty.’”


“How can I not ignore your crown?  Do you wish me to touch it?’”


To be continued…©


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