Wahrheit und andere Irrtümer

[Eduard]

" As always, my dear " the creak was interrupted by a soft voice, lacking in any intonation or expression, as mechanical and artificial as the punctuality of its owner on the other hand, yet decrepit after an obviously laborious day filled with who knows what ludicrous events.

The next moment, the muffled sound of a tack erupted from the floor as if a wooden staff plummeted against it. It was right afterwards followed by two rushed and consecutive creaks, one haste driven and melodious in motion while the other slow and clumsy. The creaks ended quickly, and again, a tack shattered the silence which barely outlived the blink of an eye, only to be followed again by two irregular yet consecutive creaks on the wooden floor. It was unknown what or who exactly caused these distressing, ear pestering sounds as the respective room which confined this certainly not melodious events was enshrouded in a somber darkness, an obvious testimony that the place is badly lit.

The three sounds continued one after another in the manner described like a maladroit waltz where each of the singer forgot not only his musical score but his entire set of musical skills as well! Certainly the orchestrator of these incongruous sounds didn't have three legs, no, more than surely he would have a walking stick, and a limp leg hurt in the ordeals that he may have carried.

Silence ensued out of a sudden, the inept waltz has ended out a sudden as if the singers either died by the hands of the criminal which was nothing else but their abhorrent musical talent or simply had a revelation concerning their proficiency. Frankly however, the symphony of waltz has been merely replaced by a quartet of jazz, even clumsier and preposterous as the squeaky sound of stretching leather.

A sigh broke this symphony of ineptitude.

" You were absent for a long time. " the soft, tranquil yet devoid of any articulate animation voice emerged yet again. Certainly the one who worked his vocal chords to resonate these words couldn't be older than the age of forty. It's author however, couldn't be noticed throughout the thick, squalid fog of darkness and obscurity as no light yonder passed.

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King Eduard is the greatest