Toadytwat approaches The King as he snores up a storm on his throne, drool and spittle issuing forth from his mouth.
<Snzzzk…Whaa?> “Oh, it’s you.” He blinks a few times, wiping the emissions from his quadruple chins. “How many times have I told you not to interrupt my daily naps, TT? I was having a lovely dream where I was whipping the Queen of Byzarp to within an inch of her life, as she begged me for more…”
“Perhaps Your Highness has forgotten his lunch appointment with the Ambassador of Elegarth, so as to secure a trade agreement? Recall he does not speak our language…”
“Ah yes, that miserable feckless excuse of an alien. But, not to worry my minion, as I have fully mastered all aspects and subtleties of Elegarthian, thanks to this translation phrasebook I got off of WeeBay, written by a ‘M. P. Ython’-so not to worry, I am fully prepared!”
After his shower, involving a dozen different automated wire brushes that vigourously scrubbed all filth from him from head to toe, the King donned his finest liveries for the upcoming meeting: a long sloping hat with a huge orange feather, orange robes, a gigantic ruby on his breast. Toadytwat drives him in the royal scooter to one of the Capital City’s finest restaurants (The Phat Phuck Noodle Bar), a full detachment of the King’s personal guards in a single file procession of vehicles (Ban-Non in the one behind The King’s). Heads turned on the sidewalks to behold the great man as he is propelled forward. Oh, how they do so adore me, he smiled.
They enter the restaurant (after his detachment fully sweeps the place, looking for any and all sundry of illicit devices, and in fact found 3 bugs and 1 IED under one of the tables…), and Ban-Non introduces The King to the Ambassador.
“Your Highness, may I present the Ambassador of Elegarth, Diatomeous Blendsplittle.”
“Ah,” replies The King, then proceeds to furiously flip through his phrasebook.
“Heriana defiosk breapens donker liness, caularra!”
I am no longer infected, darling!
At this the ambassador seems a bit taken aback. But the two parties then take their seats, a virtuous feast of victuals arranged on the table.
The King observes the wriggling food items in one dish…flipflipflip…
“Mmm, partenemis scarneradiets entiphas nessimpeakerns!”
My hovercraft is full of Rigellian Slime Eels!
The ambassador seems a bit puzzled.
The King, after gorging himself on a few handfuls of the eels, then directly addresses the Ambassador (flipflip):
“Ganiativalle desitaws batteranid, autorsions bitroes stifies?”
If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?
At this, The Ambassador’s pale green face turns a deeper shade of viridian.
“Viction publaculys Sho Wretopial, hornips scadve costbration!”
Drop your panties, Sir William, I cannot wait till after lunchtime!
The Ambassador starts to shake, a even deeper shade of green filling his face. His two mouths now both droop open, his face frozen in a shock of horror.
“Ni canagetayls spotia comming reciphrank!”
My nipples explode with delight!
At this The Ambassador’s head explodes, sending green ichor flying all over the restaurant.
“Good thing his species’ heads will regrow in a week or so. Come my minions, our work here is done! I am such a clever diplomat, aren’t I, Ban-Non?”
“Yes, Your Magesty,” he replies resignedly.