It started about a month ago as my second record on the site. It was two lines long. Then JazzSees contributed to it. Then ClintonHays contributed. Then I added some more. And now Mottelz has lent his pen to it as well. Please contribute to decide where this story goes next. The collab is here: http://www.hitrecord.org/collaborations/7037 we hope to discover the end together.

***

We begin our tale of woe and wonder

To flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder.

The night was ripe with terrible conjure;

Whispers of scheming and horrible plunder.

Inside an old abandoned lot,

The villains hatched their wicked plot

To sneak in, silent and unseen,

Into the palace of the king;

A scheme so evil, vile and foul,

It made them want to take a shower;

A plan so dangerous and mad,

It filled their hearts with mortal dread.

And yet, the villains trudged ahead, 

Full knowing they may wind up dead. 

Fate favourable to what would come 

If they decided to back down. 

The time was now - 

And half expecting to get caught 

They cast their lot

For those were no mere men,

Their souls were wrought and bought,

By a creature once described as "half argonaut"

His past and purpose shrouded in doubt

Knotted in secrets, tainted in blood..

The midnight hour struck

And, hidden in the dark,

They snuck in through a hole

Inside the castle wall...

***

The king had treasure beyond measure 

But the most precious prize of all

The thing that brought him greatest pleasure...

You'd never guess - an old rag doll!!! 

No, really! Go ahead and laugh. 

After his father's tragic death 

The doll was all the boy had left

(besides the kingdom and the wealth).

And every night, by candlelight,

He'd travel through a secret door,

down a winding corridor,

Through a maze of passageways,

To a secret hiding place,

down, down, down  

to a chamber in the ground,

where in a vault, upon a mount,

his precious doll lay safe and sound. 

***

The midnight hour struck. 

The four men cloaked in black.  

"There is not turning back.

It's time to mix the drug..."

***

"Bring me my clogs", the young king belched. 

And immediately, the royal clogs were fetched by his loyal Page. 

The young king rose from his throne, yawned.

Turned to the Page and said: 

"I want to be left alone!" 

Instantly, the throne room was cleared, 

The entourage disappeared

Faster than an Irishman murders a pint of beer. 

The young king waited for the sound of footsteps to subside

Unlocked a secret passage 

And disappeared inside.

The king started a walk 

like he did every night.

He trudged through the passages

Absent of light.

He strolled through the walls

Of his castle, you see,

For what the king sought wasn't found easily.

It was deep in the ground 

(far below sound) 

Locked in a vault 

With guards yelling 'Halt'

In the depths of a lake

With a three headed snake 

Under a mirror 

which couldn't be clearer. 

Deep in these bowls

was where he kept his teddy 

his longtime companion

the immortal Freddie

Every night, there he'd go

and kiss Freddie good night. 

And when he'd return

he'd know all would be right... 

He waved a guard 

Doors flung apart 

He entered a fake boudoir

And with a show of blunt dislike 

He told the guard to take a hike 

After the door behind him closed

A golden mount before him rose 

And on it, in a beam of light, 

Sat his stuffed bundle of delight. 

The toy he'd gotten from his daddy

The one, the only, best bud - Freddie.

***

In all known pharmacology 

No substance strikes as potently

As extract from a wild rose 

Boiled in sap of young primrose 

It has no color 

Has no odor 

It readily dissolves in water 

And even at the smallest dose 

Makes men decisively morose 

Their hearts congest

Their minds compress

A state of utter helplessness 

They spend their days in listless trance  

Deflated, lifeless and depressed 

Defeated, desperate, possessed

Their hearts then overgrow with grass 

And soon from all the extra stress 

Men into vegetables regress. 

And how could anyone suspect 

That when, that night, the king came back

It was the last his men would see 

their Liege show signs of sanity 

He yawned as he approached his bed

Soft pillows wrapped his heavy head 

His loyal Page blew out the light 

And the young king snored in delight

While with his dreams into the night

The young king's sanity took flight

Determined never to return -

And in the kingdom's regal throne

Seeds of dementia were sown 

(to be continued)