The Rule Of Law & Other "Bedtime Tales"

Wherein the Conundrum Begins

One day as a happy-go-lucky bilge farmer was watering his favorite 'tree' (Staphylococcus Canidae Xanthocaridus) in the Public Park, there came a knock at the door. It was the Police Man, local hero. He had just rescued the farmer's colour-blind daughter from a burning water processing plant, single-handedly. "Woof", she exclaimed excitedly.

"How can I ever thank you enough?" the Police Man's 'Things To Say When Served And/Or Protected' card read, and so too did the bilge farmer, our protagonist. "Woof" exclaimed his daughter again.

"You could start by wiping that smug grin off your hideous bilged-out visage;" began the Police Man. "I don't like you. You are Ugly." said the Police Man. "Woof" said the bilge farmer's daughter once more. "Alright. I will stop smiling." said the bilge farmer, but something was wrong: he could not.

The Police Man was put off by this. He didn't know that the bilge farmer's face was made out of wood, and could not move. "If that's the attitude you're going to have, I'm putting her back in the burning water processing plant!" he exclaimed. "No! Please! Don't!" said the bilge farmer, grinning widely. "Woof" said the bilge farmer's daughter for a fourth time.

Alas; 'twas too late. The bilge farmer's daugher was cast into the burning water processing plant, where she landed in a pool of semi-processed water which was not burning, and survived. "Woof", she thought silently to herself. The heartbroken bilge farmer was forced to sell his bilge farm, which was a shame. Five years later, the Police Man would recite a harrowing account of these events to the audience attending the bi-weekly "Give Money To The Police" event, whereupon he would recieve a standing ovation and a litany of high honors from the God-Emperor, who was dead.

The Wishes of The Muskrat

There once lived a Muskrat named "Josephine" who was allergic to Cantaloupe. It was not unusual for a Muskrat to be allergic to the humble Cucumis Melo, indeed, it was the standard order of Muskrat Existence that Cantaloupe would be inedible. However:

Josephine was enamoured with the notion of eating cantaloupe someday, somehow, somewhere. It was her greatest and most enduring dream, to eat cantaloupe. "If only I weren't incapable of ingesting cantaloupe" she thought silently to herself one day. "I must devote my life to the cure for this perilous malady."

And so began the Work. Day after day, to the extent possible to a muskrat, Josephine experimented and researched and etc. etc. fueled by the passion for progress burning in her Mammalian heart, which also pumped blood. It is no surprise, then, that eventually, the cure was found. But she was too late:

Legislation was passed by the Committee of Legalians which made Cantaloupes illegal in Josephine's sector of the Magical Fun Animal Forest. "This will not do" she thought silently to herself. "I must do something to make sure all Muskrats can enjoy the new non-allergenic cantaloupe sensation."

This was a more difficult problem, however, and Josephine never solved it. "It is a shame I never solved that problem" thought Josephine silently to herself as she passed away 4 years later, because Muskrats don't live very long.

The Tale of The Fantastic Inventor

"That is the way things are" said the sanitation worker. "I enjoy watching films in theaters on opening day" replied the Canadian Mounted Police Officer. "My uniform is orange, but yours is red, I like yours better" replied the sanitation worker. "Would that it were so" replied the Canadian Mounted Police Officer, and shot the sanitation worker with his tranquilizer gun. "There's enough tranquilizing agent in that dart to render a mammal of considerable size, one larger than you, inert," the Canadian Mounted Police Officer smirked, pointing a gloved finger at the dart stabbed into the tip of the sanitation worker's nose. "You will be unconscious soon enough." said the Canadian Mounted Police Officer.

It is not working. "It is not working." said the Canadian Mounted Police Officer. "It is not working." said the sanitation worker. Indeed, it was not working. The sanitation worker was completely in posession of his faculties, it's like he hasn't been shot with tranquilizer agent at all. "This cannot be," gasped the Canadian Mounted Police Officer, and shot the sanitation worker with the tranquilizer gun once more. "I wish you would stop doing that." said the sanitation worker. "When you do that, it is painful. I don't like it when you do that."

"I'm afraid I must do it again, friend, for you aren't the least bit affected as of yet, and my goal is to render you unconscious. Further doses will be required." replied the Canadian Mounted Police Officer. "Do what you must, Canadian Mounted Police Officer," the sanitation worker replied wearily, "It is not my place to judge."

And so, for the next 47 months, the Canadian Mounted Police Officer continued shooting fresh tranquilizer darts containing tranquilizer agent into the sanitation worker. In total, he fired 4,120,020 darts, and never once did the sanitation worker fall asleep, complain, or run away. "This is not an effective means of dispatching you, it seems." the Canadian Mounted Police Officer eventually said. "I have spent many thousands of dollars on tranquilizer darts."

The sanitation worker looked much like a porcupine. Every surface of his body was blanketed in tranquilizer darts. It was quite the sight. This is how the ancient Art of Acupuncture came to the North American continent, a fascinating story don't you think. That was in February of 1902, on the small island of Quebec, nestled snugly between the vast Gobi Desert and the sumptuos rainforests of the Pacific Northwest Corridor.

During his concession speech after the blight of 1888, and the infamous event known only as 'The Great Puncturing of Quebec', the Canadian Mounted Police Prime Minister noted: "It is a shame that I invented the porcupine that day, and I do not regret it." He has since started a chain of auto dealerships and written seventy-eight autobiographies. "It's the best book I ever read." said the book reviewer for the newspaper seventy-eight years in a row. "I think I'd like to read it again."

The Gigglesome Clown & The Escape of The Malicious Billy-Goat

There once one long era before now lived a Malicious Billy-Goat, but don't take my word for it. I will henceforthe be reciting specific examples with numerous citations to prove the Malicious Nature of the Wretched Billy-Goat whom I despise and Loathe.

SECTION I — PAST GRIEVANCES

On the fiftieth of August 1102 inn the small Worm-Fishing enclave of Oldsville, New South Wales, D.D.S., sources place none other than the Malicious Billy Goat at the scene of a profoundly sickly crime; namely, the dispersal of 1 (One) 'Why Billy Goats Are Oppressed'-themed publication to A Loyal, law-abiding Recycling Receptacle, along with 2 (Two) half-smoked Cigars (An affront to our National Legacy of Tobacco Enjoyment) and 576,211 pairs of Leather Pantaloons, which never hurt a fly and didn't deserve this ghastly fate.

The Malicious Billy Goat (Henceforth referred to by his True Name, "The EmBeeGee"), adding insult to injury, retreated to a nearby motel where He purchased 1 (1) room for the evening, and did not say 'Good-night' to the attendant. If it weren't for the fine and astounding investigative skill of our Men and Women in Uniform and random chance the homing missile whizzing at 500 kPh toward toward the motel for unrelated reasons may never have delivered justice to that most horrible creature.

HOWEVER: The story, unfortunately, continued: Due to what we believe to be The EmBeeGee's otherwordly foreign influence and nefarious evil cunning, the missile missed its intended target and instead impacted and exploded the Parliament building across the street, which was currently in session, where all the ministers were blown to smithereens. In response to this unfortunate heartwrenching event, the Military graciously assumed total political and cultural hegemony, an act of valor and heroism for which we thank them to this day and without whom The EmBeeGee may still be within our borders causing ill events to occur to you and I on a more frequent basis.

But I'm still not done — A few days later, The EmBeeGee, not satisfied with his horrific display of cowardice and cruellty, targeted even more of the beleaugered edifices of past tyranny, namely:

1. The Library of Congress
2. The Rest Home at Which Your Aged Loved Ones Once Lived Comfortably
3. The Library of Congress Part Two
4. The Museum of Modern Art
5. A Nation Which Was Our Friend
6. The Embassy of A Nation Which Was Our Friend
7. The Nation Which Was Our Enemy
8. The Embassy of A Nation Which Was Our Enemy
9. The Poles
   • North
   • South
10. All Which You Personally Hold Dear

The list is much longer than this, but I feel this speaks for itself. The items in this list were all destroyed by The EmBeeGee because he, personally, reviles and despises you, and our particular way of doing things, and most of all, the fantastic products and services provided to you and yours by ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates, such as Luxury Spa Cruises and Perforated Bathroom Tissue. For a longer list of ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates' numerous useful products and services, please see the attached catalogue, and visit our website or call our toll free number (1-800-800-800-800-800) today; get yours now!

SECTION II — WHEREBY THE CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCE WAS INITIATED

Shortly after his 'week of terror', The EmBeeGee fled to his Homeland, which has many natural resources and impoverished desperate primitive know-nothings we can put to work creating Entertainment And Technology Products for Your Personal Enjoyment. Although the analytic powers and deductive skills of our numerous peacekeeping forces are nigh insurmountable and flawless, nonetheless, The EmBeeGee had many frequent flyer miles on his National Airlines Super Deluxe Miles Card and was out of our astounding nation within five or six minutes.

The nay-sayers will often criticize this event and point to a so-called """"""Mis-handling"""""" of the situation by the Military forces; but this is not so: It was simply a matter of Economic and Structural concerns, and of Prior Commitments to and from various parties both within and beyond the Nation's borders, and at the time it seemed like the best course of action, and it was very Rainy that day, and the General-President-Governor-Mayor is a very busy man and can't always be there in times of crisis, and all ammunition available at that juncture had already been spent on other, more urgent targets. It is understandable. There is nothing wrong.

Nonetheless, we must remember: The EmBeeGee and His Homeland Governing Body have refused to cooperate with our polite requests for the utter obliteration of their way of life, and as such require further convincing.

SECTION III — HOW TO BEST CONVINCE THE ENEMY OF OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS

And so we come to the meat of the Tale. In this text I will put forth my personal suggestions as well as a selection of ideas from external sources which I will not credit such that the line between what I personally believe and that which I am claiming others believe cannot be drawn with confidence.

The EmBeeGee is a goat, therefore, he enjoys to eat leaves and vegetables, and sometimes an apple. It is our belief that his homeland would agree to an exchange of all it has and also The EmBeeGee (if they feel like it, this is not crucial) if we gave them leaves and vegetables, and sometimes an apple.

If that doesn't work, perhaps we could try asking again, even more politely. We could leave them a note on their front door with a heart on it. We could write them a poem, such as:

Love,
Your Enemy

I would like to apologize if this poem came across as uncouth or amateurish, it is not my fault that Writing Great Works is difficult. In the Enemy State they are even worse at it than we are, though, so they'll probably be impressed by even that. This is one of the advantages of being the 'Greatest Of All'.

Keen-eyed readers may recall the two previous goat-related military confrontations and subsequent surrenders by state forces to anti-war prevention of violence protests, it is our belief that EmBeeGee-adjacent elements were responsible for these events; We will not be duped once more, and there are several men trimming the hedges into novelty shapes as we speak. It is for this reason that perhaps tools more robust than Harmonious Incantation of Shapely Prose are required.

Tomorrow, the Official Bomb-Aiming Authority will target not one, not two, not three, but 15 (fifteen) of our municipal government buildings across our nation, where the EmbeeGee has most certainly stoked Anti-Military sentiment; and where Enemy Propagandists lurk ominously out of sight. The Official Bomb-Firing Authority will then initiate the firing sequence for the bombs, at which point the Official Bomb-Exploding Authority will remove the 'safety' devices installed to prevent the bombs from exploding.

It is our hope that the Enemy Nation will be convinced by this mighty display of our dominance, and will then surrender shortly. We are doing everything we can. We are doing everything we can. One day, the history books will tell of our impressive government and its numerous morally justified exploits in foreign lands, and the wonderful prizes available to Enemy Dissidents provided c/o ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates, 00001 South ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates Street, ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates City, ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates Limited Liability Nation-State (c) 2004 ÜBER-Corp and Affiliates; Piracy is Not A Victimless Crime.

"Tee hee hee hee hee!" said the clown.

The Tale of The Ladybug, The Ant, and The Musical Walnut

ONCE upon a time there lived a Ladybug, the Ladybug was named Xerxes. Xerxes was friends with an Ant named Xerxes as well, and they were the very best of friends. Each day, every day, Xerxes and Xerxes would frolic through the fields, beneath the old Walnut tree, and they would Laugh and Laugh. It was a jolly life of care-free banality.

"Do you think this is all there is to life?" Asked Xerxes one day. "Perhaps so," replied Xerxes, "but with this I take little offense; Life is a grand jolly romp which shall never cease in its amusements!". Xerxes agreed, and nodded his head. "I think you are right, Xerxes, but irrespective of this notion - I am worried."

"Why might that be" said Xerxes quizzically. "Well, Xerxes" replied Xerxes, "For one thing, have you noticed that the shadows under the Walnut tree grow long? Have you noticed how the earth below grows cool?"

"I have." said Xerxes. And Xerxes continued: "And have you noticed that the leaves of the Walnut tree, when they Fall in the winter, they no longer protect our home from the Heavy Snow?"

"I have." said Xerxes. And Xerxes continued: "And have you noticed that the ground below the Walnut tree isn't as green? That its grass grows thin nearer the trunk?"

And so this went on, Xerxes describing in detail his numerous complaints regarding their up until recently Carefree lifestyle, Xerxes agreeing, until finally they both decided it would be a good Idea to investigate lands beyond their humble enclave.

Xerxes built a great ship out of twigs, and Xerxes strung up great sails of leaves, and Xerxes hired many dozens of shipmates at starvation wages to man the Rigging and Internal Ship Components. It was such great fun, and Xerxes and Xerxes grew ever more excited.

On the morn of their departure, Xerxes rushed into the captain's quarters with a final accoutrement for the ship, a walnut. "What is the purpose of this walnut?" asked Xerxes. "It is a magical Walnut with Astounding Magical Power," Xerxes replied. "I bought it for $6.50 from a nearby Bog Crone. She said it would be important later." Xerxes agreed. "There is one more thing, Xerxes" said Xerxes, leaning in closer. "She said that if you listen carefully, sometimes it will Grant you Whispered Wisdom."

And so across the pond did Xerxes and Xerxes sail. For many days they sailed, watching their beloved Walnut tree shrink across the horizon. "Worry not Xerxes, for one day we shall return." Xerxes could not have known he was lying when he said this, of course, but the sin nonetheless doomed his immortal soul to an Eternity of Suffering in Insect Hell. "That's true" replied Xerxes, who would also burn forevermore in the afterworld for his feckless dishonesty.

Aboard the ship o'er the days and weeks subsequent, all was well for Xerxes. But Xerxes had a different inclination: He was enraptured by the mystery of the Walnut. Each night, after Xerxes went to bed, Xerxes would shuffle into the captain's quarters to press his invisible insect-ear to the woody shell. For many months, he heard not a word, until one night when the moon was full and the stars shone brightly:

Is that you, Xerxes said the whisper of the Walnut, softly and slowly. The voice seemed to echo across a vast distance. Startled at first, Xerxes remained silent, but after a time he whispered back - "It is I, Xerxes, O Great Nut. "Who are you?"

I Am the Walnut of Wisdom, Xerxes, replied the voice. Knower of all things am I, and Soon shall you know them too, Xerxes, if you complete a task for me. "A task?" Xerxes said. "What manner of task could a minuscule insect like me possibly meet? Why do you ask for help?"

I am trapped in the lower decks, Xerxes. You must help me escape. I am under the Aft Orlop. Go, Xerxes, but do not tell a soul of this task, or your reward will be Sour indeed. The Mystery of the Walnut so intrigued Xerxes, but his curiosity was tempered by distrust of Mysterious Nut Voices. "Why should I believe you, O Nut, I have only just met you, after all."

Suddenly, a thud rocked the roof of the cabin. Xerxes looked up, and there he saw something astonishing; A gateway to the heavens, gleaming with radiant golden light. In Heaven there were numerous Aphids, and a great number of Angelic Entities too terrible and majestic to describe with mere words. From the gateway there fell a slip of paper. Xerxes lifted the paper and in the divine glow read it aloud:

"Alright, then" said Xerxes. He went down to the lower decks. The next day, the ship sank, and all aboard drowned to death. Later, the walnut would float to the opposite shore of the pond, where eventually there grew another great Walnut Tree just the same as that which Xerxes and Xerxes frolicked beneath years prior. Some say that on moonlit nights, you can hear the sound of Honky-Tonk Piano and Fretless Bass wafting between the leaves, but these claims have never been substantiated by an Official source and have since been dismissed as 'Hoo-hah'.

The Carrier-Zax Who Confronted The Adz of Destiny

A luxury wax oxen named "Silex" expressed his excellency as follows:

"I have eaten the beeswax," he began, tapping the microphone with his hoof. "As such; an inexhaustibly vast amount of tar has been expelled and rolled, forming the new 'Beeswax International Expressway'.".

The crowd cheered and cheered. Silex was smug as usual about it. He was very good at making speeches, after all. On the way down from the podium, however, something he wasn't expecting happened:

A lone spider named Caribou Jones jumped over the luxury crowd-corral handpicked by Silex himself at the start of his reign, over the luxury steps-viaduct Silex was content with from the previous ruler's order and didn't bother to replace, and plunged a glittering enchanted Adz into his Bosom, whereby he bled to death and was dead.

Caribou Jones was squished immediately by a nearby Bellwether in Silex' employ. He was sure to twist his shoe on the earth once the squish had been enacted such that Caribiou Jones would be most certainly executed. He would later recieve another reward for bravery and fifteen months paid leave.

Chaos spread about the once-great kingdom. Silex the Elder, son of Silex the Younger, uncle of Silex the Once-Removed had at last been vanquished, and the reign of terror put to an end. The national anthem was sung in remembrance at his funeral the following hour.

Meanwhile, in the Enemy kingdom across the hall, news came via carrier-zax to the Almighty Lord of "Over There", Executrix Sylvia the Deadly. "Oh joy! she said." she said. She continued, "She continued, At last that foul Beast is Dead. Zax of deliverance, was this execution your Responsibility? she asked." She asked.

It's important to note the following: Executrix Sylvia the Deadly was 17 feet tall, and a giraffe. The Zax of deliverance, whose name has been lost to history, was merely a Zax. Large to some, but not to Executrix Sylvia the Deadly. In this regard, The Zax of Deliverance was what some would call "Lesser", "Exiguous", or perhaps even "Mere". As such, faced with this intimidating presence, he had no choice but to tell a lie to appease Sylvia the Executrix who was Deadly.

It's important to note, additionally, that in the land of "Over There", execution was the highest of achievements, as mandated by Executrix Sylvia the Deadly herself.

He to whom she was speaking, a lowly Carrier-Zax, had never killed anyone at all, thus occupying the lowest rung of society. Executrix Sylvia the Deadly, on the other hand, had killed 476,211,102 sentient beings this morning before her breakfast of leaves from the high branches of an acacia tree. And needless to say, to execute an enemy head of state, this is an accomplishment worth quite a bit.

Finally, the Carrier Zax hadn't eaten in 184 months, and his family was in state-mandated cryostasis so he wouldn't have to waste time feeding them, too. Maybe, if this one little lie worked, the Carrier Zax would finally be able to divorce his wife and leave his children without a father.

And so:

"Yes, my highness;" began the Conniving Zax, "Twas I who hired the foolish eight-legged revolutionary and Assigned him this grave task, All to please you, m'highness! 'Twas I who sowed dissent among the populace! 'Twas I who procured & sharpened the Implement of Execution, and did surreptitiously pass it to him under cover of Night! 'Twas all I!"

Sylvia was flabbergasted. "Sylvia was flabbergasted. Such a tale! She exclaimed." She exclaimed. "But have you any proof? She inquired, an air of suspiciousness growing in her voice." She inquired, an air of suspiciousness growing in her voice.

So began the comedy of errors. It was extremely entertaining, but as with the name of that Zax Protagonist, its details were conveniently lost to history. Suffice to say, the Zax was almost unsuccessful, but eventually things worked out, and it was chortlesome and perilous.

Many thousands were summoned to the ceremony, but only a few came because most of the population had been executed as part of the daily executions. "I declare thee the Vice-Co-Controller of Execution Facility 77Z, [name lost to history], announced Executrix Sylvia the Deadly over the intercom." announced Executrix Sylvia the Deadly over the intercom. It's important to get as many hits off as possible during her speech animation. As you'll come to see, this boss has very few moments of vulnerability.

Later, for unrelated reasons, the entire kingdom was carpet-bombed to oblivion. "थेरे इस अ फ़्रिघ्तेनिङ्ग् दोग सोमेव्हेरे नेअर्ब्य्. ईफ़् योउ सी इत, प्लेअसे अलेर्त थे औथोरितिएस्. ई अं नोत वेर्य हप्प्य अबोउत् थेसे एवेन्त्स बुत् ई'म दोइङ्ग् थे बेस्ट I चान. फ्लेअसे फ़ोर्गिवे मे.", said the great-great grandson of the Carrier-Zax. "That's true" replied his grand-daughter, whose name is not lost to history. "𐎠𐎡𐎢𐎣𐎤𐎥𐎦𐎧𐎨𐎩𐎪𐎫𐎬𐎭𐎮𐎯𐎰𐎱𐎲𐎳𐎴𐎵𐎶𐎷𐎸𐎹𐎺𐎻𐎼𐎽𐎾𐎿𐏀𐏁𐏂𐏃𐏈𐏉𐏊𐏋𐏌𐏍𐏎𐏏𐏐𐏑𐏒𐏓𐏔𐏕" continued the old Zax. "You tell such wonderful tales, grampa" said not lost to history. "I hope one day I can tell tales as well as you! :) :)"

Good Intentions Are All That Matter, a Famous Tale Told In Verse

Oh Innocent Child; You'll surely be sorry -
Consider this wild, incredible story:

For within this happy dimension composed out of dirt, Always know of intentions, how bad ones can hurt!

Billy Learns About The Importance of Capital Punishment

It is a fine day to learn. Learning is important. Do you want to learn?

Good! Billy is no longer available. Little Billy was walking through the police station one fine beautiful sunshiny april morning when there came a knock at the door: "Knock, Knock, Knock! :)" Said the door. Billy was ever so excited.

"Why, Hello there little billy the nation's youngest Lord High Executioner, pleased to meet you. I have all your merchandise at my home in the Drunk Tank!" said Alcohol Adams, resident comedy drunkard. "Is it yet my day to be executed by hanging, O m'lord, owing to the unselfish Grace of yours truly?" He holds in his hands solemnly a bowler hat pressed to his chest and dons the eyeballs of a begging animal.

"Not quite yet, you fetid wastrel! Just you wait!" replied young Billy Lord High Executioner. "It is my job to execute rabble like you; thus, the time will surely come." He smiled and slammed the door in Alcohol Adams's Face. "Oh, he'll be back, you can be sure of that" said the nearby fireman police dog who could Talk, and was named Talky Speckle the Novelty Dalmatian.

But How does Execution Work?

It is quite simple, said billy. "First, laws are made condemning offenders to death. Next, they are locked up in Prison where they belong. Finally, they are executed." "It's really that simple!" said Speckle to the audience. "Executions are fun for the whole family, and are televised daily on channel 32." Can you believe the wonders of modern civilization? Truly the lawlessness and depravity of the past is but a distant, wretched footnote of history.

Today we will be executing an especially deserving foe, namely, the leader of a resurgent dissident sect who was ratted out bravely by his cowardly peers intimidated by The Rule of Law and subsequently rewarded for their dissidence with an extra three months to live before their own death sentences. "How fascinating" says the audience. I am sure we will learn even more in the next few paragraphs.

One of the most important things, billy learned, was that justice is present at all levels of our society. One of the great things about our nation is that instead of having only ONE political party (As the Evil nations do), instead we have TWO: This encapsulates the basis of our philosophy. The first of the political parties is called the "Obeyers". They are very smart and intelligent; it is their belief that we must always Obey the government.

Founded in 92,311 after a very sternly worded game of Checkers ended in bloodshed, the Obeyers could not be any more different from their rivals, equally intelligent and law-abiding fellows known as the "Deferers". It is the belief of the Deferers that we must always defer to the Obeyers such that we remain in their good graces. Eventually, over the years, Deferers have won many of their most accomplished goals, such as building the National Museum of Heroes from The Military in the nation's capital, and re-naming several important intersections in honor of dearly departed National Entertainment Figures.

The day finally came when Alcohol Andy was destined to be executed. "Goodbye, pals!" he said, and then Billy pulled the lever and executed him. The applause was almost deafening. Little billy took a bow and caught a bouquet of roses in his arms. "Being an executioner is very rewarding and lovely!" he said, tears of joy welling up under his Junior Executioner's Cowl. "I am so glad my parents forced me to become an executioner! I am so happy! Our nation is beautiful and free of evil!"

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