Hollow's Eve

The photo here is most humiliating, but I assure you there is a tale behind it. I know that I vowed I would speak no more on the subject, but today’s events have forced me to recount the unimaginable. In fact I find it very befitting since today is the day of Hollow’s Eve (which of course is an extremely pagan celebration in which I would never partake.) On such a day in year’s past, I recall during my reign in Miamishire that the common folk did some of the most barbaric acts by parading about the town in rather nonsensical dress. I suspect this is why the majordomo has several capes and an eye patch (to which I have referred earlier), but as a member of my court he must never admit to such overt displays of heathenism Oddly enough, here in my newfound land, the day is not even honored by the people. Rather they celebrate El Día de los Muertos, or our equivalent of All Saints Day, which is the subsequent night when families crowd the cemeteries to sleep next to the graves of their deceased beloved--a bit macabre for my tastes, but I digress.

Midday here had been particularly dreary, and I decided to retire to my chambers to take afternoon tea. All was unusually quiet (Burgeoning must have slipped into some post-dining coma), and then suddenly in mid sip, I heard a large thunderous clap overhead. My vision became cloudy, and I could only distinguish shapeless phantom-like figures creep under the door. The next thing I recalled, I was being whisked out of my room, up the narrow staircase and into the dreaded tower. And there it was. The long knobby arms of the bogeyman, my nemesis, had come alive, and in his hands was a lone hardened mango. Oh how he mocks my rule!

What followed I have no idea. I imagine several hours had transpired. The next thing I remember, I came into consciousness surrounded by my court. When I looked down at my paws, not only did I find the fibers of a stripped mango, but I had been dressed in this absurd costume. I suspect a couple members of the court carried their traditions from Hollow’s Eve into my new kingdom, and they thought they would have a bit of fun at my expense. The jester had a culpable smirk of self-amusement across his face (I must remember to send him to the block for solitary confinement). Looking back on what happened, I think it is odd that the devil had spawned one fruit out of season, but I now realize that my enemies will present themselves at any time of the year. If you look closely at the photograph, you can see the haunting orange glow of the mango in my pupils.

Downward Facing

I have discovered in my new kingdom that the key to maintaining control is through self-discipline and meditation. It takes an incredible amount of concentration to block out the mango bogeyman, Burgeoning's endless banter, and the jester's pathetic attempt at humour (however, I must admit his falling down the stairs was quite comical, though probably not intended).

Evidently I am a regal being. I have never been superstitious and would never practise witchcraft. However, Burgeoning insisted that the possession of the mango tree was an unwanted evil hovering about the palace, and the members of my court felt it necessary to take heed her to beckoning. Thus, a local shaman was summoned to the estate to exorcise the tree, despite my objections to such devil worship.

The shaman was an odd, bony fellow whose breath reeked of overripened blackened plantains. And as it turned out, since the mango was not bearing fruit at the time, there was nothing to exorcise. But the shaman did teach me some meditation exercises that he felt would benefit the mental acuity of his new king. I was skeptical at first of this pagan art, but he named a technique "downward facing dog" after me, and as not to offend him I practise this daily as to assist in maintaining the order of my kingdom (see photo).

Burgeoning

I find the servants here at the palace are a bit unskilled (I dare say even clumsy), but they were already employed by the estate when I arrived, so I just will have to make do. Usually I tend not to notice the help, as they should always be invisible to me (which is how I prefer it). But there is one in particular who stands out, and not, mind you, for her extreme talents.

She is a plump, jolly woman of sorts. From what I have been able to decipher, her name is “Burgeoning,” which is an odd name but I figure it suits her if one is referring to her ever-expanding britches. She talks rather manically and her attempt at song is as irritating as the shrill squeal of the neighborhood cats. But Burgeoning seems to have a good heart. Sometimes she feeds me, brings me water and even scratches my head when feeling rather emboldened on the days she gets paid her pithy allowance of shillings. I amaze myself that I have allowed her to touch me, but the tropical heat has a rather strange effect on one’s senses, so every so often I will succumb to a good rub on the scalp. When I prefer not to be bothered, I will don a pair of darkened spectacles to ward off her nonsensical advances. But spectacles or not, the servants know full well not to make eye contact with their king.

Nothing Further

For now the season seems to be over. Every once in awhile my eye will catch a glimpse of a dessicated mango carcass in the tower, or a bird will spit out the last pieces of flesh of a fruit that never ripened. My heart pounds a bit faster, and my tail will wag instinctively. But I have managed to keep my wits about me. I fear, however, that as soon as the tree starts to blossom, it will become possessed once again by the bogeyman. And when its gnarled arms stretch out over my head and are weighed down by hundreds and hundreds of the jeweled fruit, the delirium will set in once again. Until then, I have a kingdom to reign. I have vowed to myself and to my new country that I will not allow the mango madness to be my demise, as was syphilis to Henry VIII. So now that I have shared this with you, I will try to say nothing further on the subject.

The Bogeyman

The air was eerily still, and the sky was darkening as the sun had just set. The members of my court had retired to their chambers, supposedly taking a respite from their daily activities (which never appear to me to look very strenuous, but I digress.) I was napping on the cool tile when a sudden chill ran up my spine. I thought it odd that my fur was standing on end as there was not even the faintest breeze. But I was aroused from my slumber, and so I slowly felt compelled to climb the staircase without any rhyme or reason.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the upstairs landing of the south wing, but I was intrigued by a strange scent that led me down a hallway and to a spiral staircase. I had never ventured up into the tower, but the odour grew even more intense and I could not resist it. I followed the treacherous steps up into the tower that, oddly enough, is exposed to the outdoors. And there it was-- the giant mango tree blossoming over my head, filled with the malevolent fruit. I could feel my pupils dilate and my tail began to wag uncontrollably. I could practically hear the serpent whispering to me to have my fill without abandon.

The sky grew darker and my body went cold. After that, I must have lost consciousness. The next thing I remember was the watchman grabbing me by my collar and forcing me inside. I was completely drenched. It must have begun to rain, but I was too enraptured by my juicy rose-colored opiate that I did not even notice. Dazed, I stumbled down the stairs and was ashamed to find the members of my court staring at me in disbelief. I was whisked away in a towel, and it was not until several hours afterwards that I understood I had had my first encounter with the leafy bogeyman.

Mango Madness

First, I must apologize for my lengthy absence. The jester and majordomo both left me for five grueling days to fend for myself, and a king without his complete court can be rather daunting. Do not ask why the jester is essential to my existence here in my adopted country, but I can only suppose that his drollness is entertaining enough to quicken the pace of the heated dog days of summer (pun intended). Or is it summer? It seems I have lost track of the seasons, and now that I think about it, I do not think I have seen a change in the seasons since I arrived 10 months ago. Though the heat sticks to me daily like a thick molasses, I have noticed the rain has intensified quite a bit over the past few weeks. Ah, the torrential rains...which actually brings me to my story of my mango madness.

It is rather embarrassing, but the giant mango tree that hangs over my palace all day long is rather taunting. Its fruit is my elixir, my spirit, my absinthe. It has a unique mystical power that seems to take away all my senses and reason. Neither the apple nor the pear ever had this effect on me, and I used to mock the avocado for days on end. But I fear this mango fruit could be the bane of my empire.

Madness

Despite my loathing of the Abbess, the townspeople do not seem to bother me for the most part, as long as they stay outside the palace gate. I find myself most comfortable inside the confines of my estate. The midday tropical heat out on the street can be unbearable, and I've discovered if I lay on the tiles under the shade of the mango with my belly in the air, I can allow the breeze from the lake to cool my royal bones. This could be, however, how I got the current garrapata infestation that seems to have reached its peak in the past few days (hence, my absence from blogging).

I try not to succumb to the madness because I refuse to show any signs of weakness in front of my court. Though I have realized there is a fine line between madness and inebriation as there are certain vices that I've developed in my new kingdom, one being gluttony, particulary for that sinful tantalizing fruit of the mango. It is a drug that can overpower me, and if I were not so lightheaded from the day before, I would relay the details of an unfortunate incident. But I must wait until later...

Into Town

I learned my fleet needed to be even larger than I had expected. The village where my new estate lies is not only a day’s carriage ride to the Pacific Ocean, but it is also situated on a large freshwater lake ("The Sweet Sea") that runs more than 100 miles long, and eventually connects to the Caribbean Sea. Evidently this makes my kingdom vulnerable to pirates, which has made me even more distrustful of the majordomo who at times likes to don an eye patch and a cape.

To get a better of lay of the land, one morning shortly after my arrival I beckoned some members of my court to take me into the quaint and colorful town. Though I fought against the idea, they strapped me into a harness so as to blend in with the village people and not to arouse suspicion. We were quite a motley bunch, and if it had not been for our pathetic attempt at disguise, I would have traveled about in a stately carriage and in proper dress.

Immediately I was struck with the number of churches around town which contradicted my previous notion that I was reigning a land of pagans. Here in the photo above I am standing outside the nunnery (in my shameful bondage) with the jester, the maiden, the lady-in-waiting (who did not last long under my employment) and the master of the hunt. Of course the Abbess of the convent refused to attend to us, most likely because of my harness and the horrid dress of my party. This unfortunate event reminds me that I must look into the state of capital punishment here in this land because I will have her head the next time she denies me. I did, however, address the matter with the Bishop who implored me not to be mindful of the Abbess who is a miserable cat-loving hag.