The King's Standard

At eleven in the evening, the King of the world decided to call a meeting. Everyone was ordered to come to the castle and wait on his majesty's pleasure. The governments of the world each sent a delegation of representatives including their top executives. Whether these happened to be prime ministers, presidents, dukes, or dictators did not matter, all were subservient to his majesty, naturally.

"I have an announcement," said the King of the World. His councillors and advisors had not been warned of this developement and were quietly discussing options with the Generals.
"I banish all months, fish and people with an S in their names from the country for ever."

The room might have erupted in roars of opposition but the King's own name began with the letter S and had several more sprinkled throughout like so many caraway seeds on a moist steamed bun.

"You bore me, you see," said the King with a tone of finality when everyone had been bracing themselves for another of his long winded speeches.

Then he could have leapt from the throne on which he had sat for so long and for which, in return, such little gratitude had been given and he could have run screaming or maniacally laughing from the throne room. Or, he could have produced a sword seemingly out of nowhere which he had cunningly concealed in his robes and slashed a chandelier rope and risen up out of the throne room to a waiting window like some swashbuckling hero of the silver screen's golden age.

"Just kidding," he said, "I've decided to declare War against our enemies neighbouring our southern border.

Everyone expelled a sigh of relief. The Generals put down their phones, the advisors sheathed their pens, the councillors returned emergency briefs to emergency briefcases.

Contentment reigned.