King of the Road

“You see that guy over there. The one with the bowler hat, and that shirt with Buggs Bunny and Porky Pig on it. He says he a King from someplace. Wouldn’t say where. Do you think he looks like a King. He don’t look like one to me.”

“You had too much to drink. Everyone should look like a King to you. You ask him his name, where he’s from, ask him anything?”

“He don’t say much. I talked to him for quite a while, then I realized I was basically talking to myself. Then he says right out of the blue, “I’m a King.” What can you say to that? So I go on to explain to him that Kings don’t go to parties where the beer is warm, and they buy the wine by the gallon. Don’t seem like the kind of King that would be hanging out with the likes of us.”

“The likes of us? What do you mean, the likes of us?”

“Don’t get all tied up over this. I’m going home, need a ride?”

“No, you go on, I’ll get a ride from the King if I can’t get a cab. Sure he’s got a carriage or a Rolls parked down the alley someplace. Don’t’ worry about me, I’ll be doing just fine.”

He just sits there this King guy. He’s got this derby type hat on, with what looks to be a piece of a peacock feather sticking out of the band. He’s got on a suit like coat, but it’s got velveteen lapels, and his pants they look too big for him. He’s sitting down so I can’t really tell how tall he is. Maybe he’s just got short legs. Looks like one of those rock band guys from back when I could understand the words. 

I should go introduce myself. He looks kind of lonely sitting there by himself. I don’t usually talk to strange people, had a problem with that once, where this guy must have thought I was his type because he kept eyeing me all night, and then he followed me home. When I went out in the morning he was still there. He’d slept in the side yard by the fence. Still sleeping when the constables showed up.

This guy doesn’t seem like he’d have enough energy to follow me to the door, let alone home. He keeps staring at the candle on the table like he’s thinking about something. He smiles once in a while, but that’s about it. I finally decided to go see what he was all about. I’ve met some nice people who were shy. They got a lot of stories to tell that unless you were shy, you’d never guess at. 

So I go over and introduce myself, “Hey,” I say. He’s still just sitting with his eyes on the candle flame, his hands draped over his knees. As I go to sit down, he lifts the little finger on his left hand. There is the prettiest ruby ring on it. I didn’t know if it was some kind of signal, so I didn’t do anything. I just sat next to him and thought I’d wait and see if he said anything. 

I sat there drinking this wine, I hope it was wine, out of this paper cup, waiting for him to say something. It was like he was in a trance of some kind, and I didn’t want to bust up a trance. I did that once at a séance, and everyone got mad. I’ve been careful about stuff like that ever since.

I was getting bored, the wine tasted funny, and people were leaving. For all I knew he lived there. I got invited but didn’t know anyone really. I didn’t have much to do so thought, might as well see what it’s all about. 

As I go to get up he says, “Stay,” like I was a dog or something. It surprised me, and I kind of fell back onto the lounge thing we were sitting on. He kept staring at the candle, and just as I was getting up to leave again, he says “I’m Henry the Eighth, I am.” Well I’d heard that line before, but not in along time. He looked way too young to be one of those Hermit fellas, but then in the candle light it’s hard to tell.

I tell him my name is Ruby, and he raises his little finger again. Nothing happened the last time, so I thought maybe that’s how they shake hands where he’s from, So I take my little finger, hook it in his, and give it a couple of pumps. He keeps looking at the candle saying nothing, but just as I was about to try my escape again he says, “that ain’t how it’s done.”

What can you say to something like that. I didn’t know if I was supposed to ask him how to do it then, but that seemed a bit forward being we just met.  So I said, “Sorry,” and I meant it. It didn’t seem to phase him any as he stands up like the lounge cushion was on fire, bows to me, and asks “Would you care to dance?”

There wasn’t any music, but he looked persistent. So I thought, well maybe I can get a better chance of running off If I’m on my feet. Kind of move us toward the door. But we ain’t doing the new kind of dancing. It looks like to me from the way he was moving, like there should have been a lot more people lined up. We were I guessed, from what I remembered from some of the old movies where I’d seen about stuff like that, supposed to skip down the imaginary line holding hands, and then bow to each other and watch the other people who I couldn’t see skip down the line, and then we’d cross over, and arm in arm we’d twirl around.

I was most surprised when he started twirling me like a top. I was getting dizzy, felt like fallen down at first. The more I got dizzy, the faster he twirled. Next thing I know we’re in this fancy hall with this angel painted ceiling and a table as long as my apartment, but a bit less cluttered. The table is full of all kinds of food, jugs of something, couldn’t tell what. Up front by these throne looking chairs, were some guys with wigs on playing violins; one a piano. Music sounded French, which I thought was strange being this guy seemed more English than French. Talked like it anyway. Don’t even know how I knew that.

He then takes my hand and leads me up to the front of this great room, and then escorts me to this throne chair, and then he says, “will there be anything else, my Lady.” I didn’t know he was talking to me, so I’m looking around behind me, and over at the arched doorways where all these halls kind of disappear like roads going into a tunnel.

I was starting, I’d have to admit, to worrying about whether my mind was starting to slip. It had happened before, but not for several days. I didn’t know what to say, so I just bowed and smiled. Somehow I knew that is what you do, when you don’t know what you are doing. Then he says, “I’m turning in, see you in the morning,” and leaves. Not just leaves, but disappears, like puff and he’s gone. 

I was getting worried and thought I’d better follow this guy, but I didn’t know where to go, so I picked a hall and started down it. They had these torch things every so often, so I could see better than I could with just the candle at the party. The hall was lined with these paintings. Some old men, some old women, some younger women, that I kind of felt I knew from someplace. Had that feeling I get once in a while when I meet someone, and just know I’d met them before. When I ask, they always tell me it couldn’t be. But they never say why it couldn’t be, so my day gets messed up wondering where I’d met them before.

When I get to the end of the hall there is a picture of the guy I’d been dancing with. He’s sitting on that throne chair in the big hall, with a little girl on his lap.

I look closely at the little girl; it looks like me. I’d seen that picture before.

“Miss, do you need any help getting ready? The car will be here shortly to take you to the coronation.”

“What? Where?”