Order and Chaos

you're milton

"Why don't we ask Milton to pick between Milton and Mary?" said the Duke of Ledmit.

The ever-aspirational Duchess of Duke, age 85, voice shrill but weak, piped up, having stabbed the Duke of Ledmit to death: "He'll just vote for himself, fool! Thank you." She accepted and chugged the chalice full of wine from the Doge of Trevsahl, which, unbeknownst to her, was poisoned.

"Well, no," said Lady Germaldine, "Milton is a playboy layabout. A playabout. He's surely chewed all our ears off with his stories of reveling in his lack of responsibility, and —" She was interrupted by the Grand Piano of Damocles dropping on her head.

The new Duke of Ledmit breathed into his hands, to cool the ropeburn. "We can't trust a playabout when the queen's gone murder crazy! I think the best solution is to make sure the court has an odd number of members when we take the vote. I've got just the medicine," he said, using the rope to lift the grand piano back up into the air, then stepping into the noose he had fashioned out of the end piece.

The Doge of Trevsahl, who had been hovering behind the Duke of Ledmit with a garrote improvised from the piano wire, stumbled forward eye-first into a shard of glass readied by his immediate successor when the Duke raced up into the air, breaking his neck. (And this time, the shard DID get into the brainhole.) The new Doge of Trevsahl unwrapped their handkerchief from the shard of glass and placed it back in their pocket. "I didn't have anything to say, that was just good luck while I was polishing my shard of glass."

The court, driven to rage by his apathy, dug up some of the bricks that made up the castle floors and walls and stoned him to death. One Lord Pablo Montoya spoke up above the fray: "People, regardless of who we pick, we need to organize a search effort for the princess Mary Lee Invictus!"

"Why not one for Mary Lee VINDICTUS too while we're at it? Numbnuts!" said the Duke of Hiwenge. The court erupted into a fit of effete tittering. The Duke of Hiwenge's razor-sharp tongue had slit One Lord Pablo Montoya's throat, and he bled to death atop the pile of rubble covering the old new Doge of Trevsahl. Unfortunately, the Duke of Hiwenge accidentally cut open his own esophagus with that same tongue and met the same fate.

"We need an outside tiebreaker to decide on an outside tiebreaker!" shouted the Duchess of Groken, before a raging bull gored her through from behind.

Two Lord Pablo Montoya waved his red cape around, redirecting the bull head-first into a wall, where it stubbornly bludgeoned itself to death. The Duchess of Remilt followed. She was very dumb. "I agree. But who?!"

A pregnant silence settled in. Everyone was pointing a loaded gun at everyone else.

Everyone turned to the gigantic double-doors of the court as they slowly, but loudly, creaked open. This was it. They could all tell they were witnessing the dilation of the cervix of the pregnant silence.

Official Cat of the Royal Family.

Naturally, you pick the one who's still aroudn to feed you

Though the court doors came none other than the Royal Cat Milton (no relation), strutting along flanked by two be-platemail'd knights acting as bodyguard, his metaphorical placenta.

"Meow," said the Royal Cat. All knelt.

Very soon, the court sketch artist had fashioned crude Milton and Mary scarecrows out of the rubble and bits of One Lord Pablo Montoya. Two Lord Pablo Montoya, who was acknowledged by all to have the best touch with animals, placed Milton (no relation) between the two and let it pick.

Milton (no relation) instead, left the court entirely, and all followed him, uncomfortably crouching in deference. He wound his way through the castle corridors, through the hedge maze and up and down stairs for hours. Finally though, he came to the hallway housing the rooms of both the Prince and Princess.

He mewled and scraped on the other Milton's door. Big Milton opened his door, two scantily-dressed ladies on either of his arms. Nobody could see in his room, due to the copious amounts of smoke. They could hear at least 6 drummers pounding away on their instruments in his room, though.

"Hey buddy," said Big Milton bending over and picking up Little Milton by the scruff and rubbing his belly like he liked. "Is it feeding time already?" The Royal Cat purred. Big Milton frowned and turned to his lady companions: "Wait back in my room, I'll be back soon and we can finish with that crossword puzzle."

"I'm still mad — what kind of word is 'syzygy'?!" said one of the ladies

"I know, I know!" Milton said, and closed the door. He went to the window at the end of the hallway, cat in tow. "Feeding time!" he hollered and tossed Little Milton out to the mermaids in the moat. He turned around, and saw the entire court bowing. "Oh," he said. "Why are you here?"

"We needed the cat to select one of the royal heirs so that you could make a decision about the queen," explained the Duchess of Qumalt, nervously.

"So..." said Milton, "it WASN'T feeding time? Oh shit!" Milton disrobed of the platemail covering his forearms and shins and dived out of the window into the moat.

How was Milton Wolfgang Vindictus going to save Milton (no relation) the royal cat from the clutches of the moat mermaids?