Order and Chaos

TWO GEARS

Milton dismounted his albino camel before my cavemouth and threw his cape in with a flourish. The gusts picked it up and flew it back into his face, where he kept it.

"Video!" he hollered, voice muffled by capecloth. "I have come to commission from you a grand game. I am Prince Milton Vindictus, a huge fan of your work."

"Excellent!" I said, crawling out of my sleephole. "I have just the concept for a solo game what's board takes up acres... I will finally prove to all that Video games are art."

"The Citizen Kane of Video games!" said Milton.

"What's Citizen Kane?"

"I don't know!" said Milton. "What is this grand concept?"

"It is called A Tale Of Two Gears," I said.

"Remaining in your wheelhouse, I see. Or is that GEARHOUSE?"

I was obliged to laugh. Then, to bullshit. "In this case, the gears are metaphorical. It refers to the gears of history, always churning and meshing in unpredictable ways." Milton nodded. Now came the expensive part. "Nearby your castle I shall build a replica reflection of Castle Vendet, absolutely identical in every way. I shall scour the world for spot-on lookalikes for the people in Castle Vendet, besides yourself, who will act out my brilliant script until the boundaries between the game and real life make your head spin."

"Just like a gear," Milton nodded.

"Just, like, a, gear," I said.

[18:34:08] <Agenonthego> I want our pizza ruler to marry Elsa
[18:34:29] <Agenonthego> Then we can have frozen pizza princes and princesses

"Can you work pizza into it though?" Milton asked.

"What? That'll ruin the illusion!"

"I know, but I really like pizza. Can you make it, like, Candyland, but with pizza?"

I grumbled. "It'll cost extra."

"Done."

And that's the story of how there came to be an exact duplicate of Castle Vendet where everybody wore hats made to look like pizza.

---

So, you're Commun Marx, and once again Mary Vindictus has been so inconsiderate as to go barreling ahead in the plot without you. This one cat, possibly the same cat from earlier that set the Queen off on a fit but probably not, comes up and starts mewling and pawing at her fresh grave as soon as Nothing leaves.

You sigh, fetch a shovel, and get to work. It's hard work and the cat doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. You appreciate the company enough that at some point during that long night of digging, you actually start talking to it. What do you say?