Three trumpeters stand forth and blow, trying to sound regal…but they are, after all, Swamp People and it's kinda' pathetic. The Herald walks forward with arrogant steps. His words will be the words o the King! He unscrolls a scroll, and the crowd falls silent. He reads.
“The King of the Swamp People commands that the rotting corpse of Kenneth Lay be brought before his throne.”
The Herald clears his throat, and continues.
"Time may have forgotten that scoundrel of the highest order, but the King of the Swamp People has not. So in order that those of his subjects do not forget that Kenneth Lay died in his mansion in Colorado, instead of in a jail cell fifty years from now, the King will display the corpse of Mister Lay in a 4x5 metal cage, until the day that all flesh is stripped from his body by the animals or elements, and from that moment, another five years. After that, Mister Lay will be free to be buried in a place of his choosing."
The man…or woman who accomplishes this task shall be deemed “Hero of the Swamp People, Upholder of the King’s Decrees, and promptly satisfied sexually in whichever way they see fit for a period of 40 days.”
The Herald scrolls back his scroll, spins on his feet, and walks away.
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