Today in Butlr we examine the life of King Johnson P. Malone again. This time we catch him on tax day. He collects his dues from the other lords and millionaires of Butlr and even obtains a hot air balloon ship along the way . . . .
Well it was that time of year again– yes, tax day. I woke up bright and early and rolled out of my gold-laced bed. Butlr Bot brought up some fried eggs, roast duck, creamed spinach, and a Bellini champagne for breakfast. I looked in the mirror as Butlr Bot dressed me. “It’s tax day, my good sir,” he said as he carefully laid my crown on my head. I replied, “It’s good to be king, Butlr.”
My chauffeur drove me slowly through the town in my convertible Bugatti Veyron. Crowds flanked us on either side as we made our way through the town. The first person we were to call on was Duke Moly. We came outside the gates of his house. His private security force quickly recognized me and opened the solid gold gates for our car. Duke Moly was outside waiting for us. He seemed nervous.
He yelled out, “King Malone, how do you do? I–“
“Where’s the money, Duke Moly? I want my taxes!”
He seemed embarrassed and after a little encounter he admitted that he had collected taxes for his land but did not have them for me. Why not you may ask? Well, he told me he had spent them all to buy a giant hot air balloon ship. He was actually millions of dollars into debt. I am a fair and understanding king and we came to a compromise. I left Duke Moly’s estate comfortably seated in my new hot air balloon ship as my chauffeur piloted in the direction of the Oshida estate.
Now, Marquis Oshida is an odd breed of lord. His estate is characterized by the large herds of Big Game animals he has roaming it and the various celebrities that frequent it. When I arrived, Marquis Oshida was in a large Crane operating a wrecking ball, destroying a house. He had bought the small house and had it flown over to his estate. We brought the air balloon ship down, paying special attention as to dodge the swinging wrecking ball.
“Marquis Oshida! You know what time of year it is don’t you?” I yelled.
He got out of his crane, taking off his safety goggles and hardhat and looked at me.
“Yes, yes, my good king. I was especially harsh and exact in collecting my taxes this year from the peasants and lower aristocracy. Here is what I owe you . . . Now do you want that in gold bars or shillings?”
I left that day with fat pockets. What will I do with the money? Well I’ve taken a particular liking to opera recently, maybe I will build an opera house . . . .
Yes, life as King is good.
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