King Isaav's bladder leapt into his throat. "Oh! The juggling act has gone horribly wrong."
Gripping Isaav's arm was the hooded Carrier of the Cabbage. "Yes, sire, it, uhm-it would appear that way."
Both kept watch as the remains of the actor just kept tumbling in different directions down the hill.
"I mean, just look at-oh, and everybody can see. Nobody's ready to see a fool's blood spilling. Are they looking, Carrie?"
Turning inside his heavy hood, the Carrier could see commotion rabble-rising among the King's men. "Yes sire, it appears so."
"God, it's just… the opposite of what you want to happen, right? Can't be good, can it?"
"Sire, although the mystic fruit flies did predict dominant battlefield performance, there are these obfuscating frogs of war which even the most enlightened vegetative states cannot decipher."
Raising his monocle, King Isaav could see clear across to the opposing force. "Oh, and they've all got their tongues out too. Disrespectful, really disrespectful. Carrie, can we really go on like this? His whole head was in two."
"First off, sire, my compliments on your being quite astute in your observations. May I mention the fact that the opposing jester seems to be doing sword swallows, and flipping us the duckies?"
"Look, Carrie. I can see it. I know."
"Shall I send an emissary over to seek terms, my lord?"
"I'm not getting my money back for the show. At this point, might as well cut the losses…"
