Guess Who's Coming To Dinner
This was a story I wrote in my creative writing class last semester. It was my way of sneaking some slash into my writing for class by including two gay characters. Can anyone guess who the two gay characters are meant to represent? ;P
King Thomas III strode into the dining hall of his extravagant medieval palace and his large gut bounced with each step. Upon entering the room, he admired his exquisite candelabra, which was finely-crafted entirely out of gold. Several of the candles had blown out, much to the king’s annoyance. He’d make sure that the servant was flogged afterwards for neglecting his duties.
Thomas’ wife and son stood patiently at the long wooden dining table and neither dared to sit down until he had done so first. The king strutted up to his seat and waited for his servant to pull out the chair before sitting down. As he plopped down on it, his gut smacked lightly against the table and Thomas glared at his servant for not having pulled the chair out far enough.
A giant platter of pheasant surrounded by several piles of grapes and a glass of wine sat in front of King Thomas. Steam rose from the freshly-cooked bird and he eagerly ripped off a leg. He chomped greedily on the tiny leg, since he wished to feed his immense hunger, but he ended up with overcooked dry meat that rubbed against his tongue as he sucked the bone clean. He grinded his teeth together just to chew; King Thomas made a note to himself to have the cook flogged once the unsatisfactory meal was complete.
After Thomas had finished the pheasant leg and tossed the bone back onto the platter, he eyed his family. His wife, Queen Penelope, daintily ate bite-sized pieces of pheasant and dabbed her lips with a handkerchief after every bite. Prince Isaac, his son, plopped grapes into his mouth while he stared up at the roof. He wanted to get the obligatory pleasantries over with, so he looked over at Penelope and asked, “How was your day?”
“Fine, my dear,” replied the queen, her face stoic as always. In their entire twenty-five years of marriage, he had not once seen her smile, frown, or even cry. She was always impassive, but at least she had provided Thomas with a strong heir to the throne.
As he thought of his heir, King Thomas glanced over at the prince. The young man now leaned back in his chair and was tossing the grapes into the air and catching them in his mouth. Thomas seized a handful of grapes himself and shovelled them into his gaping maw. He nearly spat them out, since they were not yet ripe and overbearingly sour. He adjusted his previous mental note to have the cook executed instead of flogged.
Thomas shifted his focus back to Isaac and asked, “What about you, son?” The prince halted his target practice and sat back down properly in his chair.
“I’m in love,” said Isaac as a grin played across his face.
“Congratulations,” said Penelope. A smile crossed her face for the first time in twenty-five years.
Thomas frowned slightly, since he hoped that his son had had enough sense to fall in love with a woman of noble birth, specifically a rich one. Before he could inquire further, Isaac said, “Do not worry, father. The love of my life is from one of the most prestigious noble families in Florence. Also, the family is quite wealthy, which I assume is all that matters to you.” Prince Isaac offered his father a glare, one that the king did not notice as he drooled over the possibility of a large dowry.
“I will introduce you, since he is here,” Isaac said as he avoided eye contact with his father. He hastily fled the room to retrieve his lover.
Thoughts of money fled from Thomas’ mind as Isaac returned with a strapping young Italian man. “Father, mother, meet Antonio,” said Isaac as he finally met his father’s gaze.
King Thomas reacted without hesitation and slammed his fists down on the table. The platter of food in front of him sailed an inch into the air before it clattered back down. Across the table, Queen Penelope regained her blank expression.
“How dare you do this to me. Not only will I be the laughing stock of Europe, but who will continue my royal line?” Thomas needed the buzz of alcohol to dull his senses, so he grabbed his wine and chugged it all down.
The wine was incredibly bitter and burned as it went down King Thomas’ throat. He felt light-headed and his extremities were unusually cold. His throat constricted and the unexpected sensation of drowning overcame him. Thomas forcefully coughed as he tried to dislodge the wine that he believed was stuck in his throat, but splatters of blood came out instead. He tried to stand up, but his legs soon gave way and he collapsed to the floor.
Through hazy vision, King Thomas spotted his wife and son standing over him. Penelope’s face was expressionless, while tears formed in Isaac’s eyes. Neither moved to go seek assistance and instead offered each other solemn nods as though they had come to accept Thomas’ fate.
“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon,” whispered Prince Isaac as he tried his best to hold back his tears. He cuddled up next to Antonio for comfort, who wrapped his arms around his lover. Isaac refused to meet his father’s dying gaze as buried his face in Antonio’s chest.
Queen Penelope snatched up her husband’s goblet and carefully poured the remaining wine into his open mouth. She watched passively as he tried to spit it back out and failed. After he let out his last breath, Penelope took her handkerchief and gently placed it over Thomas’ gruesome face.
King Thomas III strode into the dining hall of his extravagant medieval palace and his large gut bounced with each step. Upon entering the room, he admired his exquisite candelabra, which was finely-crafted entirely out of gold. Several of the candles had blown out, much to the king’s annoyance. He’d make sure that the servant was flogged afterwards for neglecting his duties.
Thomas’ wife and son stood patiently at the long wooden dining table and neither dared to sit down until he had done so first. The king strutted up to his seat and waited for his servant to pull out the chair before sitting down. As he plopped down on it, his gut smacked lightly against the table and Thomas glared at his servant for not having pulled the chair out far enough.
A giant platter of pheasant surrounded by several piles of grapes and a glass of wine sat in front of King Thomas. Steam rose from the freshly-cooked bird and he eagerly ripped off a leg. He chomped greedily on the tiny leg, since he wished to feed his immense hunger, but he ended up with overcooked dry meat that rubbed against his tongue as he sucked the bone clean. He grinded his teeth together just to chew; King Thomas made a note to himself to have the cook flogged once the unsatisfactory meal was complete.
After Thomas had finished the pheasant leg and tossed the bone back onto the platter, he eyed his family. His wife, Queen Penelope, daintily ate bite-sized pieces of pheasant and dabbed her lips with a handkerchief after every bite. Prince Isaac, his son, plopped grapes into his mouth while he stared up at the roof. He wanted to get the obligatory pleasantries over with, so he looked over at Penelope and asked, “How was your day?”
“Fine, my dear,” replied the queen, her face stoic as always. In their entire twenty-five years of marriage, he had not once seen her smile, frown, or even cry. She was always impassive, but at least she had provided Thomas with a strong heir to the throne.
As he thought of his heir, King Thomas glanced over at the prince. The young man now leaned back in his chair and was tossing the grapes into the air and catching them in his mouth. Thomas seized a handful of grapes himself and shovelled them into his gaping maw. He nearly spat them out, since they were not yet ripe and overbearingly sour. He adjusted his previous mental note to have the cook executed instead of flogged.
Thomas shifted his focus back to Isaac and asked, “What about you, son?” The prince halted his target practice and sat back down properly in his chair.
“I’m in love,” said Isaac as a grin played across his face.
“Congratulations,” said Penelope. A smile crossed her face for the first time in twenty-five years.
Thomas frowned slightly, since he hoped that his son had had enough sense to fall in love with a woman of noble birth, specifically a rich one. Before he could inquire further, Isaac said, “Do not worry, father. The love of my life is from one of the most prestigious noble families in Florence. Also, the family is quite wealthy, which I assume is all that matters to you.” Prince Isaac offered his father a glare, one that the king did not notice as he drooled over the possibility of a large dowry.
“I will introduce you, since he is here,” Isaac said as he avoided eye contact with his father. He hastily fled the room to retrieve his lover.
Thoughts of money fled from Thomas’ mind as Isaac returned with a strapping young Italian man. “Father, mother, meet Antonio,” said Isaac as he finally met his father’s gaze.
King Thomas reacted without hesitation and slammed his fists down on the table. The platter of food in front of him sailed an inch into the air before it clattered back down. Across the table, Queen Penelope regained her blank expression.
“How dare you do this to me. Not only will I be the laughing stock of Europe, but who will continue my royal line?” Thomas needed the buzz of alcohol to dull his senses, so he grabbed his wine and chugged it all down.
The wine was incredibly bitter and burned as it went down King Thomas’ throat. He felt light-headed and his extremities were unusually cold. His throat constricted and the unexpected sensation of drowning overcame him. Thomas forcefully coughed as he tried to dislodge the wine that he believed was stuck in his throat, but splatters of blood came out instead. He tried to stand up, but his legs soon gave way and he collapsed to the floor.
Through hazy vision, King Thomas spotted his wife and son standing over him. Penelope’s face was expressionless, while tears formed in Isaac’s eyes. Neither moved to go seek assistance and instead offered each other solemn nods as though they had come to accept Thomas’ fate.
“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon,” whispered Prince Isaac as he tried his best to hold back his tears. He cuddled up next to Antonio for comfort, who wrapped his arms around his lover. Isaac refused to meet his father’s dying gaze as buried his face in Antonio’s chest.
Queen Penelope snatched up her husband’s goblet and carefully poured the remaining wine into his open mouth. She watched passively as he tried to spit it back out and failed. After he let out his last breath, Penelope took her handkerchief and gently placed it over Thomas’ gruesome face.