Today’s genre: Comedy/Historical
Words: 499
A few days ago, my boyfriend managed to create a fully-functioning time machine and since Thursday we’ve been living in the Tudor period. The rules are stricter, the people are poorer, and the houses are smaller. We hailed from East London, so it was a big change of scenery...well, we had travelled 500 years into the past, so that was to be expected, regardless of where we’d originated. The best way to describe where we’re lodging is like a third world country – there’s no electricity, sewage system, and there is only one room inside to accommodate everything; bit of a shithole, to use present wording. I wanted to leave almost right away, but my boyfriend insisted we stay and have a first-hand history lesson; hard to disagree when he’s in the process of going down on you...
As people around here had no idea what electricity was, I was surviving on batteries: I had my laptop, a small stereo-like speaker system for my mp3 player, and my DS for entertainment (lucky, that – jousting and public executions weren’t really my thing, but the theatre was a good laugh). Soon enough though, I wanted to kick it up a notch, so I brought my mp3 player to a jester’s performance for the King in the main courtyard and pressed play. There was a big crowd and the atmosphere was merry, so I figured that everyone would start dancing to this strange futuristic music that would lift the mood even further. I had no idea what would play first because I always had it on shuffle, but Justin Bieber’s Baby started playing. A few strange looks and comments were to be expected...
“This music, from whence does it play?”
“What is that queer contraption that that fellow is holding?”
Then the chorus kicked in...
Baby baby baby, ooohh...
A man that was standing in profile next to me suddenly yelled, “What is this?? This young maiden is singing about lusting after a baby?”
Baby baby baby, NOOOO...
“In the name of all that is holy, is this heathen singing of raping a baby? THIS IS DEVIL’S MUSIC!” a woman shrieked.
Thought you’d always be mine, mine...
Then the King spoke up... “A travesty! A travesty, I say!! Burn the infidels at once, AT ONCE, GO TO!”
Out of nowhere, some men in helmets and uniformed clothing seized me by the arms and dragged me away from the crowd. A tiny bit of wee escaped my urethra.
My boyfriend, being a quick thinker, pulled out his laptop and shouted. “WAIT! Hear this out before you make any rash decisions!”
A fast 8-bit tune began playing and immediately I recognised it. He thrust his laptop in the direction of the King and his face softened. He motioned for the guards to let me go as he continued to stare at the laptop with raised eyebrows.
Sunday 25th of September 1523 – the day that my boyfriend saved my life by playing Henry VIII Nyan Cat.
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