Coronation

Lewis ate the feast before him with enthusiasm, and when he finished, they came for him. He felt excited and thrilled.

It was his coronation.

The little country of Novania was making him its King.

He couldn't understand why he deserved such an honor, and it had all happened so fast. After he killed the dragon, he couldn't believe his luck.

Well, of course, the dragon was the reason.

But the dragon had been no problem.

Guns take care of dragons easily.

And, of course, he had rescued the princess.

They took him down the long hall and through the green door and into the coronation room and led him to his throne. He sat down gently and they placed the hood over his face and the crown on his head.

He noticed he couldn't lift his arms, but thought little of it. He was quite tired.

He said, "I will be kind to my subjects."

* * *

"He thinks he's being crowned a king," said the Warden. "Been talking about it all week. He's lost his nut. It's the way he's dealing with things. Thinks the guy he killed, guy messing with his wife, was a dragon. Thinks the wife was a princess he saved, not some slut. Ain't that something? Thinks he's in some country he made up, that he's getting crowned. Turned it all into a fairy tale."

"He's smiling," said the reporter.

"Not when they throw the juice. He won't smile then."

"He'll never know, will he?"

"Not as far gone as he is. Lucky bastard."

* * *

And when they pulled the switch, Lewis felt a surge of what he thought was enthusiasm at having been crowned; in an electric fast instant he wondered when they would remove the hood, if it was part of some ancient custom.

Then his brain was fried.

The warden was wrong though.

Even after they threw the juice, he was smiling beneath the hood, but it wasn't pretty. He showed all his teeth all the way up to the burnt and smoking gums.

(c) 2003 Joe R. Lansdale.