As the chief legislator signed his last death warrant for the day, a wet and towel-clad King Gorgon came stumbling into his quarters.
“We have to protect our citizens!” he shouted. “I want you to post a decree banning all bathtubs, showers, anything with a faucet. From now on, our government is decidedly anti-faucet.”
The chief legislator took a breath before he dared to ask what had happened.
“Nothing happened. I simply came to realize that running water is a terrible hazard, and I’m surprised it doesn’t result in more injuries than it does. Do not question my judgement.”
The chief legislator noticed the king’s swollen toe. “Very good, sire. Your word is law.” He dipped his quill in ink and began a draft of a new bill. The king’s zeal would undoubtedly fade as his injury healed, though sometimes his memory was stubborn. The legislator was looking forward to eating popcorn again.
“How is your tooth, your majesty?” he asked absentmindedly. He regretted the words as they left his mouth. The stack of execution slips looked taller than ever.
“My tooth is fine. Make sure it stays that way.” The king turned with regal dignity to the empty doorframe and stormed out. Had doors still been legal, he would have slammed one.
The legislator nodded to himself and honored the king’s request, as he always did and always would. As he signed his name as the bottom, he heard the king shriek from his bedroom, “Damned zippers!” and with some resignation, the legislator removed his pants and started a new bill.