The Lollipop Dragon

THE LOLLIPOP DRAGON

         Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Comedia, there lived a little prince named Rodney.  Rodney was sad because he had no friends.  And he had no friends because he was sad.  You see, sadness had been banished from Comedia long before Rodney was born (and the date just so happened to coincide with the last time any word had been looked up in the Royal Dictionary).
         King Aloicias and Queen Eulele tried everything they knew to make their little son happy.  But nothing worked.
         "Perhaps the prince is sick," the cook whispered to the maid.  Soon this rumour spread throughout the kingdom.
         King Aloicias sent for the Royal Physician who promptly gave Rodney a royal checkup.  But nothing was found to be wrong with the little prince.  Not even a toothache or a cold.
         "It's just a simple case of melancholia," the Royal Physician explained to King Aloicias.
         "Melon what?  Is that contagious?"
         "It can be," nodded the Royal Physician, then left.
         King Aloicias wrung his royal hands.  "Oh dear!  Oh dear!  My son is sick!" he cried.
         "What is it?" Queen Eulele asked.
         "Rodney has... (gasp) melancholia."
         "Well, it sounds to me as if Rodney has been eating far too many melons," the queen said.  "Perhaps the sale of melons should be banned."
         "That is a fine idea, my queen!" exclaimed King Aloicias, and kissed her soundly atop her royal head.
         The very next day, all melons were removed from Comedia.
         Days passed.  Still, Prince Rodney was sad.
         "Do you suppose," the king asked his wife one evening, "that this melon thing is an everlasting illness?"
         Queen Eulele's eyes grew wide with despair.  "I certainly hope not," she said.  Then, an idea came to her.  "Why don't we consult the Royal Dictionary?  Perhaps we can find out exactly what this melancholia is."
         "That is a fine idea, my queen!" said her husband.  And, the following day, he had the stewards bring in the rarely-consulted, dust-covered book.
         "Set it on the table there," the king ordered.  "That's good.  That's good.  Now, now... look up the word 'melancholia'."
         The royal servants frowned dumbly at their monarch.  "Melon what?  How do you spell that, your majesty?"
         "T-h-a-t," laughed King Aloicias.  But nobody else got the joke; so, he quickly cleared his royal throat, and said:  "Melancholia... spells like it sounds.  M-e-l-o-n-k-o-l-e-a."
         The royal stewards searched and searched for 'melonkolea', but could find no entry.
         "Perhaps melancholia was just recently discovered.  Or else, this Webster fellow was a poor speller," huffed the king.
         That evening, Queen Eulele put forth another proposal to her husband:  "Perhaps all Rodney needs is for you to forbid him to be sad."
         "That is a fine idea, my queen!" the king remarked.  He had the little prince summoned to his office.
         "What is this that has come over you, my son?  You know that sadness has not been allowed in Comedia for twenty years.  Your mother a I are quite concerned.  Son, I command you to be happy."
         Tears filled Prince Rodney's eyes.  "Yes sir," he muttered softly, and walked away—his head hung low.
         "Well...?" Queen Eulele wondered, entering the office a minute later.  "Did it work?"
         "I do not think so, my dear," the king answered.
         When the little prince didn't come down for dinner, Queen Eulele turned to her husband.  "Why not have a party for him?" she suggested.  "I could invite all of our friends.  Maybe that will make him laugh—after all, our friends are the funniest Comedians ever."
         "That is a fine idea, my queen!" the king said, then had a dinner tray sent up to Prince Rodney's room.
         As for Queen Eulele, she skipped dinner, completely.  She was too excited about the upcoming party.
         "How is the guest list coming, my dear," the king asked a few days later.
         "Guest list?  Why, I haven't even begun that yet."
         "Every party must have guests," King Aloicias said in a regal tone of voice.
         "I was thinking we could have a pre-party talent show.  One hundred Comedians will be selected to attend the party."
         "That is a fine idea, my queen!" exclaimed the king.  "We will have this talent show of yours two days from now."
         News travels fast, and Comedians are the best reprters, far and wide.  By noon the following day, everybody was entering the queen's talent show.  "Anything for Prince Rodney," they said.
         There were jugglers and jesters, impressionists and mimes, and even dancing dogs.  But the most remarkable character in the crowd was a talking dragon named Asgard.
         Now, before you go making up pictures in your head of gorgeous, youth-devouring, fire-breathing red creatures with beady green eyes, and a wing span the size of a ship, let me assure you that Asgard does not fit that description.  Many centuries before our story, Asgard became a vegetarian.  His favorite foods are peas and carrots (and a rare piece of lemon meringue pie).  His doctors told him to make changes in his diet because his scales are lollipops; and his fire-breathing had melted the scales on his chest more times than Asgard cares to disclose.
         Asgard sheds his scales bi-weekly, and leaves a trail of lime, orange, cherry, grape, licorice, root beer, lemon, and banana candies (just to name a few).
         Asgard's favorite hobby is reading.  And, twenty years ago, he won two awards in Comedia:        one for reading the most books in a month; and the other for spelling.
         
         "How was the talent show, my dear?" King Aloicias asked that night.
         "It was wonderful.  I wish you could have been there."
         "So do I.  But, today was the formal ceremony in my honor at Joker's College."
         "I'm so proud of you," the queen smiled.
         "This is the best part:" continued the king,  "they dedicated a monument to me in Idiot's Hall."
         "Oh!  That is grand!" Queen Eulele giggled.
         "So, when is this party for Rodney?" asked the king.
         "Saturday—and I do hope you can attend."
         King Aloicias declared that he would, indeed, be there.
         Now, everybody knows that kings never make promises they cannot keep—at least not in fairy tales.  So, Saturday evening just as the moon was rising, the Royal Family entered the ballroom where the party for Prince Rodney was underway.
         One by one, the hundred funniest Comedians, numbered according to their size, came before the sad prince to perform some stunt or tell a joke.
         But Rodney didn't laugh.
         "I don't think it's working," King Aloicias whispered to his wife after a trio of giant acrobatic clowns finished their tricks.
         "That was only number ninety-nine," Queen Eulele told him, hoping that the lollipop dragon wouldn't disappoint her.
         At last it was Asgard's turn to go before the little prince.  The dragon had never actually met royalty before—although, a thousand years ago, he had eaten a grand duke.  Needless to say, he was a bit bashful.
         Up to the stage he marched, leaving in his trail a colorful array of candies, which the other ninety-nine guests pounced upon with delight.
         Asgard bowed low before the little prince.
         "How do you do?" Rodney said, a faint sparkle of pleasure coming into his eyes.
         Asgard looked confused.  "How do I do what, sire?" he wondered.
         The room shook with laughter.
         "That is a standard greeting," the prince explained.
         "Standard for whom, sire?"
         Again, everyone laughed.  Even Rodney half-smiled for a brief moment.
         "Everyone says that when they meet somone new."
         "But, I am someone old, sire," Asgard said.  "And, furthermore, that greeting makes absolutely no sense at all."
         "I agree," the prince told the dragon solemnly.
         "Tell us your name," King Aloicias entreated.
         "Asgard, your majesty."
         "Yes, well... Asgard, you're the last of a hundred Comedians to come before my son.  The others have failed to make him laugh--'though they were all quite funny."
         "Why doesn't the prince laugh?" Asgard asked the king.  "Does he have a sore throat?  Are his braces too tight?"
         "Neither," answered the king.  "He has an ailment called melancholia."
         "And do you know what melancholia is, oh king?"
         Aloicias flushed a deep shade of red.  "Of course!" he bellowed.  "It is a disease which robs one of his ability to laugh."
         "Are you sure of that?" Asgard hummed with a smile.
         "Yes!" King Aloicias snapped angrily, and gave his wife a look which said that he was very disappointed with her guest list.
         "Have you consulted the Royal Dictionary?" Asgard further inquired of the Crown.
         "I did."
         "And what definition did it give for 'melancholia'?"
         "It is not found."
         "Why don't you check again?"
         At this, King Aloicias jumped up indignantly.
         Everyone in the ballroom gasped with alarm.
         "Are you challenging me?" the king asked the lollipop dragon.
         "I am, your majesty," Asgard answered boldly.
         All of the other guests took several steps back as King Aloicias stepped down from the platform to stand toe to toe with Asgard.
         They glared at each other.
         Without looking away, the king ordered the Royal Dictionary to be brought in at once.  "All right, Asgard," King Aloicias told the dragon when the old book was delivered to them, "spell melancholia."
         "Melancholia: m-e-l-a-n-c-h-o-l-i-a... melancholia."
         Sure enough, the word was located.  Its meaning: sadness.
         Asgard looked intently at the king, who wore a blush on his royal cheeks.  "Do you know why your son is sad, your majesty?  Or, haven't you asked him?"
         "Well, I... we—er—that is... his mother--" Aloicias stammered.  Then he simply shook his royal head.
         Asgard approached Prince Rodney.  "Why are you sad, sire?" he asked.
         "Because I have no friends," was Rodney's quiet answer.
         "You have one, now."
         Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of Prince Rodney's mouth.  He had a friend! A real friend, at last!
         Asgard bent to retrieve a lollipop which had fallen from his tail a moment before, and handed it to the royal lad.
         Rodney accepted it, his smile deepening to a grin.  "Mmm... chocolate, my favorite!"  And, he laughed with pleasure.

THE END