The Accidental King of Achoo

by Linda J. Falkner

  Nearly everyone in the community liked Dr. Grigoros. They cheered his win and congratulated him and his wife, Syzygos. Dr. Grigoros and Syzygos were an indivisible team—he adored his wife, and she adored him. Syzygos was a loving woman with long hair tied up in a bun and a busty chest that the teenage boys admired.

  Orgizo Abadon, with his quirky, blond topknot and bloated, sunburned face, smiled and laughed louder than anyone else at the celebration. However, no one noticed when he left early. Even though he had not participated in the run, Orgizo hated to see someone else getting attention or awards instead of him. Few people knew that he was so bitter. They saw him as charismatic and powerful. Only those closest to him were aware that ever since he was a young child, Orgizo had hated to lose. If someone beat him, he argued that the game had been rigged. His family was privileged and had taught him that he was better, and thus deserved more, than other people.

  No one knows why Orgizo was so angry. Possibly it was because he had been the firstborn child and had felt displaced by his sister, who was born when he was five years old. Orgizo had been delegated to an inattentive caretaker while his parents doted over the new baby, who was cute, smiling, and happy. Perhaps he felt that he was unwanted because he was an angry, spoiled boy who still wet his bed into his teens and struggled in school. During his teen years, Orgizo’s family had grown tired of his problem behavior and sent him away for a while. Maybe he was resentful because he lived on the mountain, away from people in the valley. Or maybe it was just because Orgizo took after his many times great-grandfather, the criminal Jeremiah Abadon, who also had been driven to be better and above everyone else.

  Anyway, nobody really understood why Orgizo was so self-centered, and no one noticed him pouting and stomping off into the woods. They were all too busy cheering for Dr. Grigoros and toasting him, late into the night, with homemade craft beer and wild-grape wine.

  The next morning, activities recommenced with a new contest, the long-anticipated toilet jump. The people of Achoo were excellent horseback riders, skilled in racing and jumping.

  Even with his roly-poly belly, King Vasilios was a skilled horseman. He had ridden since he was a child, and he was known as the best jumper in the valley. “I’ve decided to join the jumping contest,” the king said in a slurred voice, still a little drunk from the previous night. “Get me my black stallion. He’s wild, and I’m the only one who can ride him.” It took three strong men to lead the lustrous black horse to the king. But when the stallion saw his owner, the wild look in his eyes became soft and he allowed the king to mount him.

  As with the foot race, this contest was done in the nude. King Vasilios appeared a bit shaky getting on the horse, but no one seemed to notice—or if they did, they did not say anything. He was the king, after all, and nobody criticized or corrected the king. If he wanted to jump, then jump he would. Assistants lined up three toilets filled with water, and the king and stallion crossed them with ease. Then they added two more toilets. Again, king and stallion smoothly covered the distance and landed on the other side.

  When the number of toilets was increased to seven for the third jump, the naked king objected. “More toilets. My stallion can jump twice that many. I want the next jump to be ten toilets.”

  As assistants reluctantly added three more toilets, the villagers gasped. They doubted that the king’s horse could cover that distance, which was simply too far for any horse. However, the king insisted. At first the horse hesitated, but urged on by his beloved owner, he then made a great leap and landed safely on the other side. The crowd cheered loudly, clapping and laughing with pleasure at the king’s riding skills.

  “Add two more,” insisted King Vasilios. “My stallion can jump twelve. There is no better horse in this whole valley.”

  “I don’t think that is a good idea,” said Axio, the king’s adviser and counselor. He was a handsome young man with a square face and deep dimples in each cheek, and his nearly shoulder-length brown hair formed loose waves as it blew in the wind. This poised and sophisticated young man was always there to assist the king and lend a listening ear.

  Axio knew the king better than anyone else did, and he was aware that the king would often push himself beyond good judgment. King Vasilios was strong and highly driven, but he did not appear to understand that he was not young anymore. He would push himself to the edge—and sometimes beyond.

  “I said twelve. Add two more toilets. My horse can do it.”

  Axio was silent, and no one else said a word. The king was the king, and his word was final. The villagers loved and respected King Vasilios because he was a good leader and a kind man. So two more toilets were added, making an even dozen, filled with water and lined up in a row.

  The naked king took the black stallion far back and got a long running start. Approaching the line of toilets at a full gallop, the horse took a mighty leap and almost made it to the end. But he landed just short, and one of his back hooves kicked the last toilet. The king went flying from his saddle and fell head first into a toilet. His arms, legs, and other body parts flailed wildly, making it impossible for anyone to help him up. Finally, when he calmed down, three men were able to pull him out.

  Having spent several minutes with his head submerged in a toilet, the king was unconscious, so Dr. Grigoros gave him a few hard slaps on the back to get him breathing again. “Cover him with a blanket,” the doctor said. Several strong men carried the king to bed, and Dr. Grigoros did all he could for him. For three days, the king was barely conscious. At times, he woke but appeared to be delusional, and his speech was gibberish. Finally, on the third day, the king stopped moving and breathed no more.

  “We will put him in a pine box. His body will return to the ground quickly, replenishing the soil and plants,” said Noimon, the wisest and most respected person in the community. He had wild gray hair and a humped back, which caused him to walk bent over. Although he looked old, Noimon had the energy of a child, and he was much loved by the villagers.

  So the villagers put their beloved king in a plain wooden box and buried him in a simple ceremony. Then they remained indoors and grieved for a full month, before returning to their work.

  Before long, the villagers started to miss having a king. When Theo, a large and angry man, beat his wife, there was no one to decide on a punishment. When certain neighbors took to fighting, no one was there to settle the problem. When young Dimitris and his lovely girlfriend, Athena, wanted to get married, there was nobody to perform the ceremony. And worst of all, when Marina and Philippos had their first baby, there was no king to bless and name her. This situation could not continue much longer.

  The celebration had ceased when the king got hurt, but it was time to resume the contests and choose a new king. The villagers met and appointed Lincoln to fill the position temporarily, until they could choose their next king.

  CHAPTER 2

  Orgizo Abadon lived in the mountains, away from the village. He had the largest house, built many years earlier by Jeremiah Abadon’s forty-two wives, children, and African slaves. They had used only the best wood, and they lined the walls and chairs with the gold they had brought with them to Achoo in Trupperware containers.

  Silkworms lived in the mulberry trees growing in the mountains, and Orgizo’s wives and children collected the cocoons and sewed elaborate silk dresses and shirts. Orgizo sat on his golden chair, wearing the best silk shirt, and pondered his situation. He had no interest in doing the chores that the king was required to perform, but he was still smarting over the attention Dr. Grigoros had received for winning the race. He felt that he deserved the praise and attention, even though he had not even run in the race. Besides, he was bored, and being bored was unbearable to Orgizo. Since he was a young child, he would have temper tantrums or pick fights just to avoid the anxiety that he felt when he became bored. Fights and vandalism were exciting, and they temporarily erased the anxiety that was
so intolerable to Orgizo.

  “I’m going to run,” he announced. “It will be exciting to join in the contests.”

  “You are much older than most of the competitors and not at all in shape for the grueling races.” His wives worked together in trying to discourage him.

  “No matter,” he said. “I am sure I can win. I deserve to win because I am the best. People like me because of my amazing smile and quick wit. I have a very good brain. I will be the greatest king Achoo has ever had. I will make Achoo great again.”

  Orgizo wrote a note that said, “I will be competing in the races. Add my name to the list. Excited!” He sent the note to the village via bird-mail, attaching it to the leg of a trained homing pigeon and sending the tweeting bird to fly to the village.

  The villagers set the date for the New Year’s celebration and began the preparations. They were even more excited than usual because this year they would be choosing a new king. Dr. Grigoros was the favorite for the running contest. He had won before, and everyone knew he was the fastest runner in the village. Lincoln, with his long legs and arms, was the favorite for the chariot races. Not all contests required strength, however. Most villagers expected Mikro to win the cooking contest and Noimon to succeed at the scavenger hunt.

  The night before the races, the villagers prepared a feast. While they ate and drank until they were satiated, the race preparation team was setting up signs with arrows directing the runners. The signs took the racers around the valley, and one especially important sign showed them where to make a sharp turn so they would avoid the sneeze trees.

  Everyone was busy celebrating and no one noticed that Orgizo left early. He had not told anyone that he was staying with his son and daughter-in-law in the valley for the celebrations. It was a long walk to his home on the mountain, especially late at night. If anyone had thought about it, they might have thought he was heading home to get a good night’s sleep, but he had something else in mind. Orgizo was older that the other contestants by at least twenty years, had a bit of a paunch, and was balding. Although he combed his hair over the thin spots to form a topknot, that did not fool anyone. But he had a devious scheme to win the race, which he began putting into action while the others partied.

  The next morning the contestants lined up.

  Dr. Grigoros, the favorite to win, was the tall and lanky village healer with a ponytail, beard, and mustache, but nothing on top.

  Dynami, a strong, muscular man with a gentle face that contrasted with his powerful, muscled arms and legs, was also considered a strong contestant. He was a member of a group called the Hatters, and he wore a colorful scarf over his head whenever he left his house. Dynami worked in the village doing various heavy physical jobs ranging from cutting down trees to building homes.

  Lincoln had long arms and legs, which gave him a spidery appearance. His craggy face had deep wrinkles, and his ears were unusually large. Lincoln was a skilled artisan, building tables, chairs, and other furniture that were not only functional but also exquisite. The villagers had chosen him to be temporary king because of his kind heart and sharp mind. Some people in the village wanted to forgo the election and allow Lincoln to keep the position, but their traditions forbid it.

  Ahavah, a small, thin man, was a skilled climber. His job in the community was to climb trees and throw down the ripe fruit for the villagers to eat. Ahavah was a gentle, loving soul who carried spiders out of his house rather than killing them. He wore a small beanie on his head, and a box containing a prayer was attached to his front door. He kissed his hand and touched it to the box whenever he went into his house. Ahavah’s wife, Pandora, an attractive woman with ocean-blue eyes, ample breasts, and flowing blonde hair, tolerated this practice, but thought he was odd.

  Polemistis, heavily built with a dark complexion, looked more like a powerful warrior than a runner, but he wanted to give it a try. His sweet temperament contrasted sharply with his powerful, Klingon-like build. Polemistis was the village’s olive crusher, stomping and crushing olives with his bare feet. The scent of olive oil permeated his skin, and even after bathing in the river, he still smelled of olives.

  Kynigos, the village hunter, a strong and stocky man with a shadow of a beard, was bringing his strength and nature skills to the contest. He was a kind man who never killed for any reason other than food or protection. It was rare for anyone in the valley to be attacked by a wild animal. Still, the occasional pig or wildcat could be dangerous, so Kynigos always carried his bow and arrows with him—just in case.

  Mikro was the only woman in the race. She was small but wiry, and very smart. Her husband and daughter were at the starting line, cheering her on. Mikro warmed up by jumping in place. Many people in the village admired her for her ambition and intelligence. Nevertheless, some deplorable people, who were suspicious of her ambition, resented Mikro and feared her success.

  Finally, there was Orgizo. He was older than the others and out of shape from his lazy and luxurious life, so nobody thought he had a chance of even coming close to winning. Orgizo wore a smug expression on his red, sunburned face, as though he was hiding a secret. No one could understand why he was entering the race, since he clearly had no chance of honestly winning.

  The runners lined up, ready for the start. Noimon had volunteered to be the starter. Everyone in the village loved Noimon, especially the children, who called him Grandpa. He loved telling stories to the children, but he often confused the details and mixed up characters from various stories into a mishmash.

  The children would laugh and exclaim, “No, Grandpa, that’s wrong. That’s not how the story goes.”

  “It isn’t?” Noimon would ask in a surprised voice.

  “No, Grandpa, that isn’t at all right,” the children would insist.

  “Then tell me.” Noimon’s eyes would be twinkling.

  The children often ended up telling Grandpa Noimon the story, but no matter how many times they reminded him, Noimon never could remember. The children loved telling him their stories over and over again. Their favorite story was about Jeremiah Abadon, the crook who ran away to avoid jail, discovered Achoo, and became the first king. They loved telling the story about how the contests started to celebrate the anniversary of finding Achoo, and how it became their summer New Year. They especially loved telling about the runner who lost his shorts, and how everyone had run naked since then. Noimon loved hearing the children tell the stories that, of course, he actually already knew. But he never gave away his secret, and the children continued their efforts to teach him.

  “One, two, three … Go!” Noimon yelled as he banged the gong.

  The racers were off!

  Dr. Grigoros took the lead and the others followed, running as a pack and trading positions as they ran. Then Lincoln, with his long legs, began catching up with Dr. Grigoros, and Mikro, as small as she was, surprised everyone by catching Lincoln. The three ran a close race. The others were far behind, with Orgizo a distant last.

  The first part of the race took them through a grassy meadow that smelled of the morning dew and made for smooth, easy running. Then the group reached a mountainous area with sharp, protruding boulders blocking the pathways. Their progress slowed, as they had to run around and sometimes climb over the rocks.

  Dr. Grigoros was still in front, but the others were catching up to him as climbing over and around rocks replaced straightforward running. He was a runner first, but less skilled in managing the rough ground. The doctor’s thoughts digressed from winning the race to how he would lead if he became king. He was a kindly man and dedicated to his wife, Syzygos, who always greeted him with kisses and hugs. He was an expert in staying calm under difficult situations, but today he was feeling anxious as he realized others were catching up to him. Dr. Grigoros pushed himself with all he had. Being king would allow him to expand his healing to include not only the sick but the whole community. He was running for
the good of the village, and he believed that he was the best person for the job.

  Dynami, wearing a colorful scarf, and dark-skinned, olive-scented Polemistis were close behind Dr. Grigoros when the rockslide began. It was impossible to tell if the rocks would have fallen at that moment anyway, or whether it was the runners’ movements, or maybe even an animal up in the rocks, that initiated the plummet. Regardless of what started it, when one rock loosened and began falling, other rocks that depended on that rock for support followed, resulting in a cascade of rocks. With a loud rumble, huge boulders tumbled down and into the mountain pass.

  As the boulders fell, Dr. Grigoros stumbled and was pinned under a giant rock. Dynami and Polemistis stopped running. Looking around, Dynami saw a large tree branch that had recently fallen. He dragged the branch over to Dr. Grigoros, and his gentle face hardened as he used all his strength to lift the boulder just a bit from Dr. Grigoros. Polemistis, whose complexion matched the dark tree branch, used his warrior build to help push the branch under the rock. The two men then used the branch as a lever to raise the boulder and pull Dr. Grigoros out.

  Dr. Grigoros was free, but his leg was bruised and he limped in pain. He would have to return to the village, since he could no longer run. The rest of the runners had stopped when they reached Dr. Grigoros, and they did what they could to help. Everyone was there except Orgizo. As they looked around, Mikro, who had excellent vision, spotted Orgizo on the mountainside above them.

  “What are you doing up there?” she called.

  “I was just looking around. I wanted to see why the rocks fell. Frightening!” he yelled back to her.