The Emperor's New Rad Tat

The Emperor’s New Rad Tat



ONCE UPON A TIME in the distant land of La La there lived an emperor who called himself Lord Rick. He wasn’t really an emperor. He wasn’t really even a lord. He ran for president once, but that’s the closest he ever came. (In fact, I’m not even sure Rick is his real name). Well, this tale takes place long, long ago, sometime last Tuesday, and has been painstakingly chronicled by Lord Lulz and Judge Phantom. The Lord was mighty emperor who can summon demons by raising his arm. He was much loved by all four of his subjects; sometimes five depending on how well the fifth subject knew the emperor.

He much adored his rad tats. His sixteen rad tats were his greatest pride and he greatly vaunted their abilities to attract ghosts. He had a picture of a glorious creature, who he loved with all his heart. He kept the photo in his shirt pocket, which was held together by three pieces of thread. At night, he would take the photo out, stare at it for long hours and kiss it even and sometimes his subjects could hear crying out in the night a single word…”Bigfoot”.

The emperor stood before his subjects and proclaimed, “Hear Ye! Hear! People of La La Land!” (He could not afford a town crier.) “I seek my beloved Bigfoot to be mine to cherish. He who can bring my beloved to me shall have riches piled upon him!”

By sheer chance, at that very moment, not far from where Lord Rick made his announcement, Mike Dijital and his cronies were scheming. They had come upon hard financial times. Mike would not sell his cheap Gibson Les Paul Jr., so they had to come up with other means to support themselves.

“Dude, how are we gonna some spending cash?” said one of the cronies.

A second, “Hey, we can always convince your mamma to go on Jerry Springer.”

“Dude, what did you just say?”

“You heard me, mamma’s boy.”

Mike said, “Knock it off you two. We need to find some dumb rich dude to swindle. We can pretend to be his friend and offer something that he wants more than anything else. But who do we know that’s dumb enough?”

Generic crony one scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, “Hey, man. There’s this Lord Rick nitwit who said there was a UFO hovering over his house for four hours.”

This was interesting, and Mike rose an eyebrow. “Did anyone else see this UFO?”

“Nope.”

Just at that moment, Mike heard Rick’s proclamation from a bullhorn up the street and said, “Yup, I think we’ve found our mark.”

Meanwhile, in his castle, which was really a garage with a red tarpaulin hanging over the door to disguise the fact that it was really a garage, the emperor pontificated before a webcam. He basically rambled for six hours.

“Well, everybody,” he said into the electronic eye, “I’ve finally made the leap and put out the word for Bigfoot to come for me and I only hope that these idiots, these ass clowns, who are these guys? These wiseguys who mock me out and molest the Lord Rick Fake Radio Show. They’re really just jealous of me, and my success. I’ve been in the media. I’ve written books. I’ve had thousands of photos. I’ve done over 800,000 stellar investigations and I need donations. I’ve got an investigation coming up and I need money for equipment. You know, if you have any used equipment I’ll be happy to take it. Gas cards will work. I’ll always take money. If you don’t have anything to give, you can always just show up and help out. We’ll toke a few: have a few drinks. For God sakes, get up off your lazy good-for-nothing-asses and get out from behind your monitors you lazy bastards. I deserve a little appreciation. None of you give me any appreciation. I work my ass off for these groups and everyone just takes. Do you know…do you know…I am so freaking stoned. I completely forgot what I was talking about.”

Jayman, who often tried to be the emperor’s great advisor, phoned into the fake radio show and said, “Hold it, hold it, wait a minute. What were you saying about Bigfoot?”

“Hey man, I’m trying to tie the knot with Bigfoot!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Umm, Rick, what the hell did you put in your bong this time?”

“Dude! I got primo grade! Fresh off the stem! Come on, Jay! Come on down here to Sin City and toke one up!”

“Thanks for the offer, Rick, but I think I’ll pass. I’m too busy being a productive member of society. So tell me: what did Bigfoot say when you gave him/her/it the ring?”

“Oh, you know. I can’t find it. I’m giving a big reward to anyone who can him to me.”

“Someone sent you forty bucks and you’re using it to find Bigfoot?”

“No, I got my welfare check and got a little extra cash from the slots. I was hot for a couple of days so I got some cash to throw around. Got some prime weed and I’ve been toking it. I decided that I can either fix up my Subaru or find Bigfoot. The busted out windows save me on gas for the A/C so I decided to find the love of my life.”

“Um, Rick, let me guess. You put this up on Craigslist. Rick, this is hard to believe, but there are idiots even dumber than you who are going to start messaging you and you’re going to get con artists and every breed. Do yourself a favor and put the bong down. Rick, just put the bong down.”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit, Jay. You always show up ragging on my kids and ragging on my dead friend. You post all my personal information and you think I’m supposed to think you’re worth a shit?”

“Rick, look. I just want to help. How much is this reward anyway?”

“It’s ten thousand and just how are you helping by posting my personal ads and posting my dinner menu?”

“Ten thousand?”

“You are the biggest ass clown of all the wiseguys. Why the hell are you even on my show?”

“Rick, first of all, if I even believed you had ten thousand dollars, it takes a real worthless moron to use it to find Bigfoot, when every other day of the week, you can’t even feed your family.”

“Hey, I saved something for my kids you damned ass clown. It’s my money and I—“

“Rick, second; to advertise that kind of money publicly is idiocy. You’re liable to get yourself killed.”

After a few seconds there was dead air. “Okay,” said Rick, “That was one of the wiseguys. He calls him Jayman and he is one of the ass clowns who harasses my eleven thousand members. I just blocked him, so we don’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore.”

And so it was that the emperor ignored any good advice that anyone ever tried to give him. After several hours, the person who’s garage he was crashing in started pounding on the door. The emperor turned off the camera and the radio show and answered. It seemed that there was someone in the front room for him.

“Hello, my friend and allow me introduce myself. I am Mike Dijital, and the name of my associate is entirely unnecessary as they are paid to help. I did hear tell of your dilemma, your inability to find the elusive Bigfoot and make it your bride. So, brother, I have an offer you’d be a fool to refuse. Any creature you want would be yours if only for this tattoo, my special artwork which is divinely blessed. I shall give you your seventeenth rad tat and Bigfoot will come to you.”

The emperor was so stoned from toking all night that he merrily accepted the offer. “Yes,” he shouted, “give me your rad tat and when Bigfoot comes for me, ten grand will be yours.”

“There is one catch. The tat is invisible. You’ll not be able to see it but everyone else will.” Mike turned to his associate and whispered so the emperor could not hear. “Tell Whatsisface to get the Bigfoot suit ready.”

The emperor thought of it and said, “Alright, I’m ready for your new rad tat.”

Mike took the emperor into the garage and directed him to lay down face first and pull down his pants. The Emperor was only too happy to. After an hour of excruciating pain, far more pain than a normal tattoo, Mike told the emperor that it was done. The emperor stood feeling sorely butthurt.

He called all of his subjects for another announcement.

Stay Tuned for Part II