Leicester Tale

          Once upon a time... there lived an evil king who reigned over all of England. Actually, he wasn't so evil, it's just that everyone was against him. And that can make a person a little mad, that's all. Anyway, this king always got the short end of the stick. People were always spreading rumors about how bad of a guy he was, and making up stuff about him being a cripple. As you can imagine, the king was very upset about all this. He hired an artist to portray his likeness in a painting and it was beautiful... until a bunch of snot-nosed kids decided to deface the painting, turning him into a hunchback.

          "Seriously now! What did I do to deserve this?" Asked the king. Then he cried himself to sleep, as he did almost every night. Nobody loved him. Actually, no, somebody did love him; his wife, the Earl of Warwick's daughter. Ahhh isn't it nice how everything just kind of comes full circle? Well, he was never appreciated. Being the youngest of eight children, you think he would be used to this by now. Most people accused him of being a child-killer though, which even I think is a little harsh considering the lack of proof. Poor, poor king.

          "You are not the rightful heir to the throne!" Cried the gentry.

          "You are a conniving, lying fool!" Spat one of the king's best "buds," Henry Stafford, which just goes to show you that friends in those days weren't worth much.

          "Run away. Run away and never return," snarled Scar.

          Anyway, Henry Stafford, that double-crossing back-stabber, sailed to England to dethrone his "friend" but a rainstorm made him turn his ships back around, serves him right. Still, a bunch of guys managed to form a rebellion and the king was called for battle in Leicester. Sulking about his ill luck and misfortune, the king decided to see a very wise and very famous seer in the town before the battle.

          "Oh wise seer, please, tell me some good news. Frankly, I don't know if I can handle another let-down," the king grumbled. The seer swirled a hand over a crystal ball and said:

          "You will trip on the way into battle, and you will bump your head on the same spot on the way out." The seer glanced at the king. "Sorry," he added as a footnote.

          "Son of a bitch!" Cried the king. Glumly, he headed off to battle. Passing over Bow Bridge, he promptly tripped and fell in the mud.

          "Oh I'll show them! I'll show them all!" He shouted. But no, he wouldn't show them all. Not long after, he was surrounded and killed by the rebellion.

          But even in death, there was no escape for the pitiful king. The rebels threw his body unceremoniously over a horse and preceded to carry him back over Bow Bridge. As the seer predicted, his body slipped sideways off the horse, and his head hit the same spot where he stubbed his toe. He was buried at Greyfriar's Church, but about 50 years later his body was dug up by a bunch of idiots and thrown in the river.

          Today, a monument stands to commemorate this king; the last English king to die during battle. He was given a mighty sword and a handsome shield... but dumb idiot kids broke off his sword and threw it in the river. Then his sword was replaced by another sword, and that sword was broken off and thrown in the river. So now, he holds a tiny dagger. Thus is the story of poor Richard III of England, who has a statue in the castle gardens. And college kids pass by his statue and laugh at his tiny sword.