III. Gajandra and the Eating Lesson
One day Jutu stumbled upon the young Gajandra, lying under the Ban-Ban tree in his father’s garden and holding his expanded belly in great torment.
“Oh Jutu, what have I done? Why does my middle section torture me so?”
“What did you eat, Master Gajandra?”
“Only some curry and Burri flake pies.”
“How many curry and Burri flake pies did you eat, Master?”
“Only one!”
“But how large was this pie?”
“Only half an arm’s length, wise Jutu!”
“Hmmm. And did you drink anything?”
“Yes, Jutu — Half a liter of Mug Rootbeer mixed with Diet Pepsi.”
At that, the old attendant squatted down to be closer to the young swollen master, and told this story:
Once, in a village older than sand there was a little boy whose father had great wealth and power. One day the little boy stumbled upon the kitchen, where the servants were preparing the great amounts of food necessary to feed the large numbers of important visitors and guests that his father was expecting at the next day’s Ramagupta Festival.
When he saw the servants mixing the curry for one of the dishes, he asked, all a-flutter with the greed of a young boy, “Servant! I demand that you allow me to eat that curry!”
“But young master,” protested the servant, “this curry is for your father’s festival.”
“Tis no matter,” lied the boy, “He has instructed me to come down here and taste the curry to make sure it is up to his wishes, since this is a very important festival.”
“As you wish, master.”
And the young boy greedily slurped up all of the curry that was warming in the large iron pot. It was than that he smelled the delicious odor of Burri being roasted in one of the stone ovens.
“Servant!” he cried, “When will that Burri be finished cooking?”
“It will be finished in half an hour, young master.”
“Deliver it to me now, so that I may taste it to ensure highest quality, as my father has instructed me to do.”
“Yes, your highness,” said the servant, and she delivered the giant sheafs to the little prick for his pleasure.”
“Uhhhh, excuse me for interrupting, Jutu, but did you just say ‘little prick’?!”
“No, no your highness,” I said “little prince.”
“Oh, then please continue.”
The boy ate gluttonously, devouring the entire mass of Burri sheaves. He then had the boldness to enquire, “And what of desert? What are you preparing?”
Delicious Parri berry pies, your highness, but the Parri berries have not yet arrived. Right now we only have the flaky crusts in their dishes, awaiting arrival of the berry pickers and their sweet bounty.
“Then I shall taste the crust!” he gleefully declared as he leapt toward the pie crusts and lustily fed his face. “Now I’m thirsty,” he cried out, after he had eaten all the crusts. “What have you to drink?”
“But your highness, you have eaten so much, and partaken of food that has not been fully cooked and so has not risen to its full size. I fear that if you douse your stomach’s contents with liquid, you will release the expanding power of the solid food, and you may explode!”
“Nonsense, you silly knave! What is there to drink?”
“Well, we’re serving Mug Rootbeer and Diet Pepsi, along with Mango Lassis. I know what Lassis taste like. Allow me to test the flavour of the foreign food — the Beer Root and Pezzi.”
“The servants brought the bulging boy his beverages and the greedy bastard consumed all.”
“It wasn’t long that — ”
“Jutu! I know for a fact that you just said ‘Greedy Bastard’ Tell me no lie — is that what you said?”
“Oh, no Master Gajandra, please forgive me. Your swollen belly must be playing tricks on your ears. What I said was ‘feeding hazard.’ ‘The feeding hazard consumed all.’”
“You better not be lying about that, Jutu.”
“I assure you, little prince, I would no more embellish the truth than would yourself.”
“Then go on.”
“Soon after the fucking fat little shit finished his feast — ”
“JUTU!!”
“Yes, master?”
“Oh, never mind...”
“Yes....after suckling the last little sip of beverage, the boy retired to his father’s garden, hoping to sleep off his indulgement.”
“His father’s garden?”
“Yes.”
“I’m in my father’s garden now.”
“So you are, Master Gajandra.”
“The young boy lay beneath a Ban-Ban tree and gazed upward at the heavens.”
“Hey! I’m lying under a Ban-Ban tree!”
“So you are, Master Gajandra.”
“The first rumblings of his expanding contents came from his abdomen. Exploding gasses excaped the little prince’s pottie exit. He looked down and noticed that his royal midsection was now quite rounded and painful. He rolled side to side a bit, hoping that the movement would postpone the pain. It only made it worse. Bubbles as strident as those at the Three-headed waterfall at Madras stomped about his stomach. Powerful expansion pushed aside his pancreas, liver and lungs, as his pounding belly grew two, three, four men high. He screamed in pain and shock as he saw his belly grow to the size of two houses.”
“Jutu — what was his name?”
“Whose name, master Gajandra?”
“The naughty boy who lied so that he could pig out?”
“Oh, his name was ‘Bajandra,’ sire.”
“At any rate, gallons of semi-digested curry began oozing from his pores. A wild pony happened by, but the methane from a chance fart immediately suffocated it to death...”
“Enough, Jutu, enough! I get the point!”
“But we haven’t gotten to the explosion part yet — then a wizened old, handsome attendant stopped by the nasty boy and began telling him a story.”
“SHUT UP, Jutu! And promise me you’ll never tell me that stupid story again.”
“I promise, sire, that I will never tell you this story again...so long as you never give me cause to...”
“Ohhh,” he groaned, “alright. Now go and fetch me some Digel, will you?”
“Yes, little prick.”
“What did you?-- Oh nevermind...”
