One time Louis XIV snuck out of France and went on holiday to Holland. He knew he'd never fit in with his own wardrobe, so he stole Colbert's clothes. Because, to be cool in Holland, you gotta look like a good banker. He had decided to travel to Holland after he met a Dutchman on the internet who he thought sounded like his spirit animal: Goldmember.
During their last chat, Goldmember told him: "Hey, I have something gold that gets me even more bitches than you! Isn't that weird?"
Curiosity and jealousy were too strong to be ignored, so now Louis found himself on a boat headed to Amsterdam, where a child next to him kept giving him suspicious looks. Only the child was short enough to catch the occasional glimpse of Louis's bright red stockings secretly hiding beneath his Colbert façade... Slowly sliding over 'til he was sitting right next to him, the child leaned over and whispered, "You aren't Dutch, are you?"
Louis' face blanched; had he been recognised?! Not daring to face him, he muttered, "What do you mean? Of course I'm Dutch!"
"No you're not!" remarked the child; "You smell like crêpes!"
THEN SUDDENLY FROM AROUND THE CORNER, A GIRL WITH GARLIC AROUND HER NECK APPEARED.
"Did someone say crepe?"
For a long moment, there was a morbid, very dead silence on board, broken only by her eventual utterance of "Au revoir!"
There would be no crêpes served in the boat's cafeteria that day. Louis was secretly relieved: he knew he wouldn't have been able to resist a crepe, and his cover would have been blown. When they finally pulled into harbour, he was starving and irritable. 1 plate of food was absurd! Who eats like that?! He hoped his wealthy friend was more reasonable. But how to find him? He couldn't speak Dutch!
The child who had spoken to him earlier was once again eyeing him, and whispered, " hey, frenchie, you need some help?"
Louis thought for a moment before grudgingly conceding, "Fine. You win. I need to find someone." His voice dropped lower, "The Goldmember."
The child snorted.
"Oh I can help you find *him*. But it's gonna cost you, and I don't come cheap!"
For once, an annoyed Louis felt right at home in his Colbert disguise. As he reached into his pockets, he was struck with a moment of confusion. He didn't actually understand the value of money. Colbert was always shouting about this and that many livres, but he tended to tune him out. After thrusting a handful of coins into the child's hands, the boys eyes lit up.
"God, you REALLY want to find this guy!"
"Look, just take me to him", stated a growingly impatient Louis.
"I can take you to see Goldmember-"
Louis broke in with a SHHH!
"-but first you're going to need a better disguise!"
Flabbergasted, Louis retorted, "Are you kidding me? This outfit is more Dutch than a still life of chocolate sprinkles!"
"That's the problem pops!" the boy replied. "You're the least Dutch person ever. Besides, where we're going, you're going to need to look like a *different kind* of Dutchman…" he continued with an intonation to raise curiosity.
"And just what kind of Dutchman should I look like then?!"
The boy giggled and then pointed to what can only be described as the spitting image of the modern Amsterdam male gigolo. Louis' jaw literally dropped. He liked showing his legs off, it's true, but the tiny scrap of fabric that he imagined to be some form of legless breeches intimidated him. Not to mention the other strange articles of jewellery and the frighteningly ugly jacket.
"You must be joking; no one could possibly wear that abomination!"
The child shrugged.
"I guess you're not as serious as I thought. It's the only way I can get you in."
Louis stared at the hideous suit, then muttered with downcast eyes, "alright. Bring in someone to get me changed."
The boy gave him a funny look. "That's silly! Who has other people dress them?! Only *babies* need that!"
"HEY. I'M NO BABY!" Louis spat.
"HA! If you're not a baby then prove it!"
Louis furiously began fumbling with the buttons of his suit, struggling to fit the tiny black things through the buttonholes. (How does anyone managed this?!) he thought to himself. No wonder there were so many people who helped: they probably each had to train at their craft! With his elbows propped up on his knees, the boy amusedly watched this strange little Frenchman take literally forever to remove his simple black coat. When he finally removed it, the boys eyes widened at the glittering spectacle that lay hidden beneath. Louis eyed him cautiously. Surely now the boy knew his true identity, and would treat him with a bit more respect! Instead, he laughed, "shit, that's a lot of buttons! With how retarded you are, this is gonna take all night!"
Not since he last fell in the swamp back in Versailles had Louis felt so very irritated. It's little wonder why kings never leave their realm, thought Louis. But then he remembered what was driving him. Some Dutchman claimed to have more gold and bitches than him, and AWWW HEYYYLLL NO, he wasn't going to let that be true. Fumbling at twice the speed, he managed to peel off his golden raiment and squeeze in to some PVC leopard-print shorts that left his cry of "abomination" somewhat of an understatement. Hopping down off the bench, the boy looked Louis up and down (which made him extremely uncomfortable, as he had never been so unsure of his own appearance) and nodded.
"Okay, you're ready. Follow me."
Motioning Louis onward, the two made their way down a small corridor unto they happened on a strange metal door, where odd sounds that Louis perceived to be some kind of music permeated through. The boy turned to him and said solemnly, "He's in there. I can't go any farther, this is all you." Out stretching his hand, he added, "Good luck, frenchie. I hope you get whatever you wanted."
Louis took the outstretched hand as a request for more money, so he threw a few more coins at the boy and notioned him away before turning back to the door. Well, this is it, he thought. He pushed open the door. The music instantly grew louder. It was quite foreign sounding to Louis. Lully had never performed anything quite like this before.
#It's gold, it's gold, it's gold, yeah baby is gooold yeah#
He took a few steps. Suddenly, "FREEZE SHUGA!" And Louis did just that.
Foxxy Cleopatra towered over Louis, staring him down with her hands on her hips. He was in total shock. The only black people he had ever known were slaves that barely spoke, and now this one addressed him so aggressively! Bearing in mind the strange culture of the Dutch, and not entirely understanding what she had said, he bowed politely and said, "escort me to your master, goldmember, if you please."
Foxxy's eyes lit up with rage; "MY MASTA?! DAFUQ? Who the hell yo white ass is tryin' to come up in here?! And what kinda white boy think he can pull off a mother fuckin fro?! You ain't no disco queen!"
Disco. Louis had heard the term before. Goldmember had once mentioned it was like the Dutch equivalent of ballet. Concerned that his dancing skills were being questioned from what little he could understand, he recoiled.
"Ahem, I'm the greatest dancer to have ever lived", Louis remarked.
"HONEY, POLL DANCIN' IS THE ONLY DANCE YO TIGHT ASS IS GONNA GET INTO WEARIN THAT," laughed Foxxy. "But since youse are guest, I gotta a little treat fo' you sweetie."
Foxxy threw open a second door and the music grew even louder. The room before Louis was dark, with coloured lights emanating from a strange silver chandelier. Neon lights spelt "DANCE PARTY".
"If you can beat our reigning champ in the disco competition, I'll take you to Goldmember."
The champ, a young Bob Ross, stepped forward. He spoke in a slow, mellow voice, "Well hello there, friend. Let me just welcome you to dance along with me this evening. But bear in mind, disco is creative, a fine art. Ballet...well son, that's like painting by numbers."
Stripping off his coat, Bob walked out onto the dance floor, and proceeded to execute a series of such sporadic and incomprehensible motion that Louis felt his head spinning. How different it was from his structured, beautiful ballet! But he could show him. Ballet can get just as, how you say, funky as any disco diva routine. Still, something didn't feel right. He just didn't feel empowered to do ballet like he did back in Versailles. What was wrong? Then it struck him. When he was forced to dawn his beastly butt-slutt costume, the boy had made Louis remove his signature four inch heels. No wonder no one respected him! He stared at his feet hopelessly.
"What's wrong friend, need some shoes?"
Ross slid a pair of gold platforms towards Louis. Now these were some shoes that put even those at court to shame! Suddenly, Louis felt a second wind in his sails. With his renewed vigour, Louis boldly stepped onto the stage. He allowed himself unbridled freedom to move his hips and head in ways he never had. Chest heaving, he smirked at Bob, who's face had lost some of its colour. "Well? Is it clear who the victor is?"
Bob stood up, and solemnly walked onto the stage. "My friend, you've done well. But, I don't lose easily. I have another foe you must face."
Hearing a slow clacking on the floor, Louis' mouth hung a gape as his opponent stood before him. It was a chicken, specifically a chicken of the sort that grows Afro feathers on its head. A techno-style beat quickly started, and the chicken cocked and bobbed his head from side to side. As the beat picked up, his tiny legs pranced. The surrounding crowd erupted with cheers! This chicken put the moves on like no man possibly could. When the song finished, the chicken suddenly became more violent, flapping its wings and clucking loudly at Louis. He recoiled somewhat frightened. This chicken made it clear *HE* was the king.
Louis was in shock. Never had someone dared to intimidate the king of France before. Certainly not a creature of such size. Picking the chicken up in his arms and grinning smugly, bob said, "Well, I suppose it's time you go back to wherever the hell it is you came from."
"Not quite, mon ami."
Louis knew there was no way HE could beat his feathery foe, but he knew someone who could. Holding his arm, he summoned a small black bird. The chicken bob was holding began to cluck amusedly.
"A crow?! Son, everyone knows crows can't dance."
Louis grinned knowingly. "You're right, they can't. But this little is no crow."
As he hopped off his masters arm and made his way to the stage, the crowd fell silent as his feathers spread. It was a bird of paradise. Bob gulped. He was done for.
**Author's note: Honestly, I'm just going to skip the next few lines. There's no person on this planet who could properly capture the stunning performance of a motha freaking bird of paradise in words. NO ONE. So do yourself a favour and go look that shit up on youtube. Seriously. Put the book down. Now. It's worth your time. Trust me. And Dumbledore had a headache... OKAY!? STOP FLAMMING U GUIZ**