80. "The Phony King's Speech"
Some would argue the timing of it was completely asinine; it was a Monday afternoon and most people would still be at work. But in the mayor's head, this meant that the information would disseminate throughout the rest of the day and week; people would catch it on their news websites as they ran out the clock at the office, they'd hear it discussed on local news radio as they commuted, and they'd talk about it with their friends and family when they got home and their colleagues the next day. Furthermore, if he waited even a few hours more, he might lose the nerve. And he just didn't want to work past 5.
Of course, he showed up late, but he was the mayor and who was gonna stop him. The members of the press were falling asleep waiting, and they were all surprised at how relieved they were to see him when he finally showed up. The lion took the podium of the press room, the rhino and the weasel waiting off to the side. Prince John was actually a tad nervous; if this wasn't delivered well, it could make him look like a weak leader. And that was just what his assistant wanted.
That said, credit where it's due: after almost a decade of governing, Mayor Norman knew how to project confidence where he didn't have it. He was dressed as a successful person should, complete with his top hat fastened in place with Scotch tape and bobby pins. Showtime.
"...Good afternoon, citizens of Nottingham," he spoke, clear and strong. "I thank you for joining me on this fine summer's day! I was hoping to enjoy it myself, but alas… all is not well in our fair city. And as its mayor, the obligation falls on me to keep my people informed.
"As many of you are aware… there was a bit of a debacle at one of our fine city's entertainment establishments over the previous weekend. Wherein a stand-up comedian made jokes at my expense, riling up the crowd to the point of madness. Let me begin by saying that I… completely welcome criticism of how well I'm performing my assigned duties! How else will I know if I am fulfilling my role satisfactorily unless my people tell me so!?"
Professionals that they were, the audience of news reporters collectively resisted the urge to gag at that remark. None of them bought it.
"However… the head policeman in this city, formerly Chief of the Municipal department and now Sheriff of Nottingham County, Eddward C. Woodland… was in attendance that night, and he was of the opinion that no quality of dissent is enough to justify what he perceived as rowdy behavior by a large group of people. He arrested the comedian on the charge of inciting a riot.
"I must stress, however: I do not agree with his decision, and furthermore I perceive it as an infringement on the comedian's First Amendment right to freedom of speech and assembly. Therefore I encouraged his department to give the comedian, after he was apprehended, the option to let all charges be dropped if he agreed to decline pressing countercharges. At first, all seemed well, and it was believed he'd signed the agreement - but upon closer inspection, it seemed that the comedian, clever mind that one must have to succeed in such a medium… never actually signed it. He had simply flicked his wrist about while holding the pen provided, the legal equivalent of crossing his fingers behind his back."
The faces in the crowd visibly soured, even the ones under orders from the publications who employed them to spin anything Mayor Norman said in a good way. Yeah, that seemed far-fetched, all of them were privately calling bullshit.
And yet that wasn't complete bullshit. It was only a little bullshit. They'd carelessly given Kellen Huffman a shitty pen that was basically out of ink and now the document looked like it had never been signed at all. Completely unplanned, but when Prince John realized that was an avenue he could pursue, he pounced on it. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than good.
"Truthfully, I commend the effort! 'Twas a clever tactic worth a try, and he may have gotten away with it had we not been possessed to take the document out of the filing cabinet before he had the chance to find a lawyer to take his case. Truly, it was worth a try. Unfortunately… it did not work, so now we find ourselves in a sticky situation. But…! In this life, I seek to be a fair man. Therefore, for the benefit of the wrongly-arrested comedian, I will be leading this city in an effort to assist him, together, as a community."
You could just about hear the sound of all those eyebrows squiggling in confusion.
"The man's name is Cullen Hoffman, and because he was falsely arrested by a representative of the county, in conjunction with Commissioner Doty Roe, I will be implementing a temporary tax across Nottingham County to fund Mister Hoffman's legal fees, both for a lawyer to defend against his ridiculous charges and a lawyer to press charges against the police department for a vulgar display of power."
The brows stopped squiggling. Okay, yeah, that was absolutely something this cat would pull. It was absolutely a front for embezzlement, Commissioner Roe was absolutely not in on it, and it was absolutely something that should not confuse or surprise any of them.
"I would like to thank this city's and county's citizens in advance for their contributions to help their neighbour. But there is something else I feel compelled to mention here today. It will be no balm to the victim and his fans and his family…"
And then things got weird: after delivering the first half in a dull, formal tone, the lion suddenly got a touch more chipper.
"…but there was a reason for Sheriff Woodland's hasty actions, yes yes! And I am here to share those reasons so that the citizenry can better understand what is going through the heads of this city's leaders, and to assuage any fears that such a fate as what happened to the comedian might befall them. You see, my dear citizens… what set Sheriff Woodland off was… the sheer iconoclasm that Collin Hellman represented in his rebellious speech about me."
John Norman did not use the word iconoclasm correctly. The journalists all knew this because they all had to take innumerable English courses to get their degrees, but they recognized it because they were all paying the utmost attention.
He was giddy that he was actually doing this, the nervous energy and the excitement of vindication making the mayor a tad twitchy. Doing what he could to contain his smile, he tread forward carefully:
"You see, my citizens… there are people in this city who call for my head, quite literally. Sheriff Woodland was acting out of the presumption that Cullen Hudson was in league with such people. There exists… a gang, of sorts… who have taken it upon themselves to wreak havoc in this city and its environs in the name of bringing me down. This havoc, to be more specific, has endangered countless lives and victimized many, many innocents, this gang believing that targeting those who they target will - symbolically or otherwise - be a strike against me."
The crowd was agape. Some of them knew who he was talking about, some of them didn't, but none of them knew how much information he was about to divulge.
"The targets of these attacks are frequently those perceived to be wealthy, and this has been persisting for years. And yet, for a great many of you, this will be the first you're hearing of these rebellious rapscallions. This is because the victims of these attacks… often, understandably, fear the effect such news will have on their reputations. When the victim is someone of high stature, they don't want to appear vulnerable, they don't want to appear stupid. Having grown up in such a circle where any little thing was a reason to smear someone's character, their fears are entirely valid.
"But this will invariably beg the question of why myself and other authorities would refrain from telling the public about such… characters. Some will accuse us of being derelict of duty for not warning our citizens of such a threat, and that is a sentiment I must acknowledge as valid. Rest assured, however… I have my reasons.
"Firstly, there was a utilitarian aspect to the decision to remain mum - which is to say, I know how those of a certain rung on the economic ladder think. They will think they're far too smart to fall for such trickery as these… outlaws, for lack of a better term, like to employ. Furthermore, such people maintain their circles; if there was a source they would listen to, it would not be myself, but rather one of their peers, so a warning would only have been good if one of said peers chose to disclose what they knew of such criminals. I can say in good faith that I do not believe my declining to speak publicly on the topic has led to anybody being victimized who otherwise would not have been. But then, there was also… another reason. Tell me, my citizens: do we not all have that one person in our circles we want nothing to do with? Someone who we fear may tarnish our images by association even when we've done nothing worse than being unfortunate enough to have an un-severable tie to them?"
The reporters all made sure their recording devices were working. This was getting weird, and they wanted to make sure it was documented as such.
The lion fished in his breast pocket and extracted a sheet of paper folded many times. He placed it upon the podium to unwrap it and flatten it out before holding it up to the audience, who still had trouble seeing what was there on the standard printer paper, but it was admittedly much better than the mayor's first idea to show them a Polaroid. The grainy image had been captured on a contemporary cell phone camera, but the reporters had decent contemporary digital cameras, and when they zoomed in, they could make it out decently through their viewfinders. It was an image of a vixen, a candid image of her doing nothing in particular, evidently taken without her knowledge or permission. And she was sporting a very noticeable bruise.
This was the hard part. "Some of you may recognize this young woman as… my brother Richard's goddaughter, therefore I regard her as my god-niece. As you can clearly see… she's suffered an injury to her face. That injury came courtesy of her long-term romantic partner, who is the leader of the group of rebels."
The room was speechless for a second, until - because it was so quiet - you could clearly hear someone in the room mutter incredulously to themselves, "Wait, what the fuck?"
"For years and years, the bandits have dared me, dared me to jeopardize my reputation by publicly announcing that I am related to such a character, even so tangentially. But it was seeing what this… scoundrel has done to someone I love… that gave me the strength to finally do it.
"For reasons I do not fully understand, there are many in this city who adore the criminals - hence why Sheriff Woodland was afraid that Kelly Huffington was one of them. Such people… trust the leader of the outlaws… as had my god-niece. But unfortunately, she has found out the hard way… that his charm is fraudulent, and not to be trusted. I fear that many in this city will soon be given a startling awakening that they were also wrong to trust him."
The press who knew who the Merry Men were found themselves speechless that the big pussy had finally found the cojones to pull the trigger; the press who had no clue what he was talking about, well, still had very little idea what he was talking about. But off to the side, Charles Hess was doing all he could to keep a straight face. This was going horribly, and he was loving every second of it.
Prince John extracted another sheet of paper; this was the poster of Robin, the one with only Robin, the one designed to send a message to the bear that he was not important so as to sew the seeds of resentment towards the fox in him - an operation that, unbeknownst to City Hall, was actually showing signs of promise.
"Some of you may have seen these posters posted around the city, though I'm afraid that, understandably enough, many of you have been simply too busy to stop and scrutinize a sheet of paper with exhaustive information to read. Therefore I would like to take it upon myself to read it on your behalf. For the uninitiated, I wish to introduce you… to one Robert Edward Hood, though he'd much prefer to be called Robin."
And so he proceeded to give the fox's stats and a brief biography, listing what he looked like and what he was known to do. As he did, people all over town who had their TVs on to the news reacted as they would.
For some, it was just more cynicism towards politics.
"So we agree, the guy socked his niece in the face, and now he's making up some criminal and blaming it on him?" asked the ram salesman in the breakroom at DeVos Motors, a used-car dealership in Cherry Stream. "I mean, look at that picture of the guy, that handsome fuck's clearly some model, that's probably a stock photo they found in ten seconds on Google fucking Images!"
"For me, it's the part where he says this guy's been around for years and he's just telling us now," added his impala coworker. "'Oh, hey, this guy's been around forever and I'm only telling you now because it's convenient for me,' kiss my ass. If he really was withholding that information all this time… hoo boy, that might be a worse look than giving that lady a black eye."
"Hey, Terry!" the ram called out the doorway to his vulpine colleague, who'd stormed out of the breakroom at the announcement of new taxes. "The mayor punched a girl in the face and he's blaming it on some super-criminal fox he just made up!"
"No shit," Terry called back from the showroom, presently devoid of customers during the mid-afternoon lull. He was Windexing some windshields, having no interest in looking at the screen currently bearing the face of his tenant. "They hate us 'cause they ain't us."
Some responded to the news with anger.
"John, you ASSHOLE, you don't show pictures of WOMEN with BLACK EYES!" Doty Roe hollered at the small television on a portable cart in her office. She'd just returned from her conference with the City Council in time to see Mayor Norman say he had her blessing to implement a new tax that she had never blessed but now would probably be blackmailed into retroactively blessing; she didn't need this.
But after a moment, she was able to convince herself - more for her own sanity than her actually believing it - that Prince John was actually a victim of his own terrible understanding of females since he'd surely never been lovingly touched by one. And once she reached that level of clarity, it opened another door of understanding for the topic the lion was speaking upon.
"...Is this why he's such an asshole?" the doe asked as she gazed at the wanted poster on her screen.
Some were overwhelmed with the joy of validation and the fury that what the bad thing they were right about was being declared right.
"I knew it!" Amanda Foote seethed at the television, the children in the daycare she'd made of her home keeping their distance as the rabbit was frightening them with her fits of passion. "I knew that fox was no good, he tricked me and he tricked a lot of other people, but now we're seeing who you really are, Robin!"
"Miss Amanda?" asked the young red kit, carrying a stuffed bunny as he timidly approached. "Parker said that my fur is red because it's covered with the blood of all the people foxes kill."
"Shut up, Kenny!" Mrs. Foote barked, nearly foaming at the mouth. "And give that doll back to my daughter, I know you stole it!"
The small boy looked like he was about to cry. "But Tamera said I could play with it-!"
"Little boys shouldn't be playing with dolls anyway!" Amanda spat as she grabbed the plushie and ripped it out of his hands - just for the kit's claws to rip the bunny.
Nothing severe, nothing a sewing kit couldn't quickly remedy… but a sign of violation all the same. The only thing keeping the rabbit from going off on the little boy was the knowledge that some of these kids' parents were beginning to grow skeptical of whether she was mentally stable enough to be taking care of children.
"...Tell your mother she needs to cut your nails," she growled in a low voice.
Not saying a word, the five-year-old turned and ran away, hoping Parker wouldn't make fun of him for sobbing.
"TAGALONG!" Amanda yelled; a moment later, her youngest child appeared before her. "Here, take your doll back."
Only three people still called Tamera by her old nickname; her oldest sister, her mother, and the fox she faintly remembered helping her family before he was told not to show his face around there anymore. Privately, Tamera and her siblings still thought Mr. Hood was a nice man, and their mother's change of heart was frightening them, but none of them dare say that. The six-year-old bunny took her doll and went back to hiding where she couldn't hear her mom yelling at the TV. Tagalong had indeed granted Kenny permission to play with her stuffed rabbit since the fox didn't have any plushies at home and liked having something soft to keep him company, Kenny saying one day he'd have a real friend just like that bunny. Tamera didn't have much of a need for it anymore anyway; she used to pretend it was the big brother she hardly remembered either, but as she grew older, tricking herself wasn't quite as satisfying as it used to be. You know, if she was remembering her numbers right, she was almost as old as Skippy was when he had to go away.
Some found the news a tad alarming.
"Oh! Uh… do- do you think that's real?" Dr. Fort asked his colleague as the two doctors were standing by the nurse's station on their floor, where the television behind them was broadcasting the news with no audio but the subtitles on. "I, uh… guess we should watch out for these guys!"
The rhino physician was neither worried, nor interested, nor impressed by the Saint Bernard in any capacity. "I mean, if you'd fall for a schemer like this…" he shrugged and walked off. "...Guess the guy who graduates last from medical school still graduates."
The nurses giggled, not caring that Geoff was still right there. Fuming, the dog walked off, but rested assured that at last one of the city's wealthy weren't fazed by the news broadcast, and standing resolved to nominate Dr. Neuse for a housecall the next time he talked to Robin and Johnny.
Some were confused.
"...Did he?" Sarah McQuillen asked herself, having just woken up to get ready for her second-shift job. Robin didn't seem like that kind of guy, but guys that that often don't. And Prince John didn't seem like a truth-teller, but broken clocks and all that. But she didn't have time to think about it; she was busy. She flipped to a rerun of Unsolved Mysteries on Lifetime as she got ready for work.
And some still were simply disheartened.
"Ohhh, boys," Otto moaned at the tiny TV he had in his tool-and-die shop to break up the drudgery of the day. The old dog knew how long the Merry Men had been tempting this specific fate; he knew what this signified and symbolized. "You boys be careful, now."