GarGar listened intently as the Imperial Ambassador spoke. He did his best to obey Pirouette’s instructions to remain calm and quiet throughout the ambassador’s address, but he found it increasingly difficult. The ambassador’s butchery of the court tongue was hard bear, but it paled in comparison to the catalog of lies that issued forth from his painted mouth. His brand new shoes were a bit too tight and his feet began to cramp. Leaning over to one of his lieutenants, GarGar whispered, “I don’t know how much more of this I can bear.” The lieutenant’s face made an expression of sympathy, but what could he do? He just shrugged.
“We’ve got a word for people like you where I come from!” Shouted GarGar. “You’re a spruiker!”
Having lost his train of thought, the ambassador began to sputter. “Wha- Wha-” was his confused response to the interruption. He pointed his folded fan at GarGar and began to launch a verbal assault of his own at GarGar. GarGar simply snatched the ambassador’s fan away and gave him a poke in the chest. “I know that I am not alone in feeling disgust with your Imperial lordship. I’ll not say another word.” GarGar bowed at the old King and stormed out of the room, followed more than a few other courtiers.