The Shrub of Malapropia
Once many years ago, as I sat anear the placid lagoon that was my erstwhile home, my attention was drawn to a disturbance in the otherwise languid pool. There a violent commotion was taking place between several of my dolphin companions, an otherwise peaceful lot, with much splashing and high-pitched shrieks of cetacean anger and distress.
   Striding decisively to the water's edge, I called out to my friends and inquired as to what had reduced them to such barbarity, as it was obvious on closer inspection that the object of their discontent and rancor was one of the younger males, a normally inoffensive and merry lad with whom I had enjoyed many hours of briny jocularity and amusement.
   I was then informed that this selfsame youth had acquired the obnoxious habit of crying out day after day that great white sharks, my friends' only true enemies, were invading their irenic lagoon. Were this truly the case, his prudent tocsins would have fallen on responsive earholes, but as it was simply a rascally dido, he had at last aroused the ire of his clan, hence the beating he had just received before my very eyes.
   Calming my watery companions with a word and a stern look, I sat down on a palm trunk and told them this tale, my eyes focusing most often on him who had initiated this uproar:
  
   "Once upon a time," I began grimly, "there was a king named George who ruled a splendid kingdom and large. His realm was the wealthiest and most powerful on the earth, his armies doughty and undefeated in battle, his subjects blissful and well-fed. No war had come to their sunny shores in living memory of the eldest graybeard. 
   "One day, however, King George heard rumors of war far from home, in a desert kingdom across the sea. Fearing this might upset his well-guarded trade routes, as the oil from these kingdoms was highly prized and vital to the life of his realm, he set out to do battle. But first the loyal citizenry were apprised of the monstrous evil of he with whom they would soon lock swords. 'He kills babies,' they were told, 'and soon our own shall sleep in fear, for he is a madman who will stick at nothing. Moreover, he has a deadly alchemy that he will unleash upon us if he is not defeated apace.' The loyal subjects cheered as their armies marched out the gates and into the setting sun.
   "The desert kingdom was promptly defeated, being both out-manned and out-armed, the weaponry of King George being both legendary and fearsome. The desert king's armies were utterly vanquished and he surrendered forthwith. Yet over the years, King George grew restive and cursed himself for not killing the desert king outright. His advisors kept the population atremble with dread tales of the secret alchemy now growing again in dark chambers, a weapon too horrible to name. Every day the people heard of new evils, and fear grew.
   "Years later King George ceded the throne to his son, George the Second, known as the Shrub of Malapropia. Though only having held the scepter a short while, George II was challenged by a mighty evil, an attack on his very shores. Many died and grief was unchecked and bitter. George the Younger sent his armies forthwith with vengeance to destroy those who had perpetrated this horrendous act. Great havoc and catastrophe he caused throughout the suspect region, though the object of his rage escaped unscathed. Victory was trumpeted, yet he was not satisfied.
   "In his mind's eye he saw the desert king, still alive, still enthroned. 'He must be destroyed,' he said to his counselors, mighty men of valor so grand no military service could do them justice. 'Leave it to us,' they replied. Soon the kingdom was abuzz with dread tales of the desert king's evil alchemy and the looming threat of his imminent invasion. Criers told frightening tales of a growing power in the East and unspeakable menace waiting to pounce. Minstrels sang of hideous potions that would soon be rained down on the terrified citizenry if the desert king was not dispatched once and for all. The people of the kingdom cowered in fear as the armies again mustered for war. The choice was but action or death, which was no choice at all.
   "So again the great kingdom sent forth its power and attacked the desert king. Yet when the armies entered the evil city, they found not weapons of hideous cunning and mass destruction, but ill-fed peasants with neatly arranged piles of stones, which they now began to cast at the bewildered army. Was this the threat that for years had caused the strongest among them to quake? Was this the deadly alchemy that had been the stuff of nightmares? Slaughtering the remaining peasants in a trice, the dejected army returned to its own shores.
   "And so it happened that one day a real foe of great power and unflinching evil threatened the kingdom, but the people would not heed the king, his counselors or even the minstrels. They no longer believed they had an enemy to fear or a reason to fight. They were conquered and disappeared from the pages of History."

   My dolphin friends had remained in rapt attention throughout my sad narrative, hanging on my every word. Now the silence was overwhelming. "You understand, don't you? It's a variation on The Boy Who Cried Wolf! Everybody knows that story!" Still my dolphin companions cast puzzled looks at each other and myself. "Oh, it's so simple! Surely you understand!"
   My dolphin companions looked at each other with sudden understanding. At last I saw in their laughing eyes a spark of enlightenment. At that they swam off and slaughtered every other dolphin clan within a thousand miles.

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