Summoning all of your kingly confidence, you give the order.
“Charge, my subjects!”
Your valiant, greasy soldiers rush bravely towards the officers, who weren’t accustomed to sudden attacks by homeless infantry. The officers, uncertain of what they should do, did what all police officers did when uncertain of what to do. They tase the crap out of them.
Your kingly confidence melts as the agonized screams of your poor homeless subjects reach your ears.
“You are the worst king ever!” You hear one of them, the hunchback, shout angrily. Ouch.
You decide to make a run for it. Hoping the commotion of the battle will distract the policemen, you charge into the fray. A crackling tase whizzes by and a homeless person thumps to the ground next to you, but you keep running. What finally stops you is the sight of Pauleen sprawled on the ground, probably tased in the confusion. With relish you imperiously stand over her, proudly straightening your tin-foil crown.
“Are you…?” she gasped, no doubt astounded at your magnificent kingliness.
“Yes. It is me.” You stoop over her and put your unwashed, unshaven face close to hers, letting her take in all that she left behind when she broke up with you. She recoiled in regret. Or disgust. One of those two.
“I believe I remember you telling me that I would never amount to anything,” you say casually, “But look at what I have become! I am a king! At my command, legions of…”
You fall silent as you feel the cold touch of handcuffs snap over your wrists. You scream orders at your subjects as you are dragged to the police car, but everyone around you either is unconscious or hates you. Do you…