Snake in the Pot

I initially wrote this humorous story when I was 11. This is just an intellectually superior  modification of it. This is the first chapter of the whole story. I hope you enjoy it :)
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Owodu village is a land of prosperity and agricultural prolificacy. It is the second richest village among the seven villages that make up the Owo kingdom.
The village of Owodu is prominent for its preternaturally portly cattle. In this land of green - it is called he land of green because of the pure green grass that spreads across the whole village - an average cow weighs six sacks of rock. This is fascinating because in the other villages, an average cow weighs just two sacks of rock.
It is no wonder that the owners of these animals are all wealthy. Just the sale of one of the cows is enough to reap huge profits.

However, let us not get side-tracked by these wonderfully plump creatures, which would look so mouth watering on a flat wooden plate; already grilled and ready to be masticated by eager teeth awaited by the tongue to slobber all over it and feel it's gravy splattered flavor. To caress its fleshy features with all fervency induced by the sight of its lip-smacking beauty.

...let us not get side-tracked, again.

Within this village, there stands a building. This building is regarded as the palace of the king - who must be referred to as the Igwe. In front of this grand palace is a stone effigy of the Igwe - a sight which must be gazed at with mesmerization.

From the firm muscular limbs to the visibly well-built emerged abdominal muscles standing below large chests of the finest quality. The statue's head is finely shaped and portrays a handsome young man laced with the facial expression of one who has all the wisdom in the world.

Now for the real spectacle, we go into the palace to see the king himself. Walking through the majestic hallway, one can only pause occasionally to view the many portraits of past Igwes which hang on the walls. These paintings were created by only the finest painters of the kingdom. This is the reason why all of the paintings are magnificently detailed and impeccable.
However, as one reaches the last portraits in the hall, one cannot but notice the diminishing of handsomeness of the Igwes in the paintings. The more one advances, the more the kings become uglier.

Now we arrive at the royal council room where the Igwe and the six Chiefs come to discuss matters of the utmost importance. This is the place where decisions are made for the good of the village.
I cannot help but notice the sight I behold, which is in disparity with the sculpture we saw outside the palace. Instead of the handsome, muscular and well-built man that the sculpture portrayed, I see a thin, almost sickly, ugly man sitting on the throne which belongs to the Igwe of Owodu. In fact, this is the ugliest man I have ever seen in my entire life.
However, he is still the Igwe; and he deserves to be treated and thought about with respect.
Is that a mole beside his lower lip?
Oh, right, respect...respect.

Luck is with us; the council has gathered once again to discuss matters of high magnitude. Let us eavesdrop a little, to hear what the leaders of Owodu are deliberating.

"Oro, how can you say that? eh? How can you say that the men who are married to women with big buttocks should pay higher taxes?"

"Yes! That is how it should be. Buttocks have always been a fancy of men of this village. It is also a known fact that big buttocks bring good luck to families and the village at large. So this means that men who have wives with big behinds would be wealthier than those who have wives with small buttocks"

A burst of murmurs made up of rebukes and acquiesces fill the council room.

Finally, the Igwe clears his throat. The whole room instantly becomes silent; for when the Igwe clears his throat, no one dares to speak.

"My chiefs, I have listened carefully to what you have argued. I think of it as a very good idea which will be beneficial to the growth of our economy. Women with bigger breasts should-"

"Buttocks Igwe...we are speaking about buttocks" Corrected Chief Obu.

"Oh yes, buttocks. I think the size of a woman's buttocks should determine how much her husband pays as tax"

All the Chiefs instantaneously rise to their feet when the end of the Igwe’s monologue was apparent.

“Your word is law, Igwe” They say with synchronization of an almost melodious tune. They take their seat after this action.

We have just seen a spectacle that very few people get to witness – the creation of a law. This is only an exemplar of the kinds of society-building oriented decisions being deliberated within the confines of the royal council room, once a week.

Suddenly, a large woman bursts into the room. She gripped her wrapper to prevent it from falling off while she scuttled in a most ungraceful manner. The extra fat that mustered behind her arms keep flapping up and down with every step taken by her fat legs.

The clothes worn by this woman, bears unique embroidery and adorned with fine accessories that only the Igwe’s wives wear. This strange pig-resembling woman is obviously one off the King’s thirty-seven wives – each called ‘Lolo’.

One may think that having 37 wives is excessive. But there would be a change of mind if one knows that this Igwe has the lowest number of wives in the history of royalty in the village of Owodu. It is no wonder the man is emaciated. How can one try to maintain such number of wives without draining himself of body nutrients and sufficient replenishment?

We go back to the current situation.

“What is wrong with you woman?” The Igwe yells in rage, “Can’t you see that I am in a council meeting?”

“My King, my King oh!” The woman bellows as she falls to the floor, at the foot of the King’s throne. The awfully round woman gasps for air, as she has obviously run a great distance.

“Why are you so wheezing like this? Where did you run from?” asks the Igwe.

“Igwe, I rode down here in a royal caravan from the royal household quarters”

“If you rode in a caravan, then why are you panting like a dog that has just run a kilometer without rest?”

“Ah my King, I had to run from the entrance of the palace to this place. It is not an easy feat”

Okay, I do not pity the lolo for her tiredness; I pity her because a person who thinks running half a mile is strenuous needs to sit down and think about her life. For God’s sake, she looks like a beaver soaked in water. I am sure that the council room is now slippery from the sweat dripping from her cow-like body.

The Igwe hisses and shrugs his shoulders in irascibility.

“Then what is so important that made you turn the floor of my council room into a river of salty perspiration?”

“My King, there is trouble. There is fire on the mountain; there is a snake in the pot; there is-“

“Is that a problem at all?” interrupts the King. “If there is fire on Ogede mountain, then the fire watchers will take care of it. Besides, I don’t see how a fire on the mountain can harm us; for it is far away from the village. As for the snake in the pot, what you should do is to fill the pot with water and put it on fire. When the water begins to boil, you should cut some pepper, tomato, onion and leaves into the pot. Make sure you don’t put too much curry or else the texture of the meat will lose its delicacy. At the end of it all, you will be left with a delicious meal of snake pepper soup”

All this while, everyone had a quizzical look on their faces. They obviously thought of how stupid the Igwe is…respect, respect.

“Igwe, I think what your wife means is that there is a massive problem. I think the mountain on fire, and the potted snake, are just figures of speech” Chief Obu corrects.

“Who are you to tell me what my wife means to say?” The Igwe says.

“Actually my King, Chief Obu is right” The Lolo defends.

“Oh, then what is the actual problem?” The Igwe asks, in a tone slightly smeared with shame at his humiliation.

“My King, your son, the Prince, has not recovered from the illness which struck him yesterday. In fact, his condition has worsened”

“And what has the medicine man said about it?” The King inquires.

“He says there is nothing he can do; and that there is a spiritual force thwarting the effects of his medicines”

“Hmm, spiritual force right? Then this means the Chief Priest has to be summoned” the Igwe says, “Chibuzor!” The Igwe calls out for the royal messenger.

“Igwe” The athletic young man responds. He had been where he always is whenever the meeting went on – standing behind the Igwe’s throne.

“How did you get here so fast?” queries the Igwe with a puzzled look on his face.

“Your Highness, I have always been behind you in this room” replies the messenger.

“Always?” Asks the Igwe

“Yes, your Highness, always” The man confirms.

“Oh yes, well, take the summoning staff and show it to the Chief Priest, so he may come immediately and resolve the problem at hand”

“Yes your Highness” The messenger acquiesces. In a second, the young man was is out of the palace; running at such extraordinary speed.

“You are all dismissed. You will be sent for once the Chief Priest arrives” The Igwe declares.

“Igwe” the word is voiced out by everyone in the room.

Soon, everyone except the King is out of the palace. The King heaves a sigh of relief and then exudes a series of loud gruffly farts from the royal buttocks.

“Finally!” The King exclaims. Suddenly, the King’s eyes brighten as if he has just made an important realization. He stretches his neck over the throne, obviously to see if there was anyone there. He is completely alone.

The King was apparently thinking of how many times the royal messenger stood quietly behind his throne, listening the reverberations made by the royal farts. All this time he assumed he was alone; there was always someone with him in the room.