[Dedicated to Ravenwind from whose vision this story evolved]

Once upon a time there was a boy king, who captured a few prisoners and placed them on a deserted island.  He was desirous of a magnificent robe, the likes of which would frighten his enemies and make him appear all powerful.  Alas, on the deserted island there were only a few pitiful sheep.  Mired in their own offal, their wool became awful with stench.  From this wool, however, the prisoners were forced to spin thread and weave cloth, which was made into a robe for the wearing of the boy king.  "Mission Accomplished," said he!  And pranced around in the ugly, befouled robe with its matching, odious knitted scarf.

Indeed, the awful, offal smell of the wretched robe did put off his enemies, who fled from the scent, whenever the boy king wore the robe.  And the unsuspecting one said:  "Mission Accomplished!"  Again.

Long, dreary years passed and the deathly, greedy, destructive yearnings within the yarn, and born of his evil deeds, worked their way ever into the heart and soul of the boy king's policies, as the people saw more and more clearly his own black deeds - and nothing else - covered the naked body of the perverse adolescent regent.

It seemed that nothing would ever save the populace from this terrible situation.  Until one day there came a tall young man into the kingdom.  This man, ridiculed by the courtiers as "black" and "dangerous," nevertheless won the hearts of the people.  And in spite of all the evil tricks tried by the courtiers, the tall, thin, plainspoken man, who lifted the people's hopes and encouraged them to dare to raise their voices in the pursuit of freedom and justice, overthrew the boy king in a single day - in spite of the supposedly powerful robe, which was made to frighten and subdue all enemies.

The day came when the new guy took over.  And all the people cheered as the boy king stepped down from the throne.  However, by custom, the deposed one was obliged to sit through a speech before he could leave.  A speech from the tall, thin plainspoken guy.  The speech was of such power that people hung on every word.  And right away, word by word, that speech pulled on a loose end of the deathly, greedy destructive yarn with its foul stench.  It left a gaping hole in the robe.  And people could see there was really nothing there - except the odious boy king's nakedness, as he fled from the robe and the scarf and the booing people, who loudly cheered their liberation.

You'd think this was the end of the story.  But no.  What began as a thread unraveling continued day by day, as every day yielded new unraveling of the grotesque robe and its wretched matching scarf.   The fetid yarn was gathered up daily.  And it seemed to multiply, as if it had a life of its own.  As the people demanded more and more of the truth.  And Justice cried out to be served.   Some people called for a huge bonfire to burn the wool and eliminate the stench, which grew by the day as the tortuous yarn unraveled.  Others insisted, that no matter how foul, how awful the offal stench, how wretched and deathly its appearance, of necessity the people should face - without flinching - what previously they had feared and loathed.   That facing that, they would grow stronger.  And justice could be served.