Three Chairs On A Porch: Two Kings & A Jester

Welcome back, Modern Philosophers, for another installment of “Three Chairs on a Porch”.  I didn’t expect to get so much positive feedback from last night’s first installment, but I want to keep my readers happy so here we are back again.

The interns didn’t have much time to get two guests together for today’s edition, so I hope you don’t mind that I’ve asked one of my neighbors to take a chair.

Luckily, the Ghosts who live in my attic have excellent connections in the Afterlife, and they were able to help me fill the second chair.  The way this works is I invite two guests with something vaguely in common, and I allow them to ask each other one question.  I sit in the third chair, drink my Snapple, and enjoy the conversation.

It’s another absolutely beautiful September afternoon in Maine, and a perfect day to chat on the front porch of The House on the Hill.  Please help me welcome today’s guests.  From Egypt, by way of the Afterlife, say hello to King Tut!  And hailing from Bangor, just a couple of miles from this very porch, it’s Maine’s other famous writer, Stephen King!

The two Kings engaged in a little small talk, having never before met, and then Stephen insisted on asking the first question because he felt that actual royalty deserved to be the focus of our attention.

“King Tut, I have so many questions for you, but I know I only get to ask one,” the prolific author gushed like a fan boy.  “First of all, welcome to Maine.  I know it’s not Egypt, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing considering the political climate in your former kingdom at this time. ”

“I’d like to ask about something that I know will interest my readers and Austin’s.  What’s it like in the Great Hereafter?”

King Tut smiled broadly.  I’d like to make it known that King Tut’s Ghost appeared as the 19 year old he was at the time of his death.  It was at his insistence, however, that I used a photo of his famous burial mask for this article.

“Thank you, Stephen and Austin, for inviting me to this wonderful kingdom of Maine,” King Tut answered in a voice that was much softer than I expected.  “It has been a long time since I have been invited anywhere to speak, and I am honored to be your guest.  I find great humor in this pairing of Kings.”

I blushed at the compliment and nodded my thanks, unwilling to interrupt a member of the Royal Family.

“The Afterlife is amazing, humbling, lonely, exciting, and quite the adventure,” the Boy King continued.  “There are so many tales I can tell you that I am sure you can use in your books.  I have seen so much, and almost all those things have shocked and surprised me.  I was raised to believe that I would be buried with my treasures and beloved felines so that that the Afterlife would not be lonely, and I would continue to exist in the luxury to which I’d become accustomed.”

“None of that is true, my friends,” Tut shook his head and wiped a ghostly tear from his eye.  “As the saying goes, you cannot take it with you.  Of course, you know this as it has been nearly 100 years since my tomb and all its treasures were discovered.  This confused and upset me at first, but over the past 4000 odd years, I have gotten used to it, although I do still miss my cats.  You have much to look forward to when your times come.”

It was King Tut’s turn to ask a question, and I was unsure of how this would go as I had no idea how much he knew about Stephen and his career.

“As for you, my new friend, how do you come up with all these fascinating ideas for your stories?” King Tut asked sounding very much like a fan boy himself.  “I have read all of your books as reading is one of my favorite ways to pass eternity.”

My neighbor chuckled at Tut’s comment.  “It’s good to know I’m being read in the Great Hereafter,” he began.  “I need to talk to my publisher about collecting the royalties.”

King Tut laughed.  I laughed.  I took another sip of Snapple and did my best to stay out of the way of this meeting of the minds.  Truth be told, I’m a huge fan of Mr. King and really wanted to know the answer to my other guest’s question.

“The ideas come to me in my dreams, while I’m walking down the street, as I’m watching the Sox game, and pretty much any time I eat,” King explained with a shrug of his shoulders.  “I’ll be just minding my own business and then Whammo! there’s a new idea in my head.  I’ve got notepads all over the house and always at least one on my person along with a pen, and I scribble the thoughts down so I don’t forget them.”

“I really couldn’t tell you what sparks them, but I have my theories.  Let’s just say, I think I am blessed with multiple muses, most of which walked this world long before I ever learned how to put pen to paper.”

The Kings are both still out here on the porch.  I’ve moved my chair over to a corner of the porch so I could write this article and get it up on the blog for you to enjoy.  As soon as I post it, though, I’m right back there eavesdropping on that most remarkable conversation.

Thanks for joining us on the porch.  Hope to have you over again real soon.  As always, I welcome suggestions on future guest parings for this feature…