The throne room was trashed, but the trashy music still rumbled on the other side of the walls. The dead bodies still waited to be removed; as soon as Roger and anybody loyal to him had hit the floor last night, the DJ had chosen the perfect piece of nu-metal to keep the crowd cool. The bottles popped, and thick purple syrup inside was poured into royal limited edition straw cups and slurped up.

“Honey, you gotta meet some of my soldiers and showgirls rollerballing in here,” called Killin Hood.

The cyborg Elizebethy the sixth had previously gunned down Roger vai remote control. She had also been muted by the same deceive. A leash carried by the man soon to take the title of King. The DJ switched to a classic disco cut,and began to spin in another record with a finesse groove. Everyone had strapped on roller skates, and spiraled around the pulsing room as the drink started to take effect. The naked girls spray painted gold surrounded the King, and Queen of the disco who kissed.

It was now morning and toilet paper hung from the chandeliers, or draped off the open balcony. It smelled like a sweaty skunk had rolled around to some funk. A lowly jester swept the floor humming to herself underneath a facemask containing air crystals. It was hard work cleaning up after the royals, but somebody had to step up or the kingdom would fall apart. She grunted, lifting yet another pair of soiled panties into the trash can with the end of the broom. It was just another day at the office, and only a fool would ever think of rebelling against authority. The only other person here still alive wobbled on the top of a ladder. Above his head he had painted over the famous art commissioned of the previous King puffing a hookah and covered in crystals. He painted on a massive K composed of different types of camouflage on each arm and leg of the typography. It was woodland, desert, urban, and snow represented the tundras the kingdom controlled.

“Does this thing work… testing,” screeched an amplified voice traveling from far outside.

“Yes, your majesty, you sound very much like a king,” cried the gathering of Bootlickers, clasping their sensitive fish ears that worked partly off echolocation.

“That’s because I am a King,” boomed Killin Hood.

“Better than King you are the supreme emperor,'"they stammered.

“That’s right, now it's time to take a break and have lunch with my wife”, he said.

“MMMMMM,” cried the three toadies getting to their knees, licking their lips, and eyeing the clubbed baby seal skin boots worn by their new master.

“Fuck off” he scolded.

Killin Hood pushed them out of the way by jumping over the drumset, grinding on the stage monitor, and jumped off the stage, and began rolling down the red carpet that rolled the length of the massive arena, behind him one technician was rigging the lights on the ceiling, while another had the grand piano torn open for servicing. A half dozen divas were acting like mean girls clawing each other like cats. While a million empty seats of the coliseum would soon be roaring with applause for the most baller marriage ever conceived.

The three suns scorched at noon. The underlying ground was sand filled with bones, while sweat ran from the burnt faces of the burnt constructors of a gazebo in a corner. The concentrated heat had already killed 50 workers, and 569 animals (including slaves). With the super sunscreen rationed out that cost him a fortune someone must have stolen it for profit, thought the ruler who had three days to before being officially crowned.

The arches covered in pretty flowers had gone sour, and one had even caught on fire. A flatbed truck had entered through the main gate carrying the replacements adjourned with crystals, but the ginormous crystal disco ball was big enough to wreck the place once it was mounted to an industrial crane to cast the festival in colors.

“Now where's my pretty thing gone, I’ve got so much crystal she will have an overdose,” he laughed to himself walking into a shady tunnel.

The path lined with torches led deeper underground. A malnourished rat tried to run for cover, but was crushed underfoot on the wet floor.

“HAha”.

The lights dimmed. Killin Hood approached an ancient door made of glowing runes carved in gold, and crystals adjourned in spirals. He pushed open the entrance using the hole drilled through the lock, and entered the guts underneath the arena. Straw covered much of the ground of the sprawling place filled with cages containing tigers, lions,bears, but the biggest was empty. In another section the skeletons of boats sunk when the arena had been flooded were in various stages of repair for the next round.

He kept on past the matted lion that roared, and the howling monkeys swinging from tires nailed to telephone poles in their domed cage. A growling in Killin Hood’s stomach mixed with the thousands of growls emitting further down the block. The next door creaked open into the dark. The groans, moans, and shrieks picked up.

“Now there you are dear, I thought he somehow regrew your brain and escaped my clutches” he called.

This underground area resembled a sprawling slaughterhouse mixed with a prison complex. Zombies were rotting chained by the thousands in little pens. They were dressed in the same crappy armor worn when they had first competed in gladiatorial shows. The air smelled ranker than any battlefield, and maggots ran wild everywhere the eyes dared look. Vermin ran across the floor with other scavenging animals at the light of his flashlight. Killin Hood had to take a break for a few dry heaves.

Queen Elizebethy the 6th stood in the center of it all feeding the horde from the palm of her hand, and they also licked her attached chainsaw. Her dress was a bloody mess, and her hair was worse in shape than the nearby stripper zombie. Several empty five gallon buckets surrounded her while the zombies that could reach them licked them clean. A fresh bucket popped open revealing that it was filled with guts. She lifted out a fresh brain and swatted away the dead chick with no manners.

Her fingers started to sink into the gooey gray matter that sploshed onto her fiance's suit. He brushed it onto the floor and pulled away his leg as a mouth chomped at his feet. Meanwhile she held out her hand and began to feed the next in line.

“Grrr” grumbled Killin Hood following, and punching away anything that got too close for comfort with his studded crystal knuckles.

He pulled the remote control out of his other pocket, and had her throw it far away. She turned and hobbled back to him as the zombies fought like pigs.

“I must keep my subjects happy,” she said.

“It’s ok dear, I've got a very special present for you to follow my lead,” he said, dropping the device, and taking her hand.

“Smack!”

An armored zombie knight painted white had tried to come between them and gotten his face bent in. She kicked the severed head into a basket with her roller blades.

“Nice shot,” said Killin Hood, as they walked out the door.

The elevators were tricky to find, and took them almost an hour to locate. It turned out they were hidden in the underground parking garage filled with muscle cars outfitted for death races. The bell rang and he opened the metal gate like a gentleman. They rolled inside and looked at the rocks behind the glass window. Killin Hood pressed the button for the arena's royal penthouse apartment, and balcony. The elevator began to rumble as it quickly climbed out of the dark basement, and then through the roof of the lobby. Soon they could see the grounds being worked on by an army sized crew, and even above the smaller walls of the coliseum to the surrounding capital. A giant K had been constructed and his, and her giant statue had begun at the feet.

“That’s our new logo baby for Killin company” he bragged.

“Ding!”

The elevator had arrived, and they rolled inside. The room was a massive rectangle with another the same side hung outside. The kingsize dining table, able to seat a hundred, was filled with fancy food. Outside there was a glass swimming pool where you could see the games while cooling off. A canopy could be rolled over the entire thing to keep away the heat. The water was manipulated by the wind as they stepped on the deck, and looked down.

The screeching of wheels that needed lube interrupted them. A covered box was rolled toward them by three golden girls skating behind it.

“Now here's the main course specially made for your love,” he said.

The cover was lifted revealing a fuzed massive combination of every crystal that sparkled. A card in front of it revealed that it had won a certification for biggest, and most valuable ring ever at over 1 zillion value.

The Queen was speechless while she bent to inspect it.

“Oh my bad,” said Killing Hood, unmuting her again.

She had started licking it in ecstasy, and stroking it with her free hand.

“Watch out you're going to scratch it” he scolded, holding back her chainsaw.

“Sigh no brains let me put it on you” he said, pushing her buttons.

Killin Hood struggled, and grunted trying to lift the massive ring. Eventually he controlled her into opening the clasp and wrapping the hoop around her waist. It perfectly fit her hourglass figure as he locked it shut. It functioned sorta like the biggest belt buckle ever made. A set of controls were built in to work the powers.

“I think I love you,” she blurted.

"Well I would hope so, it's a good thing that you haven't gotten too big or small on me and it fits like a glove" he cooed, stroking her hair turned white while she stroked her wedding ring.