I wrote a Christmas story this year. However, I didn’t get to perform it. So I decided to post it instead.
The Carol of the King by Kevin Alan McGill
There was once two young people.
One had a talent for using words to create a sense of wonder.
The other had a talent for using musical notes to create a sense of passion.
One day they heard about a wandering monk. This monk spoke of creating a better world through acts of charity, kindness, and non-violence. This monk had, of course, been put to death for teaching such nonsense.
The two young people said, “We must make a song about this monk so that his message will be remembered.”
And so they did.
Those who heard the song were inspired by this possibility of a better world.
Eventually the song came to the attention of a third person. This person lived in a castle built upon the labours of others. This person had a talent for believing in his own self-importance. We will call him “Sociopathic Narcissist”, SN for short.
SN ordered that the two young people be brought before him. He had them chained to the floor.
He told them that he liked their song very much. He told them he would like it much better with a few changes.
He wanted the song changed so that the monk aspired to be their King. Oh, and that ‘better world’ stuff would be gained through obedience to the King and his earthly representative, SN. He wanted the story to continue to make people feel good, to feel good about serving SN.
If the two agreed, they would be unchained, fed and allowed to live in the castle freely.
He left the two young people to think it over.
The one said. “But the monk’s message wasn’t about serving a King. It was the very opposite. We would dishonour his life and our talents to inspire people to such actions.”
The other, being more practical, replied, “Yessss, and yyyet, we will not be honouring the monk’s message nor the gift of our talents chained away starving in a castle dungeon. Perhaps, as our talents and our hearing about the monk were mere chance, we could let fate decide the future.”
“You mean,” mused the one who was starting to get hungry, “We could tell the basic story with these new additions and people themselves would see through the contradictions?”
“How could they not?” huffed the other. “I mean, it’s so obvious!”
So they agreed to SN’s terms, changed the song and indeed wrote several more. They ate regularly, shared some food with the other prisoners and treated people nice.
And others did see the contradictions. Yet they too wished to eat regularly so it took many generations of submission to SN and SN’s descendants before the beauty of the original story overcame the sociopathic narcissism of the King story.
And in the end, maybe leaving the story to fate had its advantages.
After all, it led to each generation deciding for itself which story they would believe – The Monk’s or The King’s.
And so it goes today.
Merry Christmas
Kevin Alan McGill 