An AAR Without a Country
Andorra!
by robou and phargle
Andorra!
by robou and phargle
This is the story of Andorra.
This is also a lie. Andorra does not exist in this story. In the years that have already passed in the tale I will now relay, Andorra has not yet begun to exist. No, this is the story of me: Ben of Andorra, and the trials and tribulations I face during my struggle to become ruler of my homeland. I must be honest with you: I am not entirely sure what a tribulution is, but make no mistake: I will face several of them. Understand that lies are about to ensue. In my bloodline is one Rob of Andorra, a strange and bizarre little cleric - also a liar - who shares my goal, if not my commitment. Despite his inexplicable lack of handsome and rugged features, and despite his inability to tell the truth where I or Andorra are concerned, he has one thing I do not, and that is another seventeen years in which to find a bride and pass on our of Andorra genes. He has many skills. Chief among them is lying.
not a liar
Because I am so charming, they made me chancellor of Urgell. Why, God, why? Why did you make me so charming? If only I were less charming, I could be Diocese Bishop of Urgell, which is a fancy and hard-to-spell way of saying that I would rule Andorra.
What? You didn't know that rule? It's a little-known rule, yes, in part because it has not yet been invented. I invent it now! Simply put, the bishop of Urgell and the king of France share a very important duty: to tap that booty. Via their combined strength, they jointly govern Andorra. Imagine doing anything jointly with the king of France that doesn't involve being queen of France, and you will appreciate my conundrum. It's somewhat like a buddy movie - er, buddy tapestry - in which Phillip and I get into zany adventures while learning what's really important: one another. Well, he has that half right. I am very important. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. . . in a very good disguise. Perhaps it is Rob, and not I, who will be made bishop of Urgell and thus rule Andorra and be queen to the king of France's . . . uh, king.
Speaking of Rob, where is that boy? Perhaps I shall write him a letter. That is, after all, at what chancellers are best: that and impeccable grammar.
Scullery maid! Fetch me a letter, a lacy apron, and a horse that knows the fastest way to Paris! Ben of Andorra has work to be done! Additionally, fetch me a scullery maid! Make sure to tell her how very handsome I am.
This is also a lie. Andorra does not exist in this story. In the years that have already passed in the tale I will now relay, Andorra has not yet begun to exist. No, this is the story of me: Ben of Andorra, and the trials and tribulations I face during my struggle to become ruler of my homeland. I must be honest with you: I am not entirely sure what a tribulution is, but make no mistake: I will face several of them. Understand that lies are about to ensue. In my bloodline is one Rob of Andorra, a strange and bizarre little cleric - also a liar - who shares my goal, if not my commitment. Despite his inexplicable lack of handsome and rugged features, and despite his inability to tell the truth where I or Andorra are concerned, he has one thing I do not, and that is another seventeen years in which to find a bride and pass on our of Andorra genes. He has many skills. Chief among them is lying.
not a liar
Because I am so charming, they made me chancellor of Urgell. Why, God, why? Why did you make me so charming? If only I were less charming, I could be Diocese Bishop of Urgell, which is a fancy and hard-to-spell way of saying that I would rule Andorra.
What? You didn't know that rule? It's a little-known rule, yes, in part because it has not yet been invented. I invent it now! Simply put, the bishop of Urgell and the king of France share a very important duty: to tap that booty. Via their combined strength, they jointly govern Andorra. Imagine doing anything jointly with the king of France that doesn't involve being queen of France, and you will appreciate my conundrum. It's somewhat like a buddy movie - er, buddy tapestry - in which Phillip and I get into zany adventures while learning what's really important: one another. Well, he has that half right. I am very important. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. . . in a very good disguise. Perhaps it is Rob, and not I, who will be made bishop of Urgell and thus rule Andorra and be queen to the king of France's . . . uh, king.
Speaking of Rob, where is that boy? Perhaps I shall write him a letter. That is, after all, at what chancellers are best: that and impeccable grammar.
Scullery maid! Fetch me a letter, a lacy apron, and a horse that knows the fastest way to Paris! Ben of Andorra has work to be done! Additionally, fetch me a scullery maid! Make sure to tell her how very handsome I am.
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