The Last Word

I, the blue one, I’m looking down at that Tutankhamen thing that’s separating me from you and wishing it would stop hurting my chin. And I’m wishing my off-the-shoulder was on-the-shoulder, as it should be; wishing you’d stop willing it off me. And I’m wondering: if my other half really is to be you, how can I make it work?

I, Pharaoh, am entirely sure of myself, although she’s got something she doesn’t seem entirely willing to give. I want her blue hair for my Khepresh, my blue warrior crown, and I will have it. All of it. I’m pretending to look into her ear as I pull off her hair and I must admit I’m surprised to see what I don’t want to hear. She’s quite determined. Not malleable. What to do?

I don’t know what that large lipstick-thing you’re holding is doing between us. You’ve probably put it there to soften me up. It’s obvious you want something from me and you’re trying to pretend you don’t. I’m pretty sure it’s my hair, you’ve already pulled some of it out, so you’re holding that lipstick-thing there to distract me, but I’m onto you.

I’m whispering now, telling her how beautiful she is. It usually works. But, I hate to admit it, I’ve been whispering for a while now and it isn’t having the usual effect. What to do? Stop talking and listen? To you? Really? Ask you to turn towards me? See what you have to say? But I thought I was Pharaoh-boss. Heavens, you're beginning to smile ... .

If you want my blue hair for your Khepresh and if you want me for your Great Royal Other Half, then a bargain must be struck between us. Order me a Crown like Nefertiti’s (to hide my baldness after you’ve taken all my hair) and, because I'll have sacrificed my hair, you'll sacrifice your non-stop whisper-talk.

You’ll have your blue warrior helmet and I’ll have the last word. Always.