The Emperor and the Egg met through a hole in the stone wall that divided their kingdoms. Though they were neighbors, the two had never met, since all their treaties and trade agreements were conducted by emissaries. Thus, their meeting was a happy accident, as they instantly discovered they had a lot in common.

They both felt superior to those they ruled—wiser, stronger, slyer, more intuitive, and infinitely more attractive, and both felt deserving of adoration and great wealth. But they were lonely, as those they deemed worthy of their confidences and favors were in short supply. Therefore, it was no wonder that they soon developed an affection for each other, and planned to further their relationship in a week at dusk, where the wall was highest, many feet above the hole where they spoke. It would be a difficult climb, as both were pampered and out of shape, but as the wall had been scaled many times in the past by malnourished prisoners and peasants, they felt they were up to the challenge.

***

Naturally, the Emperor wanted to look his best. So, he summoned his designer and asked him to create an ensemble of silks and velvet for the meeting.

“Colors,” your Excellence?”

“You choose. You’ve never disappointed me in the past. But tell that seamstress to do it quickly!”

“Yes, your Excellence. Thank you.” He bowed and hurried away to give the seamstress her orders.

***

On the other side of the stone wall, the Egg was making similar requests. However, as his huge torso was fragile, and couldn’t be clothed, he called in his favorite artists to adorn it with liquid gold, clothiers to fashion satin sheaths for his spindly legs, and cobblers to shod his tiny feet in suede slippers.

***

The seamstress wanted to spit when the designer delivered the Emperor’s orders for a new outfit. She knew it would mean numerous private fitting sessions during which she would have to endure the ruler’s lecherous advances without protest. It also meant, if she were to be done with the garments on time, that she would have to work continuously, on whatever paltry foodstuffs she was allowed, and no sleep.

She resigned herself to the misery, and vowed to get revenge.

***

On the appointed day, the designer brought the finished garments to the Emperor early in the morning for his approval and any final alterations that might be necessary.

When the Emperor had dressed, he gazed at himself in a mirror, turning this way and that, and said. “My, my.”

The designer bowed. “You are pleased, Sire?”

“Such rich hues, fabrics that caress, indeed. You may go.”

The designer went off to deliver the news to the seamstress and dismissed her for the rest of the day.

The seamstress curtsied. “Thank you, Sir,” and as soon as he was gone, hightailed it out of the palace.

***

The Egg was delighted with his body paintings, as well as the sheathings and slippers for his legs and feet. And, when dusk neared, he slipped on his favorite leather hunting gloves, and headed for the stone wall.

It was an arduous climb, but somehow he made it to the top without a scratch, thanks to the rough texture of his slippers and gloves, whereupon he sat to rest.

Unfortunately, the Emperor’s patent leather shoes and satin gloves did not grip the wall’s crags as well as the Egg’s, and as soon as he was about to hoist himself to the top, his toe slipped, leaving him dangling from the edge. The Egg panicked, and reached down to grab a sleeve of the Emperor’s fine velvet coat, but a loose thread got caught between his thumb and forefinger, and the stitching on the entire garment unraveled.

As the Emperor’s coat fell away, the Egg reached down again to grab a silk shirt sleeve, but again the stitching unraveled and the shirt drifted to the ground, where a group of villagers formed.

“Look!” One of them pointed, and gasped. “He’s going to fall!”

The Egg made one last desperate attempt to save his friend by rolling onto his torso and reaching for the waist of the Emperor’s leggings, but the second he got hold of it, the waist and leggings fell apart and floated away, leaving the Emperor’s bare behind swaying in the evening breeze.

By this time, the Emperor’s guards were running to the scene with a ladder. The Egg tried to right himself, so he could climb down to the safety of his own domain, but couldn’t do it, and rolled off the wall onto the stone path below him.

Instantly, his shattered remains were surrounded by his subjects, who used whatever objects they could to scrape up his innards and take them home to feed their families.

Meanwhile, the guards rescued the naked Emperor, who screamed for the seamstress’s head all the way back to the palace.

Of course, the guards and minions (because what ruler worth his salt doesn’t have minions?) searched every inch of the Emperor’s realm for the girl, but never found her, which eventually drove the Emperor mad. It’s said he spent his final days muttering to himself and checking to make sure his waistband was fastened.

***

Now, what kind of trim did you say you wanted on that gown?

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