S-Type Jaguar

2011-07-16T06:05:00.000-07:00

Hi You, welcome to S-Type Jaguar

Enjoy your visit

This is a nice crisp photo of Creampuff the S-Type Jaguar

Picture of me wearing my crown (I'm the true King of France and Holland)

This would be the Royal gourmet dinner on a vintage plate

I get touchy at times and I'm hard to deal with..

Since this a small Kingdom, I often go out and collect taxes and fines myself in Creampuff the Jaguar

I'd set up a road block and wait until a subject happens along, then I'd hit them with the tax or fine.

My subjects can be very sneaky and devious in their futile efforts to escape my taxes and fines but I hunt them down like a bloodhound.

Sometimes my subjects try to bribe me with little treats to gain favor. They know I can't resist a cupcake but if I eat more than 5 at a time, watch out! See the six cupcakes? The little buggers are tormenting me.

The fine for tormenting the King is 100 brass washers (our monetary unit). The subjects always find a way to evade the fines as they are a sneaky people. They will say: "We have no brass washers, beloved King, how about some juicy figs instead?" I fell for that one far too many times. In my Kingdom the figs are ether green or gone. Oh how they'd rub their tummies and smirk!

To add insult to injury, my subjects brought me a cat. What they didn't tell me was they searched the entire Kingdom for the most diabolically evil cat they could find and then stuck me with it. In the picture, we are trying to purge the evil from the cat.... didn't work.

To make up for getting me a totally evil cat, knowing I'd be stuck with it forever (we have strict laws about cats in my Kingdom), they said they'd get me a date since the last Queen ran off with.... (I refuse to say that name) Well, that didn't work out. See what a loveable old King got in the Royal Mail? Oh, the pain...

I was a lonely old King, rattling around in my Castle, clawed up by the Royal Kitty, scorned.

I actually cried (just the way my father, the King before me taught me... I'd wave my arms and scream, I'd get all worked up. That's how a King cries. I close my eyes so tight you could hear both of them make a squirting noise. To no avail. Poor sad old King. (and down to my last billion brass washers at that)

Every thing that in the past made me happy now seemed strange, bizarre, creepy, strange (did I already say that). Can't be too careful. The fine for repeating yourself is 15 brass washers and I have to pay the same as anyone (Darn that Council of Elders)

In short, I was a nervous wreak. I needed a Queen, a QUEEN!! I became obsessed.

I already was touchy and defensive and paranoid. Now I became insufferably aggressive. I had to watch it cause there is a fine in the Kingdom for that also. Oh woe!

So I wouldn't get out of hand and run anyone down, distracted as I was, they took away Creampuff the S-Type Jaguar and gave me a little electric scooter... a HCF Pacelite 707 to be precise. I had fallen so low in mind and spirit. I want my Queen!! My eyeballs again would make that squirting noise and the subjects would treat me like a pathetic, wounded brat.

Everybody knew I kind of liked the pretty flower girl but, seriously, she was way too young for me and she had a way of giving you that look that said: "Back off, King unless you want some serious trouble. Anyway, kind and sweet as she was, she was not the one for me.

I tried to tell myself that I, the haggard old King, was actually, maybe a not so bad looking guy, even a a playboy. That made them snicker down in the Royal Court

I could stand it no longer, I needed a loving Queen, nothing else would do. So I broke down and went to the old witch of the forest for help. Peculiar to her was that, if she thought you were a pain in the butt, she would appear, only to you, as a rather scary black dog. Not unlike the Black Dog of Peel Castle on the Isle of Mann. My story is that I encountered a wise old witch, no black dog, and I'm sticking with it.

Any way, the witch of the forest said that if I gave away half my treasure (1/2 billion brass washers) and put ashes on my head and kissed a toad, I could go down to the old Cork Tree and there I would meet the future Queen.

Of Course, I was joyous and declared a national holiday. There was one cravat, the witch informed me. The future Queen needed to say 5 magic words so I'd know she was the one for the old King. She then whispered the words in my rather large, floppy ears.

Eagerly, I scooted down as near I could to the old cork tree then trotted the rest of the way. My knees were wobbly. Nothing.... no one there, just me, the sad, pathetic old burnt out King so, I waited and waited and waited and waited and waited. It rained and I waited, it snowed and I waited, the sun parched my skin, and the wind blew stuff all over my craggy face but I waited. And then? What the heck? The most beautiful woman ever to grace the Kingdom suddenly appeared. I was smitten instantly! Instantly, I tell you! (even though I feared the worse, that she would not be the one and wouldn't know the five magic words that would prove that she was to be the Queen.

I approached her cautiously. She knew I was the King but displayed the surly indifference typical of my subjects if not somewhat more forcefully that usual. Then, again, what the heck? She said the five magic words!!!

"What are you starring at?"

The End

See toys below

More of the Old King, Farrell Hamann (visual artist/writer)

_/\_ (to left, Witches hat) Facebook

Emerging California Artist, Farrell Hamann (like a larva, haha)

Latex rubber mold made by artist to cast 12 1/2 inch spiral marble toy

My email

Phone number in Sacramento, California: 916-641-7696

(I also can help you with writing projects with some notice)

Knight of the Imperial Order of the Opossum (IOOTO)

Church of the Blue Moon/Moonbeams on your Naked Booty

Story of the Exalted One who was abducted as a young boy by the evil Captain of the Polar Cyst, a dark ship of no known flag. Also read about his adventures at the School for Bad Girls and The Lone Camel of the Desert.

Mosaic eggs sculpture by artist/writer, Farrell Hamann of Sacrameto/Montecito, California