# Courtesy of Google Image
Prompt: Look, somebody has to make a decision.
Barton threw his boot across the stage from his fake throne. “I want to be one of the musketeers.”
“What the matters? Why people don’t appreciate a good role anymore.” Caster, the director, answered from the theater audience, sitting on the soft cushion chair. “What do you want? You are the king of France.”
“Musketeers are more appealing to me.” Barton jumped down the stage. “And you know that.”
“Look, your face is good for a king’s role. I don’t see a problem here.”
“Put me as a musketeer, Caster.” The man pulled his weapon. “Or look for another kingly persona.” He slashed the cushion from the adjacent chair .
“No. Cannot do. You are the king and that’s my final word.” Caster stood up, throwing his fist through the air. “And if you don’t like it, brother, the door is over there.”
“You’ve decide it. That’s it?!”
“Look, somebody has to make a decision. I am the boss here.” Caster stamped his foot on the floor.
“You want that way. I give the king to you.” Barton sheathed his sword and jumped back on the stage.
“Places, people.” Caster continued directing from his seat. “Act 7. Start over.” He clapped his hands.
The whirl wind came, shaking the stage.
“What did you do, Barton?” Caster laid on the floor, holding on to the chair arms.
Everything else went still.
Caster raised to see where were everyone else.
The drama actors laid on the stage, trying to hold on to something.
“What was that?” Caster clapped his hands again. “Wakey- wakey!. Let’s finish this act, people.”
All actors took their places, still confused what just happened.
“And action.” Caster sat on his chair.
“How dare you defile a king?! I am the King of France.” Barton stomped his feet, trying to remember what his script said. “Guards! Guards!” The fury dripped through the king’s body, in every movement he made. “Take him to the dungeon and execute him.” Barton’s voice unleashed the power of the king’s order.
“Good. Very good.” Caster clapped his hands. “I knew you can to that!”
Suddenly, the theater doors broke down and five guards rushed into the room.
“Where did you come from?” Caster moved to them. “You ruining my act.”
Barton pointed at Caster. “Take this impostor from my eyes.” He tried to read the script and missed what just happened.
“Vive le Roi! Oui, Your Highness.” The guards picked up Caster and left the room.