Miscommunication
by Hushicho
It's so annoying, thought Lotor as he lathered up the fine shampoo in his long
white hair. Those stupid Doomites whine about everything.
It had been the most recent time that had irritated him more than any previous,
however, when he had learned from Cossack that the soldiers were now complaining
about lack of morale.
Morale! What did they need morale for? All they were supposed to do was follow
orders. He rinsed the suds from his hair and then took down his comb, putting
the conditioner on it and then brushing it through his long pale locks.
The steam rose around him in the shower, and although it was the temperature of
the water and not his frustration, he liked to think he had a small part in it
anyway. As he put his shimmering mane under the water once more, cleansing it
again, he kept repeating the scene in his mind. Stupid Cossack! He'd have given
him the boot long ago, if it were up to him.
Well, maybe not, he relented as he started to rub the soapy sponge on his chest.
Cossack was, at the least, faithful to the end. That was more than he could say
for most of the others, chiefest of all Merla.
He shuddered to mention the name, even in his thoughts. What a huge hairball
mess that had turned out to be. But he quickly banished it from his mind and
continued washing himself off. This was his favorite part of the shower, because
he got to admire every single part of his body.
Not that he considered this particularly vain. He just liked looking at himself.
He worked hard for that body, and by damn he intended to enjoy it, even if
nobody else seemed to want to. Foam shoulder pads indeed! They thought he
wouldn't hear about that...
After a brisk rinse-off, he pulled his towel off the rack and started to dry
off, then took a step out onto the nice, warm, fluffy bathmat. He insisted that
his bathroom not have a tile floor. That way, he wouldn't have to be jarred from
his half-asleep state when he had to tinkle in the night or freeze when he
stepped out of the shower. He could just walk along blissfully, relaxed, on that
lovely comfy carpet. And the others thought he wasn't that clever! Hah!
Stepping over to the sink, he glanced into the mirror briefly.
"Morale this!" He flexed a little bit, winking at his reflection. Then it
occurred to him suddenly; maybe all his troops needed was a little bit of a
morale booster.
And what better booster than their prince himself? He had been working a little
harder recently to tone that lower back, and his shoulders were superb. It just
might be the best idea he had ever had, on reflection. If they saw that their
prince didn't slack off, that he kept his body in tip-top shape, it would be
like those old heroic legends they could aspire to, except that Prince Lotor was
right here, right now!
Yeees, he thought to himself, rubbing his hands together. Something sensitive,
yet powerful. And what could combine those two quite so well as a
tastefully-done nude shot? He would speak to someone immediately.
***
"Lotor's been running around like a wild animal today! I wonder what's gotten
into him?" Zarkon lounged along his chair, almost sidelong. He looked bored,
unsurprisingly since the day had been otherwise unexceptional.
Haggar peered over at the king, leaning on her staff. Coba, as usual, draped
over her arm, held next to the sorceress' chest. The cat always seemed to be
such a complement to whatever she happened to be doing.
"I can't say as I know what he's busied himself with," she offered, looking out
towards the hallway. "But I'm sure it must be some idea he's got into his head
that seems sensible for the moment."
"For the moment," the King echoed. "I hope it's not another of his harebrained
schemes to overthrow me and kidnap Princess Allura. I've about had enough of him
trying to get that stupid woman up here. I keep telling him, all he has to do
is--"
He stopped as Cossack strode into the room, offering a wave at first, then a
bow. "Your highness! I'm here as ordered!"
"Good, now what I wanted for you to do was to--"
And again Zarkon found himself cut off.
"Father!!" Lotor hurried in, all smiles, eyes sparkling. He was wearing his
finest outfit, minus his favorite helmet. "I have it! I have the very thing to
eliminate the low morale plaguing our troops!"
Zarkon sat upright on his throne, partially due to Lotor, mostly due to Cossack
being there. He felt he should give at least a decent impression in the presence
of underlings. "This I have to see."
"As you know, the morale of our troops has been slipping. No more! I, Prince
Lotor, in my great wisdom, have found the very thing to inspire, nay, to strike
with awe, those under our command! They will see that they have among them and
above them a hero, like unto a god, who struggles as hard as they do. One to
whom they can look up, to whom they can aspire to emulate!" He glanced over at
Cossack. "I hope you're listening."
"Oh yes, my prince!" The man hurriedly nodded, giving a respectful bow.
"So I will unveil my plan!" Lotor turned to the door. "Bring it in!"
It took the men a moment to wheel in the veiled form and then leave. The Prince
stood there a moment, and then he grasped the cloth in his hand. "I present to
you...the hero of Doom!!"
With a snap, he snatched the shroud from it, to reveal the poster in all its
glory. An ornate gold frame surrounded it, thick and obviously expensive. This
one, too, leaned on a stabilizing foundation. Overall the presentation was nice.
But Zarkon couldn't stop from staring at the picture itself.
There Lotor stood in it, naked as the day he was born, looking over his
shoulder, one hand holding a towel, the other hand giving a little gesture
which, he presumed, was of assurance. Some words were printed in the top left:
"Brave soldiers of Doom, look upon your heroic Prince Lotor and be inspired. You
only need behold him, and then you will know what you must do! For
yourselves...and for Doom!"
"Well?" Lotor asked, a little breathy, obviously excited at the reception. He
looked to the other faces in the room. He could see that his father was at least
not instantly disapproving, Haggar was looking away, and Cossack was staring.
"Are you in awe, Cossack?"
"Well, er," the commander stumbled over his words. "You could say that, sire..."
"I don't understand why you're nude..." the King finally managed. "Is there any
particular reason? I mean, in my day we used to have pictures in our full battle
regalia..."
"In showing how strong I am without any armor or weapons, father, it shows how
powerful I am, how hard I work on my body! And they can aspire to that
themselves, seeing that I don't just lie around idle! They will idolize me!"
"Yes, but are you sure you want those guys to see you naked? I mean, you're
always complaining about suitors as it is, don't you think this might cause
there to be more of them?"
"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make!" Lotor dramatically replied, flicking his
hair over his shoulder.
Cossack just stared, first at the poster, then back to the Prince.
Lotor put a hand on his hip and looked at the commander, realizing that he
hadn't let Cossack finish his earlier statement. "Yes? Do you have something
else to add?"
"Well, er, my Prince...and please don't think this is really a criticism..."
"Out with it, Cossack!" Lotor snapped, growing slightly annoyed. It had been
such a good day, too.
"Is there any way you could do a different pose?"
Lotor looked up at the poster, then slowly back at the commander. "What would
you suggest? A full frontal shot?"
"N-no, sire!" Cossack stammered, and although he tried not to sound scared,
failed miserably. Deep inside he knew that Lotor just might do it. "What I mean
is...er, your hand..."
"Yes, what about my hand?"
"Well, y'see, er...before you send these out to our troops, I thought you might
want to--"
"But I've already had them sent out! I had hundreds of them sent out to our
troops at once, to inspire them!" Lotor spun around, throwing his hands out in a
grand gesture. "Once they receive them, they'll know how their prince loves
them!!"
Cossack sighed. "In more ways than one. Because y'know, to the common folk in
the area I come from, what you're doing with your hand is, uh...it has a
meaning, and people don't tend to do it that much...at least not most
people...and it means, uh..."
The Prince turned around, a slight chill running up his spine. He hadn't thought
of hand gestures meaning different things for different regions. "Yes?"
"Well, uh." Cossack winced inwardly. He hated being the one to tell him. He
really did. He should've just kept his mouth shut. It wasn't like most of the
troops didn't have that impression of the Prince already, but...
The commander put a hand over his eyes and, in a very small voice admitted it to
the room.
"'Cornhole me good.'"
"What?!" Lotor felt the room spinning. He had sent hundreds of these out!
Hundreds!! And with the speedy courier he'd ordered, they'd be to at least a
dozen outposts by now.
Zarkon wasn't sure whether to laugh boisterously or to shout. On one hand, it
amused him to no end to think that this bold nude expression of his often
self-opinionated son would be interpreted by the majority as a desperate plea
for particularly personal intimacy. On the other, he knew it would only further
demolish his respectability in the eyes of his troops. Then again, Zarkon
reflected, it couldn't really fall too much more. He opted to go neutral on the
whole thing and just laugh after Lotor left.
"Go have those ridiculous posters brought back. And next time do your homework."
Meanwhile Haggar had vanished, ostensibly to retreat to her laboratory and laugh
privately there.
Lotor finally got his bearings, then wheeled around to point to Cossack. "You.
Come with me."
"Wh--me?"
"Yes you. You're going to be the next poster's subject!"
"What?! Why, sire?" Cossack felt his heart sink. He wished secretly that he'd
just kept quiet and let the Prince wonder why everyone seemed so fixated on his
hindquarters. He felt sure that Lotor would attribute it to their niceness and
the popularity of the poster. He should've just known to shut up!
"Because you won't make the same mistake. I can see it now, it'll be much better
with you as the subject." He reached out and yanked the commander by his ear
into the hallway. "Yes, we'll get that photographer back, and all those posters
recalled, and then we'll really start on this morale-building experience..."
Meanwhile, Zarkon sat alone in his throne room.
"Hey!" The King called out. "I don't want to see your bare ass hanging around my
throne room! Someone get this out of here!"
But nobody came. Not even Haggar. The King sighed and slumped back in his
throne, trying to look at anything but Lotor's poster.
He grinned, though.
"'Cornhole me good.'"
He had to admit, that was just about perfect. Faint laughter began to echo
around the throne room.
Back to
Evil Fan Fiction