The Rot King’s Rare Kindness
The Rot King’s Rare Kindness
As dictated by His Supreme Grubbiness, King Grumble of the Rot
You ever been woken up by the sound of a cursed jockstrap arguing with a discarded love letter? No? Must be nice.
I am curled up on my throne (read: a cracked bidet enshrined in banana peels), enjoying a well-earned nap when the walls of my kingdom start vibrating with spiritual whining.
Again.
“Grumble! Grumble!”
I don’t bother looking up. I figure it’s one of my servants. “Yes, yes, bring me offerings of rot and regret—” I look up. “Oh. It's you.”
There stands him.
Eddy “Trash” Something.
Grouch-turned-soft.
Bin-boy Supreme.
“Grumble,” he says, and—would you believe the audacity—he bows.
Like I am some kind of authority and not just the unfortunate immortal consequence of twenty-three failed reincarnations and a Subway footlong left under the sun too long.
“I need a favour,” Eddy starts.
I cackle. I howl. I summon a choir of possessed pizza boxes just to sing “NO” in harmony. But the bastard waits till my dramatic performance is over to continue.
He waits with those gooey amber eyes and that romance-novel-sacrificial-spirit energy that makes me itch.
“A favour?” I spit, then I realise what is going on. He had changed. “You want a free reincarnation, don’t you? You think this is some discount bin-reboot program?”
He doesn’t flinch.
“Friend, please. I want to go back. I want to try again. As me. Fully me. Human. No more slime. No more rot. Just… a second chance.”
Now, here's the thing. I like Eddy. Not enough to kiss his feet or anything—he's still tragically over-sentimental—but he’s one of the few Bin-Spirits who didn’t lose themselves in the muck or didn’t try to crown themself Lord of the Landfill or build a temple out of old mattresses.
He fell in love. Broke a curse. Grew a soul.
Ugh. Gross.
But also… impressive.
So, I stand, all regal and sticky. Spread my arms wide like a raccoon pope and boom, “I, Grumble the Eternal, King of the Rot, declare this most uncommon of occasions—”
“—a Rare Kindness?” He asks.
My eyes shoot him a dirty look. Well, they always are dirty, but this is one of disdain. “Don’t ruin my moment.”
I summon the council; a sock puppet made of earwax, a dead pigeon whose owner used to do taxes, and the ghost of a half-eaten burrito.
They vote. Unanimously.
“He’s annoying but kind of i-coo-nic,” the pigeon says.
“Fine,” I declare. “By the sovereign stench of my crown, I grant thee The Rot’s Rare Kindness—one (1) human rebirth, at the age you died, to the year we are today. Limited warranty, no returns. If you die again, that’s it.”
Eddy blinks. “So… I’ll live again?”
“You’ll start fresh. Clean slate. New name, new paperwork, new social security number—”
“FUCK YEAH! I’m so happy, I could kiss-.” Eddy runs up to me, and I hold my arms up in defence trying to bash him off.
“Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me if it all goes to shit!”
Eddy grins.
He steps back and his body begins to glow. And in that final moment, before the rebirth bin shimmers open, he turns and says:
“Thank you, Grumble.”
To which I reply, “Never speak of this again or I will flush your soul down a dimension where feelings are illegal.”
Then he is gone.
Back to the mortal realm.
Back to the boy with the mop and the heartbreak.
Somewhere, in a world where the bins still clatter in moonlight, a new hire with amber eyes is clocking in for his first shift…
and I, the royal rotted one, await the day my throne is challenged.
The spirit realm of the Rot will now be unbalanced, unsettled, knowing that I had allowed one lucky soul to return.
I hear the rumblings of a war brewing in the sewers.
But instead, I return to my throne. Bidet still cracked.
Empire still reeking.
But maybe, just maybe, the Rot isn’t all bad.