Xanax: Close your eyes. Open your mind. Your journey's about to begin. Relax your karma. And try not to barf. As the universe starts to spin. Hocus Pocus. Expialidocious. Set your aura free. Petrificus Totalus. Drink deeply from the chalice. Tell us what you see! Ah-ha-ha-ha!
King Richard: I see a door! (Chef leans in towards King Richard, lips puckered) Xanax: Oi! What did I say? Chef: No... Xanax: Go through it. King Richard: It's opening on its own! Xanax: That's magic. (Chef and King Richard go though the door and appear on a balcony overlooking a throne room) King Richard: This is the day my father died.
Steward: The king is dead, long live the king. Royal Court: The king is dead, long live the king. Steward: Where is his son, who'll inherit everything?
Chef: Is that you, sire? So handsome. King Richard: No. It's my much older brother, Kingsley. Young Richard: I can't see anything! King Richard: That's me.
Royal Court: Shut up, you! Young Richard: I can't see anything! Royal Court: Shut up!
Chef: Oh, dear. King Richard: I ate my feelings. And a lot of bread.
Royal Court: The sword, Your Highness! Here's the royal sword! Young Kingsley: No one gives me anything. Royal Court: To be the king, you must receive the sword! Young Kingsley: If I want something, I take it. And I don't want to be any king. (Everyone gasps) Queen: Oh, but, Kingsley, it's your destiny. We literally named you "Kingsley." God told us to. It's not like we were being trendy. Young Kingsley: My destiny lies beyond the castle walls, mother. I'm going to conquer and kill and spread bastard children throughout the land, like wildflower seeds. Somebody else can sit on their ass and rule. Queen: But who? Royal Court: Who? Steward: But who? Royal Court: Who? All: But who? (Young Richard farts) (Everyone gasps and moves away from Young Richard) Queen: Dickie? Chef: Dickie. (Chuckles) Steward: Brilliant, Gareth Young Gareth: Aye. Steward: You shall be the king's guard. Young Gareth: I'm only 10, but... all right. I'm Gareth, and I'll faithfully serve you, My King. Royal Court: The sword, your highness. Here's your royal sword. To be the king, you mu-
Young Kingsley: Actually, I think I will take the sword. (Royal Court gasps) Young Kingsley: Good luck... Dickie.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
