King Trumpet and The Moon
Not too long ago, and not too far away, there was a king. He was a very rich and very powerful king and lots of people loved him.
He was also a rather silly king who believed that just about anything that came to him in a dream was true. He believed that he would live forever if he ate hamburgers every day. He believed seagulls were really penguins in disguise. He even believed his poop smelled liked fairy dust and ice-cream.
He was called King Trumpet because he liked to blow a giant golden trumpet before he declared these things to the people. The people cheered for the king and believed the king because he was… the king.
One day, not too long ago and not too far away, King Trumpet stood on the balcony of his great golden palace in front of an eager crowd. He pursed his lips and blew his great golden trumpet.
‘Hear this, Folks, hear this,’ began King Trumpet. ‘The moon is actually made… of cheese. You didn’t know it before but you know it now, thanks to me. You’re welcome.’ King Trumpet blew his golden trumpet again, ‘PRRRRoooooop,’ and went back into his golden palace. The crowd cheered, clapped and talked about what type of cheese the moon might be made out of.
One small group in the crowd, however, that was not asking ‘which cheese?’ They were asking ‘Is that true?’
That night, the group visited the king while he was sat in his garden tooting on his pocket sized trumpet.
‘King Trumpet,’ they cried. ‘Look through this telescope. You can see that the moon is a rock because it is covered in mountains and craters.’
‘Wrong,’ said King Trumpet, blowing a raspberry. ‘The cheese is lumpy… because of the mice. I’m the king. I know everything.’
The next day, the group visited the king while he was playing with his toys.
‘King Trumpet. You need to look at these measurements,’ they cried, showing the king a scroll full of numbers and diagrams. ‘They show that the moon is 10921km around the middle. It’s 27% the size of the Earth!’
‘Wrong,’ said King Trumpet, blowing a cloud of bubbles from his trumpet shaped bubble blower. ‘I don’t need to look at that. I’m a genius. It’s a really, really big cheese.’
The group didn’t visit the king again until a few days later. They found him in the circus watching the clowns and eating burgers.
‘King Trumpet,’ they said gently. ‘We have a present for you. It’s outside.’
They showed the king a shiny, golden rocket ship.
‘Would you like to go on a trip to taste the Moon?’
‘Mmmmm,’ grinned King Trumpet as he climbed aboard.
A golden moonwalk later, the king sat at his dinner table in front of a golden bowl of moon. He squirted on some tomato sauce from his trumpet shaped squeezy bottle, ‘Phhhhuuurt,’ scooped up a golden spoonful and put it in his mouth. He scrunched up his face and blew a massive raspberry spitting out a cloud of damp moon dust.
‘Not good,’ complained the king. ‘Why am I eating a rock?’
‘Perhaps,’ suggested the group, ‘if you think the Moon tastes like rock then it might actually be made of rock’.
‘I know that. I’m the cleverest king ever,’ mumbled the king as he picked moon out of his teeth. ‘Who are you guys, anyway?’
‘We’re scientists,’ said the group, ‘and teachers and children… and all three at the same time.’
That night, the king stood on his golden balcony before a crowd of people and blew his golden trumpet.
‘Hear this, Folks,’ began King Trumpet. ‘I went to the Moon. Some people think the Moon is made of cheese but I proved it’s just a big rock. Nobody knew that before but you know it now, thanks to me. It’s called science and I’m the best at it. You’re welcome.’
The crowd cheered and clapped.
‘Next,’ he said, pointing to the stars, ‘I am going up to those little white dots up there and I’m gonna prove that they are…. marshmallows.’