The Hakawati

by Rabih Alameddine

Layla shook King Issa Touran Shah out of his slumbering stupor. “Wake,” she said sternly. “It is time for prayers.” The king rubbed his heavy eyes and sat up. “My prayers have been answered. Show me your breasts.” Layla slapped the king so hard his neck almost swiveled full-circle. Behind the curtain, Harhash whispered, “I do not think you have to worry about your honor.” “Why did you hit me?” cried the king. “You are my subject. Behave accordingly.” Layla double-slapped him, palm out and back of the hand. “Stop that,” he yelped. She raised her hand to strike him again, and he cowered. “I am the king.” “You are a dog.” Layla threw the terrified king to the floor and pulled his hair. He tried to move away but recoiled when he saw the other doves emerge from behind the curtain. They slapped him in order, one by one.