The Jester’s clothes fit snugly to his body. He felt this accutely as he tried not to look at the Emperor, for if he looked too long he would surely be beheaded.
He felt the pull of his collar against his throat and the tightness of his pants against his crotch. He longed to tug at the fabric. He thought that if he could just drop the balls he was juggling he could bend down to pick them up… but that again would be a risk to his neck, or perhaps his own balls.
Backwards he walked at the head of the parade. The crowd lining the streets cheered, free to gawk.
The Jester wished he could shed his clothes, but to do so would draw the attention of the Emperor to his own state.
Then the unthinkable happened.
“But he’s not wearing anything!” yelled a snotty brat from somewhere in the crowd.
The Jester dropped his balls, one of them bouncing in the direction of the Emperor. Afraid that the mighty leader would trip over it the Jester stooped to retrieve it. As he stood up the bells on his hat came into contact with the Emperor’s belly, making him giggle. The Jester laughed, thinking that he had pleased the Emperor, but the armed guards disagreed.
The Jester was executed on the spot.
The moral of the story:
Never come to a party overdressed.