Kickin' It (or Tearin' it Down) Old Skool

That's right, folks, we're going Tudor on your asses (a phrase we're sure will catch on any day now). "But wait!" you might protest, "How would King Henry VIII even know what a Nazi flag is?" To that we say: why are you reading this, Scully? Stop harshing our mellow. Just as Schrodinger had his cat, we have our flag. This is our thought experiment, and we don't claim any great practical applications for it. We're more...theoretical physicists of the nuances of contemporary sexuality and the masculine/feminine divide.

BUT WE DIGRESS...

Back to one of the greatest (by which we mean awesome in an Old Testament kind of way - not necessarily best) kings, husbands, lovers, beheaders, religious "reformers," and fathers cursed with an overabundance of X-bearing sperm cells: King Henry VIII, By the Grace of God, King of England, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and of the Church of England and of Ireland in Earth Supreme Head.

And if you have no idea what we're talking about, watch this and catch up before reading another word:

Cailey: Operating under the assumption that Henry Rex has magically been given knowledge of all that the Nazi flag represents...

Liz: And that he naturally comes to the conclusion that it is beyond vile and must be destroyed with all the wrath and potency of St. George...

Cailey: And that this entire chain of events takes place in some etherworld outside of space and time where he can confront the flag and not screw up our universe's delicate timeline...

Liz: Potentially with all six of his wives at his side...

Cailey: We really watch too much science fiction.

Liz: I know. Also, we read too much historical fiction.

Cailey: Whatevs.

Liz: So, Henry, with wives - heads intact - and quarreling young Mary (not quite bloody yet) and Elizabeth (not quite the Faerie Queen yet) in tow takes his quasi-Big Love brood on a hunt with their retinue of dogs, pages, footmen, etc...

Cailey: And good ol' Thomas More! Let's resurrect/throw him in!

Liz: Oh poor Sir/Saint Thomas, yes!

Cailey: So they are all decked out quite finely in classic Tudor equestrian attire. And they're all getting along, which is perhaps the most fantastical element of this scenario.

Liz: No one is trying to kill anyone. Catherine of Aragon isn't wringing Anne Boleyn's swan-like neck. Mary isn't trying to wrest the throne away from her younger, less-Spanish sister. Anne of Cleves isn't developing an eating disorder based on thoughtless comments made by the King. Maybe they've had hundreds of years in the ether to sort out their differences.

Cailey: Henry is in perfect health. Not yet afflicted by gout, syphilis, and a giant, reeking sore on his leg.

Liz: He rides a fine, large steed flanked by his womenfolk on smaller horses.

Cailey: They return to the ether Palace after a fine day's hunt. That widdle foxy had no chance of making through the day alive.

Liz: Oh, stop it, you're going to make me cry. Poor fox.

Cailey: I mean, really they would have been hunting a stag. But this is ether Tudor England. They can hunt whatever we want them to hunt.

Liz: So... they've been hunting woolly mammoths?

Cailey: OK, sure. Woolly mammoths, griffins, sphinxes, blue footed boobies. You name it, they killed it.

Liz: And then they return. And Henry spies the flag.

Cailey: Uh-oh. Cue the wrath of a man born to be king.

Liz: Yes. Instantly his mind starts pondering who hung it there. Must've been one of his enemies.

Cailey: Was it the revenge of Cardinal Wolsey?

Liz: Was it some French espèce de merde?

Cailey: Was it Anne Boleyn's irate kinsmen?

Liz: Henry's wrath is palpable, but he's keeping it in check at this point...

Cailey: He rides ahead of the pack. The rest of the hunting party remains behind, too perturbed and confused to move a muscle.

Liz: But then one brave soul speaks: "Your majesty, you should not venture forth alone..."

Cailey: But who will ride out to meet the flag with him? Who will protect their fearless leader? All are frozen by their cowardice.

Liz: Then Lady Anne digs her heels defiantly into the side of her noble steed. She inches forward to stand next to the man who was her king, husband, and murderer.

Cailey: Time heals all wounds?

Liz: Emboldened by her mother's actions, young Elizabeth follows suit.

Cailey: Not wanting to be outdone by her sister, Mary tags along, but not without trepidation.

Liz: Silently, with a processional air, the four approach the flag.

Cailey: Henry holds up a ring-bedecked hand, signaling that all should halt. He turns in his saddle - slowly, deliberately - to face his loyal family members...

Liz: ...and at the same time, unsheathes his massive broadsword in one fell, majestic swoop!

Cailey: The sunlight reflects off it, dazzling all, accidentally lighting the woolly mammoth on fire!

Liz: And as its giant prehistoric carcass blazes in the background, Henry faces the flag, digs his spurs into his noble steed's sides, and charges full-speed ahead, sword raised!

Cailey: "For God - and for England!" he bellows as his sword meets the flag.

Liz: The flag is no match for his kingly might!

Cailey: It is rent in twain, lacerated by his fury!

Liz: Still on horseback, still fearsomely holding his sword, Henry gazes triumphantly down upon the defeated flag, throws his head back and laughs victoriously.

Cailey: Anne, Elizabeth and Mary disembark, lady-like (of course), from their mares and kneel in deference to their lord and master.

Liz: "Up my loyal womenfolk!" he proclaims, "you must now fashion that filth into a royal arse-wipe!"

Cailey: A page brings forth a loom...

Liz: ...because hunting parties usually travel with one.

Cailey: Natch. And Henry's chosen ladies get to work, weaving the flag into a scene depicting Henry's recent triumph.

Liz: A minstrel bounds forth to entertain them with a pleasing ditty rehashing the victory.

Cailey: And the mead flows like water!

Liz: As all eat, drink and are merry!

Cailey: Not to be a buzzkill...but, as a fairly brutal suppressor/murderer of people, religious sects, wives he didn't like, etc., etc. don't you think Henry might actually have gotten behind the Totalitarian cause? Divine Right of Kings and all?

Liz: Probably, but I'm sure he would have considered Hitler the worst of all possible quasi-monarchs. Since it was Dieu et mon droit all the way for him...and the Nazis didn't have much Dieu in their manifesto...he probably would have wanted to crush them.

Cailey: I guess he would have thought them godless pretenders.

Liz: And might have tried to fight them and put himself on the Third Reich throne.

Cailey: Oh boy. That's a lot of history meshing. Brain freeze!

Liz: Better than history messing. Case in point...Natalie Portman in The Other Boleyn Girl.

Cailey: Anne Boleyn Fail.

Liz: Too true.

FIN.