Servants bustled around, serving drinks and caring orderves on trays. Women of the court dressed in the latest fashion of high headdresses of the Spanish decent floated around the room, men escorting them. Flirtatious fan waving crossed the banquet as men looked upon those who they wished to hook up with. Catherine of Aragon, queen at the time sat in her thrown surrounded by her ladies in waiting. The king was late, still in his quaters with the newest girl to his fancy. Anne Boleyn, her hair tossed and tasselled in mix matched directions, her bosom falling out of her corset worn under green velvet and black lace, her dress pulled aside revealing pink flesh and black curls. Walking out hand in hand, his handerchief tucked in her bodice, a sign of affection for her and a reminder to all ladies of the court that she was number one, reigning even
over the Queen of England.
In the blue grass state of Kentucky, Bill as many close individuals called him, walked steadily with a slight limp across the gigantic arena towards the stable where hundreds of American Saddle Breeds lined the great concrete halls under the big tin red roof. Horse jockeys and stable boys ran past in different directions, occasionally stopping to ask for orders, or just to say simply hello and how are you. William aka Bill was a greying man at age 77, though he was still fit and ready to go at a moment's notice. He showed all kinds of horses at his ranch called Belle Reve and was most notably remembered for his role in Star Trek as Captain James T. Kirk. Strolling down the aisle, the smell of har faintly touched the crisp air, he wondered to himself out loud, as if the horses held the truth "when will the milk arrive?"
Late into the night, heading into the early morning hours, fabric still swirled around the courts. Bands played an endless melody giving the moonlight a haunting effect. The Queen had left, followed by her ladies in waiting, gone to her chambers where she could brew over lost love. Anne still sat by her lover's side enjoying the company, music and wit of the people - most of which were payed to entertain her. The King stared blissfully at her chest, nodding every so often with an off grin - like the ones you see on high school students after about twenty minutes of lecture.
The clock chimed five times, it was getting late and the sun was setting, working with the trees to make a picturesque scene. William was seated with his wife just getting dinner started. Turkey and mashed potatoes filled the dining room with an aroma fit only to serve Thanks Giving or Christmas. The Shatners sat peacefully watching the sun set and the moon rise. At the same time back about a few hundred years, Anne Boleyn and her sister managed to get away from the king and the rest of the court to watch the sun rise and the moon fade.
Flying around in a gravity lacking environment, the hunk of rock flew closer and closer to the blue-green planet, covered in life and more man made mysteries then all of the unverses' combined. As it grew closer, the earth's invisible force pulled it in, speeding it up and smashing it into the planetary terrain, changing the massive rock into a ball of fire. At the same epoch another, much like the other, made its descent on the world. Both flew through the layers of air and hit creating a massive whole and blending the two world's together, speeding time forward and changing locations.
Queen Catherine shot up in bed; her ladies in waiting were nowhere to be seen. Lifting her feet and attempting to walk through the debris left scattered around the floor she made her way to the entrance. The wooden door was in terrible form with splinters of wood hanging from it and hinges crooked. She pried the door open to find some of her ladies injured, dyeing or perfectly fine. Courtiers were rushing around, screams were heard in the background, utter chaos hung in the air with Catherine stuck in the middle while time seemed to speed up and make her people go into overdrive. Rubble and the remains of his once beautiful Belle Reve were scattered across the acreage. Managing to remove himself from underneath the wooden bookcase, which had decided to fall on him, he limped even more prominently through the house looking for his wife. Finding her in the kitchen, she was huddled up on the kitchen table when the fridge had fallen and crushed the both of them. William felt his world falling from under his feet, he tried to run but his mind stayed still while the room went from peace to anarchy in a matter of seconds, then black.
One of the kings private secretaries rushed into the Boleyn girls' room and beckoned for Anne. In a matter of minutes Anne was ready and presentable for the King, hair braided back and an elegant but shy petticoat pulled over her bedtime garments. Rushing down the corridor, jumping rock and bits of stone as if she was a leading star in a ballet, the secretary took her aside upon reaching the door leading to the royal chambers and told her the tragic news. Blackness overcame Anne and she crumpled into the secretaries arms. Anne's sister was the only one who got the clear picture of the outside world, the king was dead and they were in a land full of tall metal beams and grass cut to perfection.
The next morning the sun shown down, heating the earth to an unbearable temperature. Grass started to shrivel and trees did their best to provide shade to those without protection. William was still in his ruined house dreading life and all its misfortunes..."when will the milk come?" He repeated over and over, clutching his dead wife's dismembered hand. Servants ran from one corner to the next moving rock and stone, while others were sent to scout the area and determine what had happen. Queen Catherine mourned her husband's death while the Boleyn sisters wore their respected black and roamed the outside world.
People were dressed in unsightly fashions, too much skin, no black, and women with hair cut short as if they were boys. They stared and mocked the sisters as the two trudged through the strange new...town? They did this for a week, wandering the peculiar place. In that period people from the place started to drop dead due to the lack of water and nutrition and it wasnt long till the stench of dead infested corpses killed Mary too. Anne was beside herself and spent even more time wandering the streets of the new land, only returning at sunset before dark so she could have enough time to candles.
Eventually she gained the new peoples trust/pity and was fed and watered. Everyone from the palace was dead and if not for the new peasants she would be alone. For the new month she searched, becoming increasingly cautious of the big moving creatures with turning legs and finding joy of a weird substance called sushi. there was another thing that was new to her; she actually had to work. Appalled by this information she eventually realized that it was either work or starve.
Shatner was the only one left on the ranch; everyone was either dead or gone and usually the later meant missing. Still he sat there day and night, with his wife's rotting hand intertwined in his, the ring on her finger slowly falling off. "Where is the milk?"
At around the same time, Anne landed herself the milk delivery job. She started Tuesday, the houses were set far apart and there was a lot of walking involved, she was anything but impressed. As time progressed she became familiar with routes and started to ignore the blisters upon blisters attached to her body. Ultimately it came to the point where she was bumped from the route to another. According to her boss no one had ever successfully left a bottle of milk at the Shatner place. Walking down the street, nervously conversing with herself she made her way up the long stretch of driveway leading to the burnt and torn ranch. She couldn't believe no one had finished this apparently difficult task before. She left a single bottle of sparkling white fluid and briskly walked away.
"The milks here!"
