That night, a bad case of insomnia set in on the King. Fresh out of Sominex, he decided to find something boring to read and see if that would help him fall asleep. Now if the King ain’t sleepy, ain’t nobody sleepy. So at three in the morning, he had his aides bring him The Giant Book Of All The Great Stuff I’ve Done While I’ve Been King. The condensed version.
Yawning, he thumbed through it and was just about to fall asleep when he saw his journal entry about Mordecai ratting out some back lot thugs and saving the King’s life from an assassination attempt.
“Hey, Joe!” he yelled to his clerk. “Did we ever do anything nice for this Jewish guy who saved my life that one time?”
“No. Can’t think that we did.”
Well, by then it was going on seven and who should show up in the foyer but his good buddy, Haman, looking to ask King Xerxes for that little shish kabob favor. When the King heard that Haman was waiting to see him, he invited Haman in to ask a favor of his own.
“Hey, you’re just the man I wanted to see,” Xerxes bellowed as Haman entered the room. Haman straightened his tie.
“If I wanted to honor somebody in a really big way, what would you suggest I do?” Xerxes asked.
Haman’s heart began to pound and he flushed with embarrassment. “He must plan to honor me, his BFF!” he thought to himself. “How appropriate!”
“Well,” Haman answered, “If I were in your shoes, oh mighty ruler of all the important parts of the world, and I wanted to show my admiration for someone, my Worshipful Master, I’d throw a ticker tape parade in his honor! Oh, oh! And get this! He’d be the only one in the parade--all eyes would be on him! You could even give him one of your royal robes—just one from the back of your closet, no need to make the poor guy too self-conscious—put him on one of your very own horses with one of those huge, beautiful royal crests on the stallion’s head?—and find some schmuck to lead him up and down Main Street for everyone to cheer and applaud!”
Out of breath with excitement, Haman waited eagerly for the King to give him his just reward.
“What a great idea!” the King exclaimed. “I’m putting you personally in charge. Go get one of my robes and a horse and do just what you have said for Mordecai the Jew who’s always hanging out over at Starbucks. And I don’t need a poor schmuck to lead him around town—you can do it for me!”
Every now and then, there’s a little justice in the world. Haman obeyed the King and led Mordecai around the town that morning, shouting for all to hear,
“This is how the King honors people who have his back.”
It was an Excedrin moment for Haman. Tail between his legs, he headed home where his family and friends tried to stifle their chuckles and work up a little sympathy for Haman and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
“Wow,” they said, “Sucks to be you.”
None of them thought he had an ice cube’s chance in Hades of getting rid of Mordecai now. And while they commiserated with Haman, the chauffeur arrived to take him to dinner at the palace.