My new ward is much different from my old, although we moved 2 streets over and probably less than 500 feet. The houses, for the most part, are smaller and less expensive, though still quite apt to fetch a nice price for any building. As a result of this there are more large families and a couple newlyweds. One member of my ward has intrigued me, absolutely tickling me to the point of utmost delight. His name is Leonard.

But not to me, you see. To me his name deserves a title, his air and manner stand in need of trumpets and of lace and of a derby handle-silver plated cane. I will never call him Leonard. What a rubbish name! I shall call him Louis XIV. He looks just like him, he does; his long, dark hair falls in curls down the sides of his face from a straight middle part, his nose slides down his long face in the exact same manner. His lips sit dismally above his piercing chin in an expression of undeviating disdain, although occasionally the corners of his dainty mouth pull slightly as if 2 hooks had mysteriously wedged themselves between the lips and were fluidly drawing them upward into a countenance of mocking amusement and intrigue. He has the very tone and natural opulence of a king, and one king in particular: King Louis the XIV of France.

The haughtiness is in no need to be supported by the rich furs or heels of Louis, although he wears a silk vest suit without the jacket to church. He wears converse all-star shoes with the suit, which would devastate any individual dressing to pose. It’s in the way he holds his head and curly tresses, the way he stands and sits and glowers.

Today he was brought into Sunday school by an older man. Apparently our majesty is fond of missing class. In came the aged man, with a full beard and large stature, his arm through the king’s, both heads held high.

Louis was being escorted to class.

Oh, how it added to the likeness already formed in my mind! How he floated forward with his attendant at his side! How he was delivered, how he debonairly descended into the chair, how blasé his stare remained!

“Leonard does not have permission to go to the bathroom, get a drink, or to leave this classroom.” With this the bearded gentleman left the room after softly shutting the door.

Louis simply glanced up at now shut door without moving his head, waited a moment, then rose. He turned to the class, as if bidding adieu with a royal flutter of the hand, preparing to leave amidst the trumpets and the tambourines and the flourish of the majestic procession. He silently turned, smoothly opened the door effortlessly with his white hands, and departed, superciliously prancing out of the humdrum room.

How magnificent! How superlative and glorious! How flawlessly, how absolutely and completely Louis!