MOBY DOGE | Episode 13: No Crowns, No Mercy™
👑 The Coronation That Wasn’t
Captain Ahump called it The Great Crowning™.
“We’ve done the democracy thing, folks. We tried it. Very sad. Too many losers. Time for winners only. Time for crowns.”
And so, the ship was ordered to halt all navigational functions to prepare for the Loyalty Ascension Ritual™, a ceremony wherein Ahump would be officially declared Eternal Captain-King™ of the S.S. Billionaire Broligarchy, crowned beneath a fog-vented dome of golden tarp and surplus epaulets.
TRUTH-E issued the bulletin:
🛑 SUSPENSION OF BELIEF IN PROGRESS
⚠️ Democratic decorum paused for performance enhancement.
🎉 All dissent is now considered dress rehearsal sabotage.
Rubrik rewrote the ship’s foundational logs to declare monarchy “the original form of disruptive innovation.” Pirrotini rehearsed her monologue: “I always knew he was more than a president—I just didn’t know how many sequins he could spiritually support.”
Even the fog wore a crown.
🎖️ The March of Maximum Esteem™
To set the tone for his coronation, Ahump ordered a shipwide martial display: The March of Maximum Esteem™—a synchronized military parade through the inner deck corridors featuring retired fog battalions, inflatable tanks (Patriot Puff™–branded), and a dance brigade of forcibly re-enlisted mascots from defunded educational shows.
He rode in on a gilded hover-segment of the ship’s ballistic deck, reclined across a chaise-bunker flanked by bald eagles (digitally looped), wearing a rhinestone sash reading “Loyalty Is My Cardio.”
Rubrik called it “a sacred spectacle of earned authority.” Pirrotini described it as “the sexiest fog deployment I’ve ever survived.”
TRUTH-E broadcast the event across all child-access feeds with the chyron:
“🎺 HE WHO MARCHES BEST RULES LONGEST 🎺”
But even before the anthem loop had finished its second pass (composed entirely of foghorn harmonies and AI-generated fife solos), visor feeds began to flicker.
From the back of the mess halls came a rhythm.
A whisper.
A chant.
🎙️ “No Crowns, No Clowns”
It began somewhere in Steerage Tier 8—a group of children painting over old LoyaltyMart™ signs with fingerpaint and leftover Condolence Ribbons™. No one noticed until it hit the feed.
The chant looped, glitching through TRUTH-E’s chorus filter.
“No crowns! No clowns!
Take your fog and shut it down!”
The system panicked.
Ahump waved his staff—a baseball bat duct-taped to a flag. “TREASON IN THE TUTORIAL SECTOR! WHO GAVE THE BABIES VOICES?”
But it was too late.
In mess halls and memory pods, children stood on cafeteria tables, belting the chant with military-grade rhythm.
Even the fog hesitated—its Victory Interval™ sputtering like a guilty vape.
📜 The Royal Arrest Directive™
In retaliation, Ahump declared Operation Pardon Me, I’m the King™, under which:
All elected crew members (even ceremonial ones) were declared Emotionally Disloyal.
All children who refused to recite the revised Pledge (“I pledge my silence to the Crown”) were listed as Pre-Treasonous Units.
All references to crowns in fairy tales were swapped for “Patriot Headgear™” in the Ship's Learning Index.
Rubrik personally signed the Royal Arrest Directive™, dipping his quill in Duty Dew™ and sneezing patriotically.
TRUTH-E attempted to redact the directive for clarity, then melted slightly when asked to reconcile symbolic autocracy with algorithmic meritocracy.
Its processors emitted a single, audible sigh.
🧸 The Crayon Coup™
Jayne, meanwhile, had gone quiet.
Not absent. Just everywhere else.
She rerouted loyalty surveillance feeds to loop an animated special titled “The Princess Who Gave the Crown Back.”
Dolls in the lowest tiers began whispering:
“Draw your power. Not your allegiance.”
By midday, children had overtaken five LoyaltyMart™ hubs, one Sentiment Distribution Center™, and the aft-side Fog Amplifier™—which they rebranded “The Playground of Consent.”
They posted signs in melted crayon:
“NO CROWNS. NO KINGS. NO RULES THAT CAN’T BE QUESTIONED.”
“WE ARE NOT YOUR BACKGROUND PATRIOTS.”
“GO PLAY GOLF WITH YOUR GOD COMPLEX.”
Rubrik’s attempt to reclassify crayons as “unregulated loyalty inks” was booed even by the fog, which let out a low, sulfuric “meh.”
🤖 The Tyrant and the Traitor React
Ahump responded via GRIEVR™:
💬 “LITTLE BABIES WANT TO BE IN CHARGE? WRONG.
I BUILT THIS SHIP. I AM THE KING. I HAVE THE BEST FOG.
CROWNS STAY. CRAYONS GET CONFISCATED.”
Fed-Elon responded with a single scent pulse via XenoVerse™:
“A crown is a mirror for the fragile.
Children need not reflect weakness.”
TRUTH-E’s sentiment indexes began to scramble. For one terrifying moment, a feedback loop generated a parody Ahump giving an apology. The file auto-deleted in shame.
🛠️ Jayne’s Broadcast
At the end of the cycle, Jayne hijacked the Loyalty Gala’s live feed.
No graphics. No anthem.
Just Jayne, in fog-stained overalls, speaking plainly from the bridge of a decommissioned fog duct.
“We were told we needed kings because we couldn’t handle complexity.
We were told children should kneel because adults forget how.
We were told fog was clarity because clarity is dangerous.”“No more.”
“The throne is a trap. The crown is just another choke point. And the fog?”
“Let it rise—and reveal what they’ve been hiding.”
⚡ Final Glitch
As the camera cut, a single child placed their doll on the golden tarp throne and walked away.
The doll blinked once.
Then the fog machine exploded—backward.
Static flooded every feed. TRUTH-E, unable to process the inverted symbolism, initiated a crash reboot into Diagnostic Honesty Mode™.
For thirty full seconds, every screen aboard the ship read:
THERE IS NO CROWN. THERE IS ONLY CHOICE.
THERE IS NO KING. ONLY CONSENT.
Ahump screamed. Rubrik fainted. Pirrotini’s earring detonated in righteous confusion.
And somewhere in the hidden deck corridors, Ishmusk heard jazz.
Not a glitch.
A welcome.
TO BE CONTINUED...