The sun is high in the sky when prince Jonathan steps out onto the balcony overlooking the town square. All eyes are upon him immediately and the young royal fails not to squirm under the attention. Thankfully no one notices, his robes are oversized enough to hide his movements, but no one would dare to mention it even if they did notice.

The queen steps out right after him and the crowd bursts into cheers. She’s dressed in black in honor of her late husband, just as some of the royal guards standing on the sides of the crowd. The people aren’t wearing black though. Their mourning period is over and now it’s time to celebrate the new king, by dressing in their best clothes.

Looking down at them, the queen wants to scoff. She wouldn’t touch “their best” with a ten foot pole.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” The royal advisor steps forward. “We are gathered here today for the coronation of our new king, Jonathan I.”

Another wave of cheers starts. A man from the crowd whistles and a shorter man standing next to him shoves him, barely making him budge, before joining in. A few people look at them disapprovingly but no one says anything. No one dares to make a scene.

Prince Jonathan launches into a practiced speech, promising to be a good king and treat his subjects fairly. The short man from the crowd rolls his eyes and as he turns his head, he meets the gaze of a farmer’s son. His shoulders are wide, his only good shirt stretched tight over the muscle on his arms, but he only smirks and nods.

The short man nods back and when his taller friend notices the interaction, he too looks out into the crowd, only to find a pair of eyes already looking back. The servant girl, wearing her mother's dress that hang on her small frame unflatteringly, gives him a smile and a nod of her own.

More looks are exchanged between all four of them, when a stone rolls on the ground between the short man’s legs. He turns around in the direction it came from and locks eyes with another young man. He too nods.

“Lastly, I want to say that prior to tonight, I have read my father’s coronation speech, as it is the only one I wasn’t present for,”prince Jonathan continues talking as some of the noblemen snicker. “And I would like to promise you one thing he never did. I promise to be kind.”

As prince Jonathan steps away from the microphone and the crowd erupts into cheers, the short man looks away from his friends and locks eyes with one of the guards. Both of them freeze for a moment, their time slowing down in the middle of the celebration, but then the guard wordlessly pushes his shoulders back and looks up to watch the coronation.

The short man nods to himself and pushes his hand into his pocket. His fingers wrap around the grip of the pistol.

As the crowd calms down, the royal advisor steps forward again, this time holding a crown. Silence falls over the town square and prince Jonathan stands tall as the golden jewel is set into his hair. The advisor leans into the microphone and says, “Bow before your new king.”

The crowd moves like one body, dropping to the ground, when a gunshot rings out across the town square.

Gasps can be heard from every direction as the new king, just like his people, falls to his knees.

Once upon a time, there was a man with conviction! He looked around him at all the sad sacks and whiny sops and pathetic worms and he was filled with disgust. He also felt a little sad for them. So, this man, this convictuous man, he put it upon himself to destroy the doldrums once and for all. He Spoke:

"I will destroy depression! Grr! The specter of sadness will plague society no longer! With the power of science I will change this world forever! I Freaking Love Science!!"

So, the man shut himself into his study for five long minutes, and when he emerged, he displayed the fruits of his labor for all to see. He Spoke:

"Kha-loo Kha-lay; what a glorious day!! I've procured the cure to cure depression once and for all. Now all you piteous wretches line up so I can administer my cure unto you! I Fricking Love Science!"

But the witless masses did not line up to receive their cure. They balked at their salvation! They had come to love their sadness. Caught up in their own tragic beauty, the thought of not bitching 24/7 made the bile in their stomachs curdle with rage and indignation. (Bile should not do that). They spoke:

"We hate you, Man with Conviction! You have over-stepped and threatened our very way of life! In your hubris, you failed to consider that if we really weren't resigned to our lives of misery, then we would've already taken a long walk off a short pier... and drowned! We love depression and whining and complaining and posting about it on social medias! You are a fool, The Man Who Cured Depression! Grah!"

And lo, did they pounce upon their enemy. This man of science let out a horrible howl. It was a howl of shock and betrayal. The mob ripped his arms and legs off, then they stacked all their hands together and, with the added strength bonus, they threw the cure for depression several kilometers into an active volcano. Finally, the Man Who Cured Depression was loaded into The Kill Cube. Thus did the cube enact it's vile nature upon the man.

EPILOGUE: Society remained depressed forevermore. Until the Sun blew up or an asteroid hit the Earth or they nuked each other into oblivion or some plagued killed them or they all long-walked off a short pier and drowned. I don't know what happened; I looked down at my phone for a couple centuries and when I looked back up they were all gone. I'm God, by the way. I love you :) Bye :))))