The Royal Council of Cripples

There is this thing called The Royal Council of Cripples. It is the governing body of all cripples everywhere and it meets to conduct its business on the third Thursday night of every month in their secret underground lair. And this may be the last time that you hear from me because I am sworn to secrecy about the very existence of this group, let alone its modus operandi. But sometimes cripples are expected to speak with one voice and until we do we must all shut the fuck up. We have to be a monolith. And that’s why the Royal Council of Cripples was created many moons ago. This nine-man council meets in the wee hours when all of the verts are asleep in their beds, with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads. (Verts are what I call people who walk because it’s short for verticals.) Every cripple in the world attends, but we all have to sign a blood oath swearing that we will always deny that anything happened and then we’re all issued a cyanide capsule that we’re supposed to take if anyone tries to torture any information out of us. The main responsibility of the Royal Council of Cripples is to decide what every cripple in the world thinks about a certain issue and to designate spokescripples to express the view of every cripple in the world. And that’s why I decided to come clean about all this, even though it puts me at considerable personal risk. I needed to lift a weighty albatross off of my shoulders. Now everyone will know what I am talking about when I say that I have been authorized to speak on behalf of every cripple in the world by the Royal Council of Cripples. Besides, some of the verts were starting to figure it all out anyway. Just because they can walk doesn’t make them all stupid, you know. (Please support Smart Ass Cripple and help us keep going. Just click below to contribute.) https://www.paypal.me/smartasscripple?fbclid=IwAR2qrql-UFH19OepgeaCG4WmblyNylb27k2q8eYxXHH