[ CW ] Begin and end your story with the same expletive .

`` Shit!'' the King shouted, as the axe blows rained down upon the door of his final refuge. 
 `` Shit shit shit shit.'' He chanted, looking frantically for the escape he knew would never come. They came through the breach, those starving, filthy peasants, irresistible to his knights in their numbers and their rage. The King closed his eyes as one particularly ugly brute brought the axe haft down upon his head with a crash. 
 
 He awoke. That in itself surprised the King. He was further surprised to find himself not in the dungeons or even clasped in chains, but wearing his usual raiment in the town square. If his lack of captivity surprised him, he was downright astounded to find no ominous gallows, no sinister headsman. There was, in fact, not a single implement of torture to be seen. 
 
 There was, however, a large and strangely silent crowd surrounding him. Feeling weak and woozy, the King stood, marveling that even his crown remained upon his head. Gazing at the assembled crowd, his guts squirmed uncomfortably. 
 
 `` You look confused'' a rough voice spoke behind him. 
 The King whorled around, furred cloak flapping. It was the ugly brute, the one who struck his royal person. `` Allow me to explain.'' 
 
 `` You... You dare to... `` but the King's mind reeled. 
 
 *The blow must have been worse than I realized* thought the King to himself. He quivered slightly, straining to hold his balance. 
 
 `` -- with your ruinous taxation, malicious servants, and unwholesome plots! You who remained aloof while his people --'' 
 
 The King's attention wandered, unable to focus. *Yes* he thought, breaking into a drenching sweat, *that blow addled something within my head. * 
 
 Impatiently, the King cut of the brute, `` Are you going to kill me here or what? I really do n't feel up to your inane drivel, so either get it over with or call a surgeon, my head...'' His guts wrenched again, forcefully, nearly driving the King to his knees. 
 
 *I am a King! I will not soil myself before these wretched cretins* 
 
 The Man took the King by his chin, turning to bring their faces together. 
 
 `` There are no surgeons. Nor are there physicians, nor doctors, nor even midwives. They died from the sickness while you kept yourself locked away, letting your people die. And we've no need to kill you either. We have no need to.'' 
 
 The cramping intensified and a wave of dizziness overtook the King, causing him to cry out. 
 
 `` Please!'' The proud man mewled. `` Something is wrong, I am ill'' 
 
 `` Yes'' replied the man. `` With the same plague that took our families'' 
 
 `` Anything!'' The King muttered `` I'll do anything'' 
 
 `` Then shit. Shit your life's blood out like our children did'' 
 
 `` Shit?'' Muttered the King, sinking to his knees. The cobble stones felt hard and cold on his cheek, though he did n't remember falling. 
 
 `` Shit'' he mumbled, as his bowels loosened. 
 
 `` Shit''
