Dr. Euphemismos Obfuscato was sitting at his desk in the drafty wing of the castle when Senior Knight, Sir Fawnsalot, barged in. Dr. Euphemismos looked up from his work and, upon seeing Sir Fawnsalot rush through the doorway, put down his pen and rose from his chair.

“Sir Fawnsalot. Pray, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“Well, Sir,” said Fawnsalot, struggling for breath and removing his hat. “You must help me. The King is in trouble. I’ve been ordered to find a solution or else he will . . . Please, please, you must help me . . . help us!”

“Good Lord, not again?” said Dr. Euphemismos, throwing up his hands. “I thought we’d taken care of that nasty business.”

“Oh, would that it were so, Sir, but alas, the people are in revolt. They demand answers. Someone in the King’s royal house must have been bribed.” He took a step toward Dr. Euphemismos and lowered his voice. “There have been leaks, Sir. Everywhere the King goes, the people now scream at him, ‘You L- . . . You L- . . .’” He coughed into his hand.
“Liar? Is that the word you cannot utter, Sir? People accuse the King of lying to them?”

Sir Fawnsalot shuddered. “Ah, yes, Sir. Quickly, we must do something.” He began wringing his hands and pacing about.

“Dear, oh dear,” said Dr. Euphemismos, sitting back down and scooting his chair close to his desk. “Please, have a seat—you’re making me nervous. I must get to work.” He reached for his writing folder and removed several sheets of foolscap. He picked up his quill, paused a minute, then set it back down.

“Now, let me see,” said the good Doctor. “Have we not already used the phrase: ‘Mistakes were made’? And: ‘My words were taken out of context?’”

Sir Fawnsalot nodded. “Yes, yes, Sir. And, alas, we’ve already made use of: “Perhaps I misspoke.’ Those all worked jolly well, I must say, up until last week. I beseech you, kind Sir, please pick up your pen and once again work your magic. The King has threatened dire consequences upon my head were I to return empty-handed!”

“Well,” said Dr. Euphemismos, “we must set this right.” He began scribbling in a fury, and when he was done, he blotted the foolscap and held it up to read: “‘It is nothing but partisan politics!’”

“Yes, yes,” cried Sir Fawnsalot, clapping his hands. “I knew you could do it!”

“And what about: ‘That’s just revisionist thinking!’”

“Oh, my liege, do go on.”

“Well, how about: ‘I am unable to recall’?” As he said this, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, yes, yes, you’ve saved my life,” said Sir Fawnsalot, fanning himself with his hat.

“And one more,” said Dr. Euphemismos, smiling: ‘I must have been misquoted!’” He looked over his work and nodded his head. He blotted the foolscap once again, rolled the sheets into a tube, and tied them with a ribbon. He then stood up and handed it over to Sir Fawnsalot.

“Here, take these to your King. I’m sure he will be most pleased with you now.”

Arising from his seat and bending down on one knee, Sir Fawnsalot said, “Dr.

Euphemismos, how can I ever repay you?”

Dr. Euphemismos waved him away saying, “Go now, son.”

As Sir Fawnsalot rose to leave, Dr. Euphemismos said, “Well, there is one thing. If perchance the King should inform you that he is displeased with my words, then do this: Bow obsequiously, shake your head slowly from side to side and in a grave tone of voice say: “Mistakes might have been made, Sire.

Terribly sorry.”