The Grim Arena

The gladiators draw their rubber chickens, salute the crowd, and begin their battle.
“What’s with the chickens?” asks the emperor.
“Budget cutbacks,” responded his page. “You said you’d rather have swordfish dinners instead of swords.”
The emperor patted his full belly and smiled. “I love swordfish.” And then he frowned. “But grown men whacking each other with rubber toys is boring. Can’t they just fight with their fists? Or tell the guards to toss them their weapons?”
“Budget cutbacks,” said the page. “They barely have enough weapons for their jobs.”
The emperor sighed and watched the pathetic spectacle drag on.