The Chronicles of Chill: Tithuciary Chill of Olaf

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As ye already know, brethren, there was no gaddem chill in the land. But lo, in the seats of the synagogues, the priests observed a freezing in the tithuciary attitude of their supplicants. For a voice had risen in social mediana declaring as false their teachings on tithuthification. It was the voice of a man from Laiskeenia, named Olaf. Yea, did Olaf divide the words of the ancient scrolls, asserting a different path to justification.

The priests were perplexed, for they had grown accustomed over the decades to being neither touched nor done any harm. And their supplicants cried out to them, “Give us the word which putteth Olaf to shame!” But the word came not, as the priests denounced Olaf as a heretic. And Olaf was emboldened, saying “I stand on the articles of the faith which ye profess!”, to which the response from the priests, ex cathedra, was, “It is good that a man remaineth steadfast in tithuciary tithuthification, lest he fall under divine reproach.” And the people said, “Oh. Okay, then.”

The spirit of Flowing Rider was still upon the land but yea, there were fewer people who blew his whistle baby, whistle baby. To one of those bold enough to blow his whistle baby, revealing the 7th Bravo Chamber from which copious coin had been recovered, unto him was a reward promised. But after several moons, no reward came. And when the counsel to the man petitioned the Everly Failing at Convictions Commissions, Ser Magoo declared that the reward had long since been given.

But his counsel denied it, protesting to the Social Medianites and the Digital Perusites, “Behold, when he rolleth me up to me with his squad to seek my counsel on how to break into the 7th Bravo Chamber, twas I who prevailed upon him to pray to Flowing Rider that he might blow his whistle baby, whistle baby and let the Everlies know. Now he regretteth my counsel, for he and his homies would have regulated the booty.”

Yea, did the people then remonstrate with the Everlies, “Why behaves thou like Gambrach and the Apicureans, making promises which thou intendest not to keep?” And Lady Kem Shun heard the cry and came to the aid of the Everlies, “We is gon’ pay the dude, he just need a lickle bitty patience, innit?” And Sagacious, Gambrach’s counsellor for reducing graft, hearing the uproar could no longer carry on the deception. “I shall tell ye the truth, O people”, he said. “The truth is that the greatest High Priests in the kingdom have ventured into the supernatural realms over the 7th Bravo Chamber booty, and have seen that the booty stasher was remiss in his tithuciary tithuthification and behold a severe divine curse resteth upon the money. If any man partaketh of it at this time, yea he shall run mad unto the third and fourth generations.”

“Maigheeeurd!!!!” exclaimed the people, for they had never heard anything like that. And behold there was unchill. But there was more to come.

For lo, did word come unto the people that the apprentice centres for Gambrach’s armies would no longer admitfemale recruits. “Whyyyyy????” asked the people in consternation. “Because”, came the reply, “these women infuse the apprentice centres with sexiness and slay-queendom, distracting their male counterparts and rendering them dullards in training and surpassing them in intellect. Yea, this is all forbidden by the northerosi priests.”

“Tis most unfair,” protested the people. “Obey before complain,” came the reply from the generals.

Twas the reverse in the constabulary, where the High Constable, Heebra Driss had been accused of rapidly advancing the careers of the female subordinates with whom he was having frequent bodily congress. Incensed, enraged and boiling with uncontrollable anger, Ser Heebra confronted his accuser saying, “O thou ignorant, barbaric fool! How darest thou tarnish me with such defamatory insinuations? Thou sayest the female constables with whom I have coitus are rapidly promoted. What informeth thy surprise? Know ye not that my ejaculate maketh them wiser and giveth them uncommon strength? Art thou suggesting it should have retarded their progress? How very uncustard of you!”

And in their unchill, the people were so amazed.

In the kingdom of Nambria, electoralis was upon the land, as the quadrannium of Working Willie Wonka. Contending with him for the throne were Wonye West of Apicuria, Bazil Oka of Padipalia, Doka Cola of Upper Volta and Wingo Starr, formerly of the land of milk and honey.

Yea, did they gather before Thankful Peacock, political engager extraordinaire, to do verbal joust before the people, that by their words the Nambrians would know them. Behold it was a night of supreme oratory gladiation and at the end of it, the people yinmued at Wingo Starr and Wonye West. Wingo had only a beatle of a chance and Wonye had a Kar crashian of a night.

In Bedrock, Gambrach had been monitoring the joust in earnest. He was not much of jouster himself, having dodged the jousts at the end of the Gejoshaphatian quadrannium (he’d had a sudden bout of bone spurs) and watched the battle unfold in awe. At the end, he knew Wonye West was in trouble. He turned to Osinoshin and said, “tell them to ready the winged chariot.”

“Sire, thou goest to Jandinia again?” Gar Bar asked.

“No”, said Gambrach, “to Nambria.”

“Nambria!!!????” the courtesans all chorused in genuine surprise.

“Yes. And the Kingdom of Bonyi M, too.”

“Glorious, most beautiful King”, said FemCallamitus, “excellent King. I bow before your throne. Oh King, thou realisest that Bonyi M and Nambria are in…in…in…south easteros?”

“Yes! Now get the gaddem winged chariot ready and tell the Nambrians to expect me!”

“FUUUUUUNKEEEE!!!!” exclaimed Osinoshin.

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Chronicles of Chill: The El-Farquaadian Purge

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Brethren, the flames of the saga of Oje Marina were fanned when Lady Yita, head of the King’s Service, revealed to the people that Gambrach was well aware of Oje Marina’s return to the kingdom. “Behold, after our weekly meeting of FECundity, I sought a moment to bring the news of the machinations to him. But yea, he believed I sought a moment of capture, for all he did was look around for Moborious, conjuring him forth with the ancient words, ‘Inner Bahyour’. Wherefore his surprise surpriseth me.”

And Kyocera, head of the King’s staff at Bedrock was livid. “Why tellest thou the people this lie? Confess, Gejoshaphat turneth thee, hath he not?” And all at the FECund could see Kyocera remonstrating with her before Osinoshin. “But the people believe me to have done nothing to stop it”, she protested. “Then why takest thou not the arrow for thy King?” asked Kyocera. “Because,” retorted Lady Yita, rolling her eyes, “ye wilt not ferry me to the Jandinian meisters for my wounds to be tended!!!” And yea, did the storm of unchill continue to rumble.

Thus it was, in that day, that Ro Chazz and the Imolekites expected anon the visit of Queen Uncleflower of the neighbouring foreign kingdom of Libarty. Queen Uncleflower was the first lady in the realm of Frikkar to win electoralis and had spent time as a warden of the Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana before ruling her people. But the people were alarmed nonetheless, for Ro Chazz was bound to unveil another of his erections.

Lo, this troubled even the scribes and handmen of Ro Chazz. “Oh great and wise erectile King, reconsider this plan, we beseech thee!” they pleaded. But Ro Chazz was adamant. “Wherefore shall I withhold my glorious erection for Queen Uncleflower? Is she not deserving of it?”

“Unbelievably so, sire” replied his goons, “but surely sire, in today’s world of Ser Wine Steene, a king must be careful.”

Yea, twas the day of Ser Wine Steene, mogul of the theatre in Trumpetistan. For his dramatisations, he had achieved great global renown but yea was he now renown for erectile revelations of sexosomatic and predatory nature. Lo, this distinction was not lost on Ro Chazz, for he said, “Behold, unlike Ser Wine Steene, my erection is built of concrete and metal, not flesh. And I shall reveal it to Queen Uncleflower. I am completely firm on the matter. It will be unsheathed!” So the scribes protested no further and shut their ears to the rumbling unchill.

In Boo Jar, it was time once again for Gambrach to present the coinage to the Kingdom. Alas, it coincided with the unearthing of the Shangrilarian Scrolls, wherein the secrets of the well-heeled were inscribed. And yea, did they shew that Mefilius, Warden of the Iron Bank of Boo Jar, together with his Irish mentor, Gym o’Veagh, had acquired winged chariots but had chosen to indicate their ownership in a Shangrilarian territory. Abushola, the warden of senatii, was also named in the Shangrilarian Scrolls. And lo, twas the ward of both Mefilius and Abushola that they remembered not their Shangrilarian affairs, as they suffered from amnesia taxomasis.

Behold, both were present as King Gambrach delivered the coinage to the people. Lady Kem Shun was also present, punctuating the King’s speech with the obligatory “Skraaaaa!!!” or “Boom!!!” or “Yes, fam!” to show her support for the King. Yea, did the King’s delivery last an hour and 9 minutes – and Gyretta was full of praise for the King, for he stood for so long. Even the King was proud of himself – “69 issa very good number, no?” he was heard to have remarked to his courtesans afterwards.

“Oh my King!” proclaimed FemCallamitus after the delivery of the coinage, “thou wert truly magnificent and full of splendour as thou…”

“Thou thinkest I seest thou not in deep slumber?”

“Oh no, my lord” replied FemCallamitus, displaying unusual quick thinking, “the truly open eye that beholdeth thy glory for too long shall wither and perish. Tis why my eyes were intermittently shut. Even Gar Bar’s too. Not so, Gar Bar?”

But Gar Bar had scuppered off, not wanting to be unevenly yoked with a slumberer. The eye that loveth Gambrach neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, he thought to himself, behind the curtain.

And even as the Lovengers proclaimed the greatness of the coinage, the wailers of the kingdom and taken their fine toothcombs and magnifying glasses to pore over its details, and twas clear that there was a huge deficiendo fiscalimensis therein. It could only be plugged by resort to borrowing. Yea, even  Melancholy’s, the global raters of coinage, saw it and warned all the Iron Banks of the world to be wary of the Kingdom of Gambrach.

Naturally, this warning was protested by the King’s Treasury, under the wardenship of Lady Kem Shun. “Nah, mates. We is not agreein wiv the warning from Melancholy’s, ya get me blud? Like’ it’s just their opinion, innit? If it’s just because of the borrowing ting, fam, everybody borrowing though, nuffing new there bruv. If we is doing the quick maffs and paying back as due and all, then Melancholy’s is wrong yeah? And anyway,miss me wiv taking financial advice from peoples whose names means sad, grim and gloomy. My synonyms game is hot, fam!

And the unchill continued to rumble on.

In the El-Farquaadian kingdom of Dunamis, a great unchill was afoot. Momodeen, relative by marriage and boy to bard Samuelo, oracle to the privileged elite, precursor in imagery to Moborius, had foretold of the abandonment of Gambrach by Shiwajun and his westerosi squad. King El-Farquaad believed Momodeen and knew that he had to do something drastic to keep the westerosi allegiance. So he summoned his council for them to have a thunderstorm of brains.

“How shall we appease the westerosi?”

“There is no appeasing them, my Lord. Just see how greatly thou art despised of the Social Medianites.”

“Even unto the intellectuals?”

“Yea, even unto the sapiosexuals, great King. Take no heed of them, my liege, for they thrive only on garrulous verbosity and being sesquipedalian.”

“Hmmmm,” thought King El-Farquaad, “can we not make our kingdom sesquipedalian and flood Social Mediana and drive out these heretics?”

“Yes, but how does this preserve the treaty with Shiwajun and the westerosi, o King?” asked one councillor, to which another replied, “When they see that we are now, uhm, sexy pedallions, they might have a rethink.” He did not understand why there was such a loud outburst of laughter. But he was right.

So, King El-Farquaad sent out an edict that all tutors in the King’s Schools were to be tested for competency. And after they were examined, yea did the number that fell short amount to a thousand score.

“My Lord, shall we conscript the failures into our army? For they shall make up 20 legions easily.”

“We have no army, imbecile. Only the great throne has an army attached to it.”

“Pardon me my Lord. Shall we retrain them, then?”

“Squire,” replied the King, “how shall a seamstress that knoweth not how to thread a needle be retrained? Nay. We shall hire new tutors. And we shall banish the totally failing tutors from the King’s schools. Purge the Tutelage.”

“Banish 20,000 tutors, sire? Twenty thousand????”

“Did I stutter?”

Behold, the news came into Social Mediana and unto the Digital Perusites. And there was no gaddem chill, nary a jot or speculum of it, in all the land!

 

 

 

 

The Chronicles of Chill: Oje Marina

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Brethren, we commence this Chronicle with a Nollywoodianic flashback to the quadrannium of King Gejoshaphat. In that day, there was a Sheriff of Pensions known as Oje Marina, for everything about his story was unbelievable. There was nothing that was said about him that was not fantastic. Thus it was that the Kalahari Newsbearers broke the news that Oje Marina had catapulted One Hundred Billion shekels from the Kingdom’s pensions to some unknown destination.

Yea, when Gejoshaphat heard of it, he was furious and could not contain it. Marina was stripped of his Sheriffship. Behold, the Everly Failing at Convictions Commissions could not take it either, and they sent their very finest bloodhounds to sniff Marina out. Oje Marina knew the game was up and said unto himself, “behold, I am in the deepest of shits. Yea, shall I flee to Doo Bahee, where others like Lord Farquaad before me have also sought refuge.” And lo, did he send himself into exile.

Now again in Nollywoodianic manner shall we return from our flashback, to the era of the quadrannium of Gambrach. For news came to the people that Oje Marina had been restored to his Sheriffship and appointed to an even higher command under the Zazu, the dodo, Gambrach’s councillor for domestic matters.

But even though it was Oje Marina, the people believed it not. “Surely, it canst not be, that a common thief would be restored to nobility in the Kingdom,” they said. Alas, it was to be the wawu of wawus, for not only was Marina back, it was with the connivance of Bar Kar, Gambrach’s Head Pharisee and chief lawman (though many were beginning to think the last ‘n’ was silent).

And there was no gaddem chill in the land. For even the Lovengers that remained were aghast. “Surely, he that cometh to save the Kingdom, Gambrach our messiah, who neither slumbereth nor sleepeth save for when he voyageth to Jandinia, is aware of this mendacity ,” they wondered.

Yea, did the cries of the unchilled reach Bedrock, where Gambrach had just returned from Constantinople, where he had done nothing and achieved nothing. “Marina canst not be my super sheriff,” it was said that Gambrach said. “Ye shall banish him from my majestic service immediately!”

But this was Oje Marina. His story was made up of the completely unbelievable. Thus did his kinsmen summon all the newsbearers of the kingdom to reveal the position of their golden circle. “People of the Kingdom, Citizens of Social Mediana,” said Li Quan Yu, their spokesperson, “this news confuseth us, the kinsmen of Marina. For twas at the behest of the sheriffs and councillors of Gambrach that Marina returned from his exile. For yea, they saw him as one of uncommon wit and wisdom, whose acumen they were needful of. Behold, twas them who asked him back to give them the sense of which they were in great lack and yea did they assign men of the Deliverance Squad Squadron to protect him.”

And the people, sore unchilled, erupted. “Are the councillors of Gambrach bereft of neurological functionality?” they asked. “How seek they counsel from Oje Marina? How can anyone with half a brain believe Oje Marina?”

The scribes of Gambrach were alarmed. Lay Si attempted to distance himself from FemCallamitus and Gar Bar as usual, but they refused to fall for it on this occasion. It was grave, for even FemCallamitus knew that yet another canticle of posterior-kissing praise to Gambrach would do no good on this occasion. For once though, he had a useful idea. “Blame it on Gejoshaphat,” he said.

“But Gejoshaphat expelled Marina from the Royal Sheriffs,” said Lay Si.

“Aye,” said FemCallamitus, “but thou knowest he is the source of all Gambrach’s troubles. For Gambrach is as fragrant as the lily of the valley; as shiny as the bright morning star, as resplendent as the rose of shar…”

“SHUT UP THY GADDEM MOUTH!!!!!” shouted Lay Si and Gar Bar in unison. And FemCallamitus went off to sulk in the corner. “I shall go to the people,” Gar Bar decided.

Lo, did Gar Bar go into Twillistia, Digital Perusia and Social Mediana to proclaim a new message to the people on Marina. “People of the Kingdom, lovers of Gambrach, lend me thine ears. The evil that Gejoshaphat does lives long after his quadrannium, for tis because of him and his moles that Oje Marina returneth to the Royal Sheriffs.”

But the people did not believe Gar Bar. “Swearragahd dudes,” said Gar Bar, “this is the work of Gejoshaphat and his fifth columnists, for Gambrach is a …”

Alas, Gar Bar could not finish his sentence, for an angry citizen had thrown a rotten tomato into his mouth. “We know tis Oje Marina. We shall believe you not!”

Yea, did Gar Bar return to Bedrock with the news to Gambrach. “My liege, it seemeth that the people believe no more anything which we say.”

“But ye are my scribes, and I am Gambrach the Great, first of my name, conqueror of za ozza room, unsullied by the times. Yea, like the Trumpetistani bard Tee Eye. am I Allergic to the counterfeit and impartial to the politics, inarticulate, but still wallahi, I grab a corrupt nuccur by za collar quick!”

“Your Majesty, wallahi, that currency is all spent now. The people believe us no more and yea, is there not a jot of chill to be found in the kingdom.”

And truly, there was no gaddem chill in the land. Behold, not a gaddem speculum was to be found.

The Chronicles of Chill: Erecktaillo Dyzfunctionalis

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The people of Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana heard the words of Lady Kem Shun and the words filled them with alarm. “On the borrowments, thou needest to cool down a little”, they told her, to which Kem Shun replied, “Man’s not hot, though!”

In the faraway Kingdom of Kossisee, the people were under the reign of King Jay-Kurrb. Unlike Kings Mandillas and Beckie who ruled before him, King Jay-Kurb was not much loved of his people. He believed in the mystical power of his bathtub to save him from post-coital leprosy, for it was made by famous tub carver Naman Jordan. And yea, was Jay-Kurrb also highly pilferous, and lo did he have 40 score charges of corruption pending against him with the magistrates – the first King of Kossisee to be so accused. But Jay-Kurrb was to find redemption in the Imolekkite kingdom of Ro Chazz.

Like Jay-Kurrb, Ro Chazz also found it hard to win the love of his people. He boasted of spoiling them with the best of the best of infrastuctural delights, but yea were there none to be seen. And when King Ro Chazz heard of the difficulties of King Jay-Kurrb, he decided to summon him over to Imolek for a day of feasting and debauchery. Jay-Kurrb voyaged to Imolek and yea, like the ancient prophet Ferris Beuller, he had a hell of a day off.

Lo, did they party and feast and Jay-Kurrb was conferred with the highest prefecture of the Imolekkites. And behold, at the end of the day, just before he departed for Kossissee, Ro Chazz called him aside.

“Jay-Kurrb!”, Ro Chazz called.

“Barrddest!”, came the reply.

“Jay-Kurrb!!!”

“Barrdesst!!!”

“Jay-Kurrb, I have a huge erection for you. Come outside let me show you.”

And Jay-Kurrb went outside and saw that Ro Chazz had erected a huge, shiny golden statue. “Oh Ro Chazz, I’m honoured, but what wilt thy pensioners whose pensions thou has halved say?”

“They can shovituptheirezz. I am proud of my big, shiny erection for thee!”

And of course, there was no chill in the Kingdom. Behold, even in Kossissee, there was an eruption of mirthful unchill, for they could not fathom it. “Keep Jay-Kurrb and let us have the gold statue in his place, for this wouldest be of greater use to us.”

Gambrach could see the mercury of the Unchillometer pushing through to new highs and knew that something had to be done. “Come hither, my council. It seemeth that we lose the love and chill of the people. How canst we turn za tide?”

“Oh Gambrach most gracious and fragrantly divine” said FemCallamitus, “Let me tell thy people of my love for thee yet again. I am sure it will turn their hearts.”

“Ah, FemCallamitus, alas that is all thou art useful for. I need real solutions, however.”

“Sire, a lot of the unchill cometh from South Easteros,” said Osinoshin. “Shall we dazzle them with your Easterophilia?”

“Aha! Good idea!”

“Wilst thou go into South Easteros to shew them thy love? Remember, electoralis is at hand in Nambria.”

“I? South Easteros? Never, wallahi! I shall send thee in my place. Behold, I depart for Constantinople even. Peace out.” And he ascended into the winged chariot with Lady Yeeshah, who had just emerged from the other room.

And so Osinoshin sighed and set out for Nambria. As he departed Bedrock, Gar Bar and FemCallamitus sent pigeons across the 37 kingdoms to let the people know that 40 years after the Frabanian rebellion, the lovely and magnanimous Gambrach had decided to approve the payment of gratuity to the Frabanian Legion, “…for he loveth thee!”

And when Osinoshin reached Nambria, he also announced to the people that Gambrach had physically trekked across the seven hills and swum the seven lagoons to reach the Iron Bank, to secure 2 gatrillion trumpetistani shekels to build a second bridge over troubled waters, so they could lay themselves down, “…for he loveth thee!”

But Osinoshin’s squire, unaware of the love-showing plan, sent a corrigendum out into the Kingdom. It was not trumpetistani shekels – it was the coin of the Kingdom. Yea, did the people hear it and lo, was there nary a gaddem speculum of chill in the land.

The Chronicles of Chill: The Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana

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Word came to E-Dawg that his epistle to King Gambrach had been intercepted by the Priests of Blog and had been revealed to the 37 Kingdoms by the Kalahari Newsbearers and that the people held him Puppyfied for it. He was incensed.

“Nah, nah, naaaaaaah. Y’all ain’t gon’ punk me like that. Y’all tryna puppyfy me? Me??? Shiiiii… Y’all don’t even know who you messing with.” And so he sent a raven to his cousin E-Swag, in his native kingdom of Deltonia, bearing a message which read, “Eh yo, Eh yo, E-Swag. What up cuz? Yo, real quick, remember that time when we was kids and went hunting with grandpa? And it was me that handed you the arrow you handed to grandpa and he killed a leopard?  Man, I be needing to borrow that leopard real quick. Imma bring it back, nahmsayin, I just need to re-dawg myself right now. People be looking at me, calling me E-Puppy yo.”

So E-Swag went into the ancestral chambers and retrieved the leopard. Yea, did E-Dawg dance into Twillistia and Social Mediana wearing the leopard as robes, holding a spear aloft. And all who beheld him beheld a warrior. But E-Swag laughed, saying “Puh-lease! Ain’t no one believe you killed no damn leopard.”

And while the commotion of the leopardised E-Dawg endured yet, the scribes of the Kingdom’s Petrolatery, where Baruch was Warden, blasted their trumpets and proclaimed to the Kingdom, “Hear ye, hear ye. E-Dawg slandereth our great and almighty Baruch. We shall not stand for the defamation of our great and mighty leader. For he doeth as he should and seeketh authority from whence it cometh. Authority cometh not from east or west or south. It cometh from Gambrach, he that sitteth on the throne. E-Dawg, unfortunate sod, canst not bulldoze with swag nor de-obfuscate with flowery epistles that which the Elementals designed to be nebulous, esoteric and amorphous. Is he a learner?”

Behold, the people were amazed, for the workers and cargomen of petrolatum all assembled to show solidarity with Baruch. Yea, even Gambrach attended the temple with Baruch, with Moborious in tow to ensure that all could see. “Issallova Jackie” E-Swag whispered to E-Dawg, “dunncry, dunnbeg.”

But in Dunamis, there was a loud sound of crying and begging, for King El-Farquaad had set an elementary competency challenge for tutors in his kingdom and maigheeeurd, they failed it woefully. “Ye shall be replaced, even though ye be a multitude,” proclaimed El-Farquaad. “Dunndodeeze”, they pleaded, but El-Farquaad would not have it. “For which amongst you wouldst continue patronage of a physician at whose hands several have died – a Deadington – wouldst thou?” And the people were all silent.

All except Lady Yeeshah, wife of Gambrach, and her daughter Princess Asos, wife of Noodlinho. “We have had too much gaddem chill over this matter and enough has become enough. Why hath the infirmary at Bedrock neither the skill nor competence to cater to our beloved Gambrach, causing him to seek relief in Jandinia. Why, o head physician, why?”

“M-m-m-my ladies, I d-d-d-do my job with all diligence…” stammered the head physician of the Bedrock infirmary. And the ladies both replied, in the words of the great Lateefex Kayodensis, “WHAT KIND OF JOB YOU DOING??? YOU ARE NOT ONLY THE ONE THAT DEY THERE!!!!”

Behold, Yode of Ekitilopia heard these words and decided that Gambrach was not the only one that dey there either. He pondered in his heart and decided to announce to the people that he would contest the throne at the upcoming electoralis. “Wawu,” thought the people, “Electoralis Federalis is yet 2 years away.” But even the house of Apicuria in the South declared that electoralis would be open to all, that Gambrach would not necessarily return unopposed. And the people heard this in surprise and declared the words of the famous bard Veekow, “Uh oh, uh oh, isgerring crazy in here…”

Further on electoralis, there were whispers that Arty Cool would return to Padipalia to contend with Gambrach for the throne. And when Gambrach heard the whispers, he called a meeting of his inner council in his sanctum. “Where shall we strike Arty Cool?” he asked in his usual manner. “Let us hit him where it shall hurt him the most – Pentiumz” came the reply.

Pentiumz was Arty Cool’s golden goose venture. It was located at a mercantile sea port and it entailed welcoming large seafaring vessels into the kingdom from the high seas. The instruction from Gambrach was to bring an end to the arrangement. “Sire”, said Bar Kar the Head Pharisee, “there is the matter of signed agreement binding the crown to Pentiumz.”

To which Gambrach replied, “Well, thou art the expert in the matters of law…” and left the room. Wherefore wrote Bar Kar to Lady Bar Lar, Warden of the King’s Royal Ports, saying, “Whereas Pentiumz welcometh large vessels into the Kingdom at the behest of the King, and collecteth tarriff therefrom and remitteth to the treasury, and whereas it was the Royal Pharisees which drew up the contract between Pentiumz and the Royal Ports, take ye notice that we messeth up bigly and must now rescind the contract, for it runneth contrary to the golden laws of our Kingdom. Tis confusing, I know, but just take it like that. Cancel the gaddem thing” 

At the same time, Lady Kemshun, Head of the Coinery knew she had to respond to the various accusations that Mefilius and the Iron Bank of Boo Jar were merely minting more coin to keep the Kingdom afloat. Therefore she addressed the people on the matter in a speech in the village square.

“Whaa’gwan peeps? How you doing, my bredrens? Fam, we need to kill this mad ting rumours about the econominics though. Like, peoples is really bovvered and all about the loans and the lending ting. But King Gambrach’s plan for managing the econominics is mad peng, innit? Cos, like, even though the price of the petrolatums went skrraaaap, pap, pap, pap, pap, pumpum, we’s now out of the depressions and ting. We is not borrowing to cripples the next generation, you get me – we’s borrowing to build the infrastructuralls for them. Boom, selecta!”

The people knew not what to make of it. They were uneasy, but there was a semblance of chill across the kingdom. Then came word from Young Jim, head of the Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana that Gambrach had said to him many moons ago, that it was his wish for the Great Iron Bank to focus any relief it intended for the Kingdom on the north side of the 37 kingdoms.

Brethren, twas unchill like a snake swallowed a porcupine and shredded its own innards. “Aha! He hideth it no more! He sheweth it for all to see!” There was no gaddem chill.

Lady Zek Way, herself an alumna of the Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana, rushed to Twilistia to calm the Social Medianites. “Brethren, tis not what ye thinketh,” she proclaimed, “for GRIBB focuseth on North Easteros to remediate what the Haramites destroyed…”

Yea, there would have been chill. But FemCallamitus would never pass up an opportunity to show Gambrach how he was the most loving and worthy scribe. He also rushed to confront the Social Medianites and the Digital Perusites, screaming, “Ye gaddem haters! Ye gaddem wailers! May the gods punish una papas. Ye ignorant liars spawned of gaddem empty barrels. Ye knowest what thou shouldest do? You need to shovitupyouress! Haters, shovitupyouress!!!!

And just when it seemed the volcano of unchill could erupt no further, news reached the people that the royal consents Baruch purportedly received, of which he told E-Dawg to shovituphizzess, were given during the pretend reign of Pretend King Osinoshin. But Osinoshin gave no Royal consents…

The plot thickened and there was no gaddem chill in the land.

The Chronicles of Chill: The Puppyfication of E-Dawg

And so it was, after the Ipobusinian Waltz that nothing was heard further from Car Knoo. The people knew not whether he remained in the kingdom or had been forcefully transmogrified into glory by the marching healers of the King’s Battalion. And yea, did a decree go out from the King’s Palace in Bed Rock banishing the Ipobusinians and forbidding the mention of their name, for it was a word that aggravated the King’s Many Years Disease.

And behold, was word had yet again from Daisy Annie, through her law men, in the trials of Luko Skywalker and Ko-Ray the Jedi. “The Crown listeth me in these charges yet nameth me not as an accused. This is repugnant to my holy religious belief and I pray the court, in the name of all the gods of justice, to add me as a defendant, that I mayest clear my unjustly besmirched name.” But the King’s law men, of the Everly Failing  at Convictions Commission, knew they were everly failers and would need help in charging Daisy Annie. Hence, they demurred and the magistrate agreed with the Everlies.

It was in that day that word came to the people that the Kingdom was short of coin but there was no cause for alarm. This was because the Iron Bank of Boo Jar, under the headship of Mefilius, idiaminically been minting more to cover the deficit. For Mefilius was not an Obote man.

And the people asked, “Is this how the Jandinian Meisters are being paid for their tending to Gambrach?” Wherefore Lar-Yi came unto them, saying “Have ye not heard of public-private partnerships? Thus shall a king make use of public coin for his health and the details of his ailments remain private. Ask ye not this question ever again. Let them who are distressed by this fact climb up the highest peak of the rocks of zuma, dance the dance of one corner with the tree there and cast themselves off the rock, smashing their heads into smithereens. Selah.”

And as the people, unchilled, grumbled their protestations, the priests and prophets of Blog received secret revelations of a scroll of great bombast, from E-Dawg to Gambrach. And the prophets of Blog shewed the scroll to the people.

For many moons, E-Dawg had been quiet, hidden away from the public eye, diminished in swag and the people had wondered why. The answer was in the bombastic scroll. It read thus –

“Yo, Gambrach, my neezie, my king for life. How’s it hanging in your hood, bro? I’ve been tryna hook up witchu for a mad minute now but your goons be fencing me dawg. I ain’t mad at you, even though we was once two bruvas of the same kind, quick to holler at corruption with the same line; but then this niccur Baruch, mehnnn, you need to reign him in is all I’m saying. He needs to come correct.

“Now, we all know you made me the boss. I’m the big kahuna, the main connect, the uber distro. This Baruch dude is only a soldier. A king soldier, yes, but a soldier nonetheless. And you know, if I say Whoop, Baruch gotta come quick with the “there it is”. But dude ain’t like that no mo’. Doing deals, selling the yayo petrolatum without my say so, even though we all be knowing that ain’t how it’s supposed to go down.

“I told him, dude I am your boss, the first of my name, wearer of the unsullied blue chinchilla, swaggerrific in all my ways – you need to check that attitude and show me some gratitude. And he be like ‘Pssh, you ain’t shit!’. To my face, O triple OG King, to my damn face!!!

“Now, you know I ain’t no punk. I be making reforms up in this joint like you told me to. And I KNOW he ain’t getting the juice for abuse from you. So I just need to know, is I is or is I ain’t in charge here? Cos this niccur Baruch be stressing me, testing me, vexing me and damn near hexing me. You need to tell him to be nice to me and to bend his gaddem knee. You dig?”

And there was no gaddem chill in the land. For it was true that E-Dawg had been shorne of his swag. He was no longer E-Dawg. He was now E-Puppy.

puppy.jpg

Chronicles of Chill: Waltz of The Ipobusinian Python

Dancing Python.jpg

Brethren, it is an ancient edochian saying of the peoples of South Easteros that when an anaconda encountereth a talking drum, the drummer should not be surprised when the anaconda transformeth into a dancing python.

It may be recalled, as was written in the Chronicle of the Frabanian Sabbath of the Ipobusites, that Car Knoo, chief priest of the Ipobusites was held in the dungeons against the orders of the magistrates until the enclavement of King Gambrach.

Yea, did the magistrates command Car Knoo upon his release, “Ye shall refrain from Ipobusinian proclamations and public address until the end of thy charge. Go ye and STFU in thy house.”

And lo, when Car Knoo reached his house, an ocean of new acolytes awaited him, brimming with Ipobusinian fervour. “What is this?” Car Knoo asked his head disciple. “Holy One,” the disciple called him for the very first time, “thy people are gathered here for thy benediction.”

“For reals?” asked Car Knoo

“Hell, yeah” said his disciple.

And so Car Knoo raised both fists in the air and a spark akin to an electrical charge rippled through the assembly. “My people! I bless thee – in the name of the Joo Kwoo, the Frabania and the Car Knoo!”

The people cheered loudly and Car Knoo never hesperred what happened next, for a crack of lightning rent the skies, the heavens opened and a pillar of light burst forth onto Car Knoo. And behold, as the light faded, Car Knoo was transformed before the eyes of all who stood there. He no longer wore pants, but was draped in a cloth bearing the insignia of zion. His hand was no longer clenched – No! For what was once a fist had been transformed into a hand holding the sacred fan of the half sun. Yea, was his head no longer bare; he now wore the feathered red cap of edochenian wisdom. In that moment, Car Knoo heard a voice of greater authority than the magistrate that set him free.

Ngwanu, thou are now too much!” exclaimed the disciple.

“That is, ehn!” replied Car Knoo.

Twas as Car Knoo basked in the novelty of his supernatural endowment that Gambrach returned from Jandinia and suffered Pestilencio Ekutensis. And word came to Gambrach that Car Knoo was no longer in the dungeons.

“For reals?” asked Gambrach.

“Let it not trouble you, Sire” said Gar Bar. “Instead, delight yourself on the exploits of the Sporting Eagles of the Kingdom as they do battle with the fake lion cubs of Mer Roon.”

Yea, as Gambrach observed the sporting hostilities through his medium viewing prism, Moborius inner-bahyoured and captured the image of the moment. When Gar Bar viewed the image, he was overcome with Lovengious emotion and burst into scroll, “Oh what a King! He chooses to view life through a simple, narrow prism, unlike many before him. Blessed am I to be his scribe. Behold, ye peoples, ye are blessed to have him as King.”

But the people paid Gar Bar no mind. For in South Easteros, the voice of Car Knoo was growing louder and yea did more people swear fealty to him. Daily he preached to the people, “Repent, for Frabania is at hand. Yea, shall we build a new Frabania – in our hearts and then on this soil. Behold, any South Easterosi who would put himself under the authority of a non- South Easterosi is very uncustard – yea is he even a bastard!”

The Kings and Wardens of South Easteros knew not what to do. Electoralis was due in Nambia, where the viagranian King Willy had been working hard, and surely Car Knoo could be controlled to bring his people to their side, they thought.

Alas, Car Knoo grew in irreverance, antagonising the entire Kingdom as he sought to build his new Frabania. The Young Rewanian Northerosi men declared irratatum and announced that no South Easterosi was to remain in that part of the Kingdom. The Kings of Northerosi moved quickly to quell the rising disquiet, but Gambrach (former man of Gunn) had had enough. He summoned the generals of his armies.

“Dudes. Car Knoo. Ye shall resolve this crisis.”

“Sire, pardon our impudence, but has the constabulary been deployed?”

Walahi, he pisseth me off” said Gambrach.

“Sire, the law of the land is that we can only be deployed against insurrection. What shall we tell the people if we march into South Easteros?”

“Ye shall tell them that ye bring healing and deliverance unto their lands” replied Gambrach.

“Like the physicians of yore?” asked the Generals.

“Yes! In fact, ye shall name your march after the symbol of the physicians.”

“Aye, sire! We see it now. We shall call our march ‘the march of the waltzing python’.”

Behold, the army began their march and there was a rumble across the land. The people protested, for the kingdom was not at war and they feared for their lives. “Chill, yo! We come in peace. We are only a Waltzing Python, bringing healing against kidnapping and violence.”

But there was no gaddem chill. For the Haramite tribe of Boko was still a scourge in the Northerosi part of the country. And news spread of followers of Car Knoo being put to the sword.

“No, no, no!” the people cried. “Stop it! Leave us!” Owen Brett Hart, scribe to the King of Abbiah cried daily in Social Mediana, “the Kings of Easterosi will keep the peace. Why continuest thou to march, o armies of Gambrach?”

“But we come in peace, like the pythons on the physicians’ staff” the armies maintained, as Ipobusinians fell away. Behold, Car Knoo was nowhere to be seen.

The people cried for the King to answer them and return chill to the land. “Oh Gambrach, king of justice, speak to us, tell us every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

Yea, did Gambrach hear thy cry. “Gar Bar, Callamitus!” he called out to his scribes, “tell the coachmen to ready the winged chariot.”

“Are we flying into the heartland to address the people?” they asked Gambrach.

“Hell, no! We are flying to Trumpstantinople and then, all this noise of the people bringeth back my Many Years Disease affliction, as well as the mysterious and secret affliction which must not be named. We shall stop briefly in Jandinia and see the meisters before I return.”

And when the people heard again of yet another Jandinian sojourn, they lost it. And there was no gaddem chill in the land.

 

The Chronicles of Chill: Pestilencio Ekutensis

rats

Brethren, there have been revelations. The Tword has been speaking but the profundity of the visions have been overwhelming. The challenge of writing them was too great. Yea, did the Chronicler break all his quills and spill all his ink in amazement. Behold, he had to order new parchment and writing material from the Amazonian forest in Bezos and lo, did they arrive in prime time.

And so, it was revealed that when Lar Yi and the Beacons of Lie[t] returned from Jandinia, they were in peak delirum, especially FemCallamitus, who broke out into song – “Yea, like a pussy cat, I voyaged to London to see my King. Behold, I thought he would grab me with passion, like the Trumpet of Trumpstantinople but alas he did not. And when I saw my King in Jandinia, what did I do there? Ask my wife and children, they know my face is scary in private. I frightened away all the little mice under my King’s chair! It was a glorious time, having Holy Communion with my lord the King and his Queen before we were asked to leave, so they couldest retire to their other room.”

And a sigh of relief spread throughout the Kingdom. The King was alive and at least in a state of outer bah your.  It was only for a brief moment however, as a group of people decided to tag hashes demanding that Gambrach either abrogate his absence or abdicate the throne. “Abrogate or Abdicate!” they declared, led by renowned Irish juggernaut, Chazz O’Puta.

The constabulary of the kingdom refused to stand for it and quashed every gathering of Chazz O’Puta and his posse with the entire gamut of armoury at their disposal. Chazz and his guys were much too violent. A more peaceful procession against the Abrogate or Abdicate protests received the full blessing of the kingdom, including a battalion of constables to protect them along the way. There was only one side of this divide with fine people. So Chazz went back to Ireland.

Not long after, a ripple spread across the Kingdom that Gambrach had left his confinement in Jandinia and was returning to the kingdom. Was this a triumph for Chazz O’Puta and the people of Abrogate or Abdicate group? It did not matter. For yea, the streets were full of people of the country waiting to catch a glimpse of their king. Lo, he came on clouds descending. And his chariots could scarcely move, for the people obscured the way. Chorusing, “Welcome! O, Yo-Yo! Welcome King! O Yo-Yo!” because of the way he had swung back and forth between the kingdom and Jandinia like a yo-yo since ascending the throne.

“Fear not, good people. Your King shall address ye on the morrow.” Gar Bar informed the people. And so they waited. Behold, the morrow was soon upon them, and Gambrach spake.

Dear Subjects, it’s been a mad minute, yo! Ye have had updates on my sense of hearing, my sense of standing and my sense of humour. I know that ye hunger and thirst for more. But yeah, piss off, mates [this is a slang I learnt far away in Jandinia]. You may now laugh for a few seconds.

“Now that the laughter is out of your systems, take ye heed, that I am alarmed at the behaviour of some of you in Social Mediania and Digital Perusia. Ye have listened to the bard Robin of Thicke so much, that all the red lines of the Kingdom are now blurred. Ye shall all go to specsavers [this is another Jandinian colloquialism, for the information of ye with no foreign exposure]. You may laugh again at my robust display of sense of humour but beware the espions I have sent out amongst ye. No longer shall there be careless whispers. Gambrach out.”

The people were in a daze. Was this the reward for their earnest and fervent prayer? Had the Many Years Disease and the new mystery affliction robbed the King of the warmth of his heart?

As they turned these questions over in their hearts, a loud shriek was heard in Bedrock. It was Gambrach, and all rushed to the Throne Room to see what had disturbed him so. The first to reach him was FemCallamitus.

“Oh my King, you shriek so good. If only the haters could hear your lovely shrieking now, they would know…”

“Shut up, FemCallamitus! Shut up! Can’t you see what’s going on?”

FemCallamitus took a closer look and saw a familiar set of mice and rats, looking up menacingly at he and Gambrach. It was the mice he’d frightened from under Gambrach’s chair in Jandinia and they had drawn a red line on the floor.

“My King, I shall frighten them away again. Lemme just…”

“You not fit!” declared the head rat. Apparently the rats could talk. This was also a surprise to the Chronicler. “Face no dey fear face for here!”

By now Lar Yi, Gar Bar and Gyretta had joined them in the Throne Room.

“What manner of disrespectful rat is this?” asked Gyretta. “Knowest thou not that this is a private throne room?”

“Your Majesty, this must be the work of our detractors” said Gar Bar.

Shut up!” said a second rat. “When FemCallamitus bring him face come porshue me and Dokubz from Jandinia, e no know say we must to rayvenjje?”

“Thou art called Dokubz?” asked Gambrach. “What is your name?” he asked the other.

“Sari. Na me and Dokubz dey command all dis rat we dey here.”

“Okay, Sari and Dokubz. How shall we get thee to call off your comrades?”

“We no need anything from una. In fact, we don dey go. But just so una nor go ever try us again next time una dey Jandinia, as we no fit dey under the chair there again, Gambrach sef no go siddon on top this one. Comrades! Drakaris!!!!”

Behold, the rats ate every gaddem thing in the Throne Room. Lo, was not remaining one scroll, apart from the Kwaraptia Intrusivo scroll regarding Balavida.

“The King cannot hold court in the throne room until we repair it”, said Gar Bar.

“But the people have been waiting for him to resume at court,” said Gyretta. “What shall we tell them?”

Then FemCallamitus spoke. “Ye know that we have not been plain with the people as it pertaineth to the affliction of the King and yea, did it heat up the polity. Behold, the polity is so heated up at present, that any further pressure would cause a combustion. Tis best we tell them plainly what has happened here.”

“They will not believe that rats spoke unto us”, said Gyretta.

“No, they are not that stupid,” said Lar Yi.

“Very well, we shall leave out the part of the talking rats” said Gar Bar. “I shall deliver the message unto the people. Good idea, for once, FemCallamitus.”

Then Gar Bar sent out the word from inside Bedrock, “Behold, ye people of the Kingdom, Gambrach thy King shall not sit in the throne room for now. He worketh from his private quarters. For while he was away, the throne room was devasted by rats and now we make repair.” And he smiled, expecting the people to be happy with the truth.

But how very mistaken he was. “Rats? RATS??? YE EXPECT US TO BELIEVE THIS SHIT OF BULL????”

Behold, they were incensed. And there was no gaddem chill anywhere in the kingdom.

 

The Chronicles of Chill: Voyage to Jandinia

There was a gnashing of teeth in the land as the spirit of Har Thy Known ravaged the Kingdom.

The people grew weary of the absence of their King and encamped around Bedrock to demand news of his ailment and what the meisters had said was the affliction.

The Beacons of Lie[t] in Bedrock sought to illuminate the minds of the people. “Have ye already forgotten the bootyliciousness of Daisy Annie?” they asked. “Are ye not bothered at the gajillions of shekels which we have shown ye somewhat that she stuffed into her booty?”

“Nay!” the people answered. “Give us news of what ails our king and when he returneth in his glorious and majestic swaggerliciousness. Pretend King Osinoshin is great guy but the kingdom drifteth further and further into pretence.”

So the Beacons sent one of their number unto the people, to speak with Thankful Peacock of the Char Knells. Her name was Gyretta, for she had a fondness for the white sap of gyration from the tree of the palm.

And Thankful Peacock asked her, “Dost thou not think the time has come for ye Beacons of Lie[t] to reveal the truth about King Gambrach’s health?”

And Gyretta replied, “Verily, we say unto thee with utmost veracity, the King recovereth everyday and as ye are witnesses, the Pretend King holdeth the fort.”

“What recoverest he from, though?” asked Thankful Peacock.

“A private ailment, gaddemit! The King is private guy in a public office, undergoing a private convalescence in publicly funded quarters, eating private food provided with public money, receiving private treatment from the Jandinian meisters at the public’s expense. It’s private, gaddemit, don’t you get it? Ye would do well to refrain from insulting him further with this quest for transparency.”

Yea, did Gambrach hear of her exploits all the way in Jandinia and commanded, “Let Gyretta come unto me, for she has done much heavy labour. She deserveth some rest. Let FemCallamitus come as well, for though he writeth gibberish, I know he doeth it for the love of the game.”

Behold, thus it was that the Beacons of Lie[t], namely, Lar-Yi, Gar Bar, FemCallamitus, Gyretta (the scribes of Gambrach) and Bee Ree (Gambrach’s Adviser on Those Who Had Seen The Light and Escaped the Kingdom) all got on a ship and sailed to Jandinia.

On arriving at the Jandinian Docks, they ran into many of the kings from the 36 kingdoms, who had also come to see the King.

“How is my beloved King, most Davidic, Solomonic and merciful?” asked FemCallamitus. It was King Ro Chazz of Imolek that answered, “Yea, our King is bam! And behold, his pet dog – SenseofHumour – is now so frisky, he has put it on a leash. Ye can scratch SenseofHumour behind its ears or tummy. Such a mischievous puppy, it filleth the room with laughter.”

“Oh, how I have missed SenseofHumour in Bedrock!” exclaimed Gar Bar.

“A word of caution though”, said King Jimobite of Oyossinia. “Ye must now pay an admission fee to gain an audience with King Gambrach.”

“Why?” asked Bee Ree

“Have ye not heard? His audiences are now managed by the famous Madam Two Swords establishment.”

“Our King is so brilliant. He earneth coin for the Kingdom even in his convalescence.” said FemCallamitus.

And so the Beacons paid the entrance fee to Madam Two Swords to see King Gambrach. Gambrach greeted them with a dazzling smile. While they had expected to see him wearing his brown robes of convalescence, they were overcome with joy seeing him in a holy white, majestic tunic. Lar-Yi was so overcome with joy that the spasms racked his body and he doubled over in rapturous pain.

“Outer Bah Your” said Gambrach, and Moborius emerged, clad in the Spartan Belts of Leonidas, and he quickly painted the portrait of the King and the Beacons.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, SenseofHumour jumped on Lar-Yi, licking his face as he wagged his tail in earnest canine playfulness. The whole room burst into laughter. “Ah, SenseofHumour” chuckled Lar-Yi, “I thought they said you’d been put on a leash now.”

Yea, did another puppy run into the room, this time rubbing itself against Bee Ree’s legs and rolling over on its back, indicating it wanted to be tickled.

“Your Majesty has a new dog?” asked Gar Bar.

“Yes. When the meisters commanded me to remain here until they released me, they realised that SenseofHumour, who had been doing so well, was going to be lonely. So they gave me another dog to keep him company.”

“What is this new dog called?” asked Gyretta.

“His name is Banters” replied the King.

And yea, did they revel in the presence of their lord. And when they emerged from his presence, filled anew with vigour and love, and the people asked news of the King, Lar Yi responded, “It pleaseth me to tell ye that the King is hearty. Behold his SenseofHumour and Banters were thoroughly on point.”

“ALL WELL AND GOOD, BUT WHEN COMETH HE BACK? WILL HE NOT EVEN SEND WORD TO US?”

And the Beacons of Lie[t] looked at each other and in unison, closed their eyes, stuck their fingers in their ears and said the magic words “Ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne.”

Yea, did they vanish away from the people.

The people were incensed. And there was no gaddem chill.

Chronicles of Chill: The Bootyliciousness of Daisy-Annie

Booty2

Brethren, there continued to be unchill in the land. And across the Kingdoms, the people dared the gods, unmindful of the plagues of Gitis and flood with which they had struck the kingdoms of Gideria and Zamfarawayland for excessive illicit coitus. Yea, did they continue in their unbridled debauchery, breaking fornicatomatic records, pushing the needle of the fornicatometer to levels unseen since records began. And yea, did the gods unleash even an even greater deluge of floods upon the kingdoms. Behold, these floods were more dire than many had seen, submerging chariots. And the gods of subterranea were also vexed and regurgitated all the filth they had hidden and wawu, it was a fecund mess in the streets.

And the people cried, “Where is our King, that he might make intercessions and supplication unto the gods on our behalf? Oh, what a most useless and ineffectual king is Gambrach the Vanished!”

Their cries went unto Bedrock, into the chambers of the scribe FemCallamitus, who had been silent for many moons (having no gaddem king to or royal activities to record in the scrolls) and was green with envy at the acclaim that Dr Who, who was not even a courtesan, had received with his song in the Book of Face. Yea, had Dr Who received a commendation from Lady Yeeshah, as she joined her alto to Dr Who’s soprano.

“I have been silent for too gaddem long,” thought FemCallamitus to himself. “I am one of the top scribes of Gambrach my Lord and tis I who should write his canticles. When my King unvanishes, my song shalt be number one on the Gambrachian Griotic Charts. Yea, shall it be platinum.” And then he wrote, like a Kenneth Rojas.

Everyone considers him the worst King of the kingdom

He never stood a single time to prove the kingdom wrong

His Momma named him Gambrach but folks just called him Vanished

Something inside tells me, they’re reading Gambrach wrong

He’s weak like once King David was and spat on by Shimei

Shimei looked at David and concluded that he was dead

But like the sword of Abishai was given word by Sully

When my Gambrach cometh back, he’s going to chop your head. 

Gambrach my King, you remain the only one to save us all from trouble in the land; And even though you’re weak please don’t turn the other cheek, Oh Gambrach you are old but understand, you’ve gotta chop off heads when you’re a man.

And the people heard the song of FemCallamitus and laughed hard at his nincompoopery. Poopy Poopery.

And yea, in the midst of their mirth, news came to the people from Trumpstantinople of the booty of Daisy-Annie. You see, before Daisy-Annie became Gejoshaphat’s councillor for petrolatum, her booty was of a modest size. She had worked for Mollusca and her booty was nicely and judiciously oiled at the time. Lo, everything was nice and squeezy clean.

Alas, she met two men, whose actions contaminated the booty of Daisy-Annie. Their names were Luko Skywalker and Ko-Ray the Jedi. They promised Daisy-Annie a bigger and shinier booty if she used her powers as councillor to ensure they got the largest petrolatum harvesting fields of the kingdom’s petrolatum for their ventures.

Behold, she acquiesced to their request and maigheeeurd, did they inflate her booty. Not only did they fill her chest, they ensured she had the finest of castles and palaces.

However, the men were wreckless and spent like sailors. Alarmed, Daisy-Annie said to Luko Skywalker, “Spend not with such unchill. Why buyest thou a ship when thou canst hire it for only a short while?”

But Ko-Ray used his Jedi mind tricks on her. And she ceased in her admonitions. And yea, was her booty fattened even more such that her bootyliciousness breached the legal limit in Trumpstantinople.

“How much is this booty?” the people asked with great concern.

“It is a great and tremendous number.” said the Trumpetistani constables.

“How great and tremendous?” they pressed, “for we are wary of fake news from way down yonder.”

“Be assured the news is genuine and non-spicered. And ensure that ye are seated to hear the number, for it is several hundred millions of Trumpetistani shekels.”

“SEVERAL HUNDRED MILLION WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?”

The apostles heard of it. And there was not a gaddem speculum of chill in the entire kingdom!