The Chronicles of Chill: The Balavidan Epistle & the Siege of SurroundedBySenegalistan

Letter

The Trumpet finally blew from the Hill and a new world order of tremendousness began in the Kingdom of Trumpstantinople, which was witnessed in Judea, Samaria and yea, unto all the ends of the earth. And they many were the host that encamped around the ascension of the blowing of the Trumpet but yea were they not nearly as many as witnessed the two coronations of the two quadrannia of King Baraccus. Or so it was thought, for King The Trumpet was sorely vexed at insinuations of anything less than his coronation being the fairest, most tremendously viewed of them all. And yea, did he send his head scribe, FrankSpencer, to announce to the people that lo, it had been the best coronation since coronations began, period.

In the land of Gambrach, there was a signal from across the lands to the west that King Jamming of SurroundedBySenegalistan, after reigning for one score and two years and losing to Flavour’s TomatoJos, was refusing to vacate the throne. This was a big worry for the regional kings, and they quickly gathered in the palace of Gambrach to deliberate on what to do. They were all there – Queen Sirloin Steak of Ro Via, King Plagiariser of Chalehstan and King Big Mack Daddy of Wollofia. Yea, did they enter into conclave and emerged, resolved not to let SurroundedBySenegalistan descend into anarchy. And behold, they began to move their military formations towards King Jamming.

They also rode to the Castle of King Jamming and pleaded with him to heed the word of the people. But Jamming was adamant. “My voice is the voice of the people!” he proclaimed. And when the kings and queen left, they sent a further emissary with a message that their armies were approaching and would force him out if he did not yield. In response, he raised his foot, kicked the emissary into a deep well and yelled, “THISH ISH SHPART..oh, I mean… THISH ISH SHURROUNDEDBYSENEGALISTAN!!!”

With all his unmitigated bravado, it was a grand surprise that his troops offered no resistance as the coalition armies entered their land. They had seen the movie 300 and knew that no glory awaited them because in the regions below the great desert of Sah Har, no death for country is a good death, or indeed a useful one. And King Jamming departed and TomatoJos ascended the throne. Porokoto pon pon pon.

The exertion of all the horseback diplomacy and the surrounding tension proved too much for Gambrach. And so he proceeded on recess, writing to the Abushola and the senatii, that he would be away for 10 days. Some people who think they know everything quickly brought out their abacuses (or is it abaci?) and calculated that Gambrach was going away for more than 10 days, but they knew nothing. Gambrach also added that he would use the opportunity of his recess to see his meisters in Jandinia again, but did not elaborate.

The rumblings of unchill quickly began in the land, with intense speculation about the abrupt recess of Gambrach in a time of recession and wailing, and weather or not the Many Years with which he was afflicted had grown worse.

It was also in this time that the day of the prophecy of the return of the spirit of MoolahMagicMarvel was supposed to return to the land. But behold, the spirit had heard the cries of its adherents from far away in Putinia and returned to the people 2 days ahead of the day prophesied. And the worshippers ntoined to the unbelievers, telling them ‘we told thee! If only ye would have had faith. If only ye had believed, ye too would partake of these reloaded blessings the spirit is about to unload.”

And the spirit spake to its worshippers. “Guess who’s back in the moolah magic house, with some cash chips for ya moolah marvel mouths?” And the worshippers went into a frenzy. ” ‘Tis thee, oh great MoolahMagicMarvel, great benevolent ponzinian spirit. Tis thee!”

“That’s right! It is me! And I bring glad tidings of great joy. They who waited upon me shall renew their vim. But not immediately, however, as the number of waiters is really tremendous. So, in my beneficence and ultimate moolah wisdom, I shall reopen the doors to my temple in slow-motion. Ye may look at it and it may seem that nothing happeneth, but this is the marvel of slow motion. For ye shall only see it, if ye believe, when it is done!”

The worshippers were ecstatic. And they watched. And although nothing seemed to be happening, this was what the great spirit had said would happen. And they watched some more. And tis said, that many remain watching till this day, unbeknownst to them that the high priest of the MoolahMagicMarvel had fled with his family ‘to abroad’. For those that stayed woke, it was evident that the spirit had eaten up their offerings and that there would be no more blessings. For lo, the spirit had gone silent. And there was a little more rumbling of unchill.

Behold, news then reached the people that Gambrach had sent an epistle to the senatii in response to the report of senatii on the intervention council led by Balavida, and its encounter with the deadly grass corruptio korikonensis and kwarapta intrusivo. And Abushola read Gambrach’s letter to the men and women of senatii.

Dear Senateens,

Peace and greetings from London. Now knoweth I, verily, that Yellowman lyeth not in his riddim from the 1980s, because right now, “London Kwold, repeat again, repeat again, London Kwold. Nigeria nice, repeat again, repeat again, Nigeria nice.” But enough of the doxology.

I am not unaware that some of ye were of the assumption, when Abushola thy Warden stood up to read this scroll, that I was about to request that Lord Nono Gengen be confirmed by ye as Primus Magistratus in the land. Well, unfortunately for those who thought so, that is not the purpose of this letter. Nono Gengen go dey alright.

This letter is in response to your allegations about the squire to my council, Balavida. Thou wishest, nay, desirest, that I dismiss him from the council on the charge that he may have used too much of the funds for intervention in north easteros to cut weeds that obscured his path.

First of all, have ye not read the story of Sleeping Beauty? When a spell was cast around the castle to keep Prince Philip from reaching the tower and an invasive and resilient plant formation grew around the castle, which specie of weed do you think he had to cut through to complete his rescue mission? Excatly. Kwarapta Intrusivo. And he needed a magic sword! I did not even give Balavida a magic sword! This is my first technicality.

Secondly, ye know that I am a renowned rearer of cattle. In fact, my two main hobbies in life are hating corruption and breeding cows. And I am renowned for both. When you breed cows, sometimes you have a favourite. People sometimes call your favourite cows ‘sacred cows’ but this is an alternative fact. Balavida  is akin to such a favourite for me, and special cows eat special grass. If a favourite cow wants to eat 2 strains of special grass, what is the problem? This is my second technicality.

Thirdly, ye know that I abhor corruption. I detest it so much, that I can smell it from kilometres away. Behold, the stench is more putrid than bullshit. And ye know that I know bullshit because I breed bulls. Now, if being such a great smeller of corruption from afar, I smelled it not on Balavida from anear, how can I believe your feeble petition, signed by so few senateens? This is my third technicality.

Here ye then what I say. Technicality wise, Balavida stays, for now.

And the spirit of wawu descended into the midst of the people. They could not believe that these were the words of Gambrach. And once again, all over the land, except in SurroundedBySenegalistan, there was no gaddem chill to be found.

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The Chronicles of Chill: Days of Banishments & Fake Tidings

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The pestilence of unchill continued to hang over the kingdom of Gambrach but reprieve came in the month of the feast of nativitus. Yea, was it turnt, as the people rose in one accord to eat, drink and be merry, lest they perished.

In that time, there was another wedding of celebritine savour, as the Princess of Ko Tow, daughter of King Tambourine was joined in wedlock to the son of Ser Galman of the province of Snap, Crackle and Pop. And as the hoi aristoi revelled in the celebritine savour of the moment, behold men of the Hezbollah descended upon them and smashed their gourds of expensive mead. Ol’boy!!!!

The Hezbollah were the petit gendarmes of Ko Tow and were pitifully unaware that the were only free to hezboll occasions and venues lacking in celebritine; that their mandate could by no means extend into the courts of King Tambourine. Behold, before the children could recite their favourite nursery rhyme “rice smuggled hot, rice smuggled cold, rice smuggled in a truck, 9 days old“, King Tambourine banished them into inexistence.

In the south of the land, news reached the people that, further to an edict from Obeezee4Sheezee, prefect of commercial reporting in the kingdom, GoDaddy, the supreme domain registrar at roccing dot come, relinquished his seat as supereme overall in the land to another.

Roccing dot come was one of the most famous domains of religion in the land and GoDaddy  one of the most renowned supreme overall domain registrars. Another famous registrar, though far less so, was Osinoshin the Comer Comelion, Hand to Gambrach.

And behold, the people of the domain were aghast at the loss of GoDaddy. Other domainers from other domains were also fearful, that the edict would also lead to the loss of their supreme overall registrars, such as PapaDontPreach, Kum’Bayah, Soul Glo, and so on. “Whither the dominion in the land, and the domains, if these great registrars are to be banished?” they cried.

But the domainers need not have feared. For the next morning, before the children could sing their second favourite nursery rhyme, “Ol’ Go slow yes they rob I, strand I still I standing still”, Gambrach arose from deep slumber and banished Obeezee4Sheezee from the prefecture. (Ol’GoSlow was a melody made famous by the great bard Marley Majek. Song otherwise called Redemption Camp).

Many in the land said that Osinoshin had whispered into the non-ManyYears ear of Gambrach, but the Chronicler be not a bearer of fake tidings that have not been brought by the revelation of the Tword.

For fake news was a pestilence, even far away across the sea in Barackistan, where the sun was setting on the second and final quadrannium of the king. A new King, King the Trumpet, was about to blow himself from the Hill, and rechristen the Kingdom Trumpstantinople.

And behold, sad tidings of great scorn were brought to them and all mankind, that Vladz the Bahdt Guyz had hired the greatest mystic marabouts from the Far East to conjure up demons to impugn the integrity of electoralis in that land. Twas also said that the demon Nepotisto was going to follow the Trumpet into the Palace. But he called it all fake tidings – “Behold, my sons shall administer my trade empire, and the said affairs will not intersect with the affairs of the kingdom, For I have commanded them never to discuss my empire with me. And I am nothing if not a man of honour and the truth always. Yea, does it make me and my hands tremendous.”

The King of the kingdom of Zico, neighbour to Trumpstantinople, heard the proclamation and said “What? Oh no, thou didsnt!”

*We now take a break from the regular chronicles to bring you a message from our Papyrus sponsor…hehehe…just joke of Chronicler and unique way to segue back to the land of Gambrach…*

Because, in the land of Gambrach, news reached the people that the coin of Daisy Annie was about to be confiscated by the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission. Yea, was Daisy Annie still not seen in the land, but it was said that the Everlies had found One gross, Half a Score and Three million Trumpetinion coins in her bank. Some rejoiced, some called it fake tidings, for it was a tremendous amount of money.

And back in Trumpetino, the King of Zico could no longer maintain his chill. “Listen here, the Trumpet” he began,”thou callest thyself a man of truth, yet thou lyest to the Trumpetinians. Trumpy why you lyin’? Oh my gawd! Tell me you lyin’? Thou lyest that thou wouldst build a wall and we the Zicans shall pay. Once have I said it, twice has my voice gone out. Now let it be known, that there is no gaddem way I shall be paying for thy focken wall.”

Whoooooooosh! That is a sound ye knowest. Tis a sound that tells you that throughout the land, throughout the gaddem stratos, there was not an iota of chill anywhere.