Chronicles of Chill: The Prophecy of the Zanga

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Following the day of Shiwajunfest, news reached the Chronicler that the Tword had found another soul worthy of the divine revelations of unchill. But it seemed this secret chronicler did not in fact know that he had been imbued of the Tword.

The secret chronicler received Tword of Asos, daughter of Gambrach, to whom her husband Noodlinho had now done what Dinobetes Mellitus had threatened to do to Remy Ma, wife of Shiwajun – behold, he had known her and she was with child. And thus was it chronicled by the secret chronicler –

“Only Noodlinho and his wife, Asos, know what it is about their union that drives them to perpetuate one of the most enviable and durable signs of love. They got married last year in a savor of celebritine ceremony. And to prove their commitment, abiding love for each other, and to increase the population of the Kingdom, Asos, we gathered is expecting Noodlinho’s baby. Casting a probing look at the ever reticent Asos when sighted at an event recently, it was glaring to all wandering eyes that she has been noticeably put on a 9-month maternal course by ‘Linho through a legitimate conjugal collaboration. Looking so robust and bigger than her pre-marital figure, the widely acknowledged self-disciplined lady was cynosure of all eyes as onlookers turned their attention on her and began to make some biological permutations.” [He has such a way with words, this secret chronicler.]

Thus was it said of the secret chronicler, “Blessed is he that chronicles without knowing that he chronicles, for out of his quill poureth pure bants.”

In the Crescent Lakes kingdom of King Yade-Ben, after much houdini and alapeanutbuttersandwiches, the time came for the Coinage of Telepathic Apparitional Manifestations (also known as the Coinage of Stalgmighty Stalctites) to be passed into law. The CrescentLakian senatii had read the increadible coinage of fantasy, knowing full well that to achieve this coinage of supremest deficit, Yade-Ben would have to be a miracle-working king of kings. Wherefore they renamed him Yezus.

Behold, as the hour of promulgation drew nigh, the king closed his eyes and raised his hand into the air. The CrescentLakian royal quill was handed to him, and a strong wind began to blow in the auditorium. “Brethren CrescentLakians, this arrogant coinage of hope is an ambiguous expression of your mood. It is historic and euphoric. It is a counterintuitive deficit to definitely fix it. Behold, I append my glorious seal of razzmatazz and bombastic opprobrium.”

A lightning bolt fell from the heavens and then there was calm. “It is done!” proclaimed the Chief Griot. “All hail the king!”

Yezus wept.

Lady Kem-Shun, Gambrach’s Councillor for the Coin, heard of the proceedings in Crescent Lakes and thought to examine the Kingdom’s vaults, to see how much remained. She drew her abacus and after a few beads, she was convinced something was amiss. “Whaaagwan inna dis place, mate? Hath Ser Magoo, head of the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission not brought forth all that he recovereth? Dis a wasteman ting!” But Magoo unlooked.

In Bedrock, Gambrach summoned his Spinning Quills, for he had an announcement of the utmost importance to make to them. “Scribes, I have decided that I will put myself forward in contention at electoralis federalis.”

“I KNEW IT!!!” whooped FemCallamitus, forgetting decorum. The other quills rolled their eyes.

“Sire,” said Gar Bar, with some caution, “but what about the 3 horsemen of the Kakocalypse – Shegolas, Gi Dah and Dan Jumanji have all turned against thee…”

“Aye. But there remaineth one horseman yet – Dool Shalom. He may yet be swayed. And if he be swayed, he may yet sway the other 3. And even if he not be swayed, I am Gambrach. I am King. I am 10 million underaged ballots in the gaddem bank, gaddemmit!”

“Hail our beloved King!” proclaimed Gyretta and Bee Ree.

“Good, good.” said Gambrach. “Now tell them to ready the winged Chariot.”

“Art thou going into the land to tell the people? Into South Easteros to win over the forlorn of the Ipobusinian mischief makers?” asked FemCallamitus.

“Geez, no way man! That’s what I have you guys for. Quillers should get to quilling. I’m off to Jandinia, biyotches!”

“But Majesty,” said Bee Ree, the Chorgasm meeting isn’t for another 10 days…”

Gambrach smiled and said, “Estacode, baby! And if I decide to make an early detour to see the meisters, obu gini any bagger’s consain? Peace out.”

And as Gambrach left in his winged chariot, a delirious spirit descended upon FemCallamitus and he entered into Social Mediania and began to prophesy –

“Behold the ancient words, ever true, written by the Prophet Terrgee, for me and you, deep down in the lungu of the Zanga. Take heed, any that would run against Gambrach in electoralis, can they run faster than the wind? Can they flow faster than a river? Can they rise higher than a mountain? Nay! Hear the words of the Prophet Terrgee yet again, ‘thou canst only run, run, run, run, past Gambrach G, if thou runnest mad!”

And the people heard it. And there was no gaddem chill in the kingdom.

 

 

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Chronicles of Chill: The 3 Kings of Disorient

 

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The day of Dan Jumanji was a day of sorrow and regret for the courtiers of Gambrach. “Mene mene tekel upharsin,” wept FemCallamitus.

“Oh, hush!” said Gyretta, as she sipped from her stein of sweet pal mectar. “Tis a time to do more than weeping and speaking in strange tongues,” she said with a strong look of disapproval.

“But I promised the wailer horde fresh Gambrachian wine in the fullness of time, gaddemit! Electoralis is less than 12 moons away. Behold, the fullness of time becometh the shortage and emptiness of time.”

“Our king is in need of redemption,” said Bee Ree.

“Blasphemy!” shouted FemCallamitus, angry. “Who wouldst dare to redeem our redeemer? Our most fragrant blessed Gambrach? Our most – “

“SHUT UP!!!” chorused Gar Bar, Bee Ree, Gyretta and Bashally. “The grown-ups are speaking.”

“Where shall we find this redemption?” Gar Bar asked Bee Ree.

“Have ye heard of the Three Kings of Disorient? No? Well, I shall send them a raven. Gar Bar, you just speak to Mefilius and make sure provision is made to give them a fitting reception and sending off *wink* for their visit.”

“Consider it done, m’lady,” replied Gar Bar.

The following day, Gambrach sat in the throne room, all depressed. Bee Ree was announced and entered into his presence. As ever, Moborius was seated in a corner, waiting with brush and canvas to record the moments for posterity. Gambrach was confused at her buoyant disposition, but he said nothing.

“Your majesty, I have a surprise for you!!! I present to you the 3 Kings of Disorient!”

The lights dimmed in the throne room, which pissed Moborious off, for he could not see what to paint. Suddenly a spotlight shone on the door and there was smoke and soft music playing. A deep voice proclaimed loudly, “Behold the 3 Kings of Disorient who have voyaged to see King Gambrach from the occident, for they have seen his star in the sky! Their names are Momma Loo Thurr, Cousin Loo Thurr and Nephew Loo Thurr. And the 3 kings began to sing.

We three kings of disorient are

Bearing gifts we traverse afar

Airports, traffic, roads and potholes

Following Gambrach’s star

 

O – o star of progress, star of praise

Star to end corruption’s days

Boko defeating

Gaffe repeating

Strict and Spartan in his ways

 

When their song ended, Momma Loo Thur embraced Gambrach, and handed him an enribboned scroll. Shittinski was alarmed at such close contact between unmarried adults and hurriedly left the throne room. Cousin Loo Thur just stood there like a statue and King Roe Chazz looked at her lustfully.

Nephew Loo Thurr then spoke. “We of the famous global Loo Thurr dynasty have viewed Gambrach from afar. Yea, his star doth shine brightly. The most famous of the Loo Thurrs, that is Remy, had a dream that everyone would be equal. And look how equality sweepeth across thy Kingdom. For this reason, for the very first time in Freekah, in the global world, we the Loo Thurrs hereby present him the Concocted Black Month of Black Excellence of Black Historical and Exceptional African Black Supersonic Leadership Award of Blackness 2018. Look, like it was said by the ancient Russian philosopher Igwenitzof Tupacizinsky, Gambrach deserves some accolades!”

“Accolades!” echoed Lady Bee Ree.

“Gambrach has paid his dues!” continued Nephew. “Paid in full!” responded Bee Ree.

Wherefore Moborious painted the moment in full and the Spinning Quills of Gambrach – Lar Yi, Bee Ree, Gar Bar, FemCallamitus, Bashally and Gyretta – louded it unto the ends of the Kingdom. And there was no gaddem chill in the land, for the people were confused. “And canst it be that Gambrach should gain an interest in Remy Loo Thurr’s fame?” they asked one another.

But then news came unto the Social Medianites from the chambers of the children of Remy Loo Thurr and his wife Scottetta that the 3 Kings of Disorient were not sent of them to confer any accolades on Gambrach. And lo, it was another own goal, wherefore Gambrach was known for a moment as Gambrach Escobar. Yea, had the real Loo Thurr’s VAR’d Gambrach and his quills, and even their most ardent fans were handfallen.

“What do we do now, great and wise king?” a forlorn Lar Yi enquired. “Shall I wax another improbable fable of mendacity?”

“No,” said Gambrach as he read a scroll that the raven master had just handed to him. The raven had come from Gideria. A smile played across Gambrach’s face.

“Ha ha!” he chuckled. “Tis the day of Shiwajunfest! Maigheeeurd, I’m going to get turnt again! Tell King Ambsalom of Gideria to block every gaddem road and close every gaddem port for I come thither! That will teach those Social Medianites of Gideria!”

Ambsalom hurriedly shut Gideria down. And in all the land, a single gaddem modicum of chill, nary a gaddem speculum even, could not be found.

There was no chill in the heart of the chronicler either, for the Tword was infused with the spirit of the Killmonger and demanded of the chronicler, “IS THIS YOUR CHRONICLE?????

 

Chronicles of Chill: The Day of Dan-Jumanji

Thus it was in the tenth month of the third year of the first quadrannium of the reign of Gambrach, that the spirit of the Tword descended upon Shay Who, a senateen of the the kingdom of Dunamis, that is the kingdom of King El-Farquaad. And as the Tword came upon Shay Who, he began to speak, “Behold, o ye people of the Kingdom, ye blessed people which suffereth under the pestilences of thy kings and princes, who eat the fat of the land and leave thee with the pickings. Lo, I am one of them. And I declare to ye this day, that we are paid 14 million shekels from the King’s coin every gaddem month!” And the spirit departed from him, and yea knew he not what he hath done.

The people heard it and were shook to their bones. 14 million shekels??? Wherefore the other senateens gathered themselves as unto a choir, and sang unto senateen Shay Who, the words of the bard Shamsudeen Smeeth, “You say we’re crazy, but you do not know what you have done, and if you’re feeling guilty, just know that you’re the only one!”

And as they sang the ditty, feeling pretty and witty, there was a man of Oyossinia named Veeque Thaw, who the song greatly troubled. He was troubled for he had just been dismissed from the employ of Shittinski, the shit councillor of Gambrach for matters of communications. Shittinski was also of Oyossinia and had made no secret of his desire to succeed King Jimobite once his reign was ended. It was a fate dreaded by all good people of Oyossinia.

Veeque had departed the service of Shittinski but had 14 million shekels outstanding in his pay. He then determined in his heart to write to Shittinksi. But it could not be an ordinary letter. It had to be a scrollage of pomp and circumstance and it had to be shewn to all in Social Mediana. He picked up his quill and parchment and wrote –

“Bitch better have my money! 14 million shekels! BOMBASTIC ENGLISH! BOMBASTIC GRAMMAR! FULLY BOMBASTIC GRAMMAR!!! Pay me what you owe me!!! BOMBASTIC ELEMENT! AMERICAN STINKING SHIT! Don’t act like you forgot! Balling buying cars and houses and chicks that aint your spouses! BOMBASTIC, BOMBASTIC, BOMBASTIIIIIIC!!!!!”

Yea, when Shittinski read the letter, he was offended right from his beard into his gloved hand. “This peasant thinketh he can take on a pharisee in the exchange of letters? He knoweth not what he hath started. IT. IS. ON!”

Wherefore Shittinski, who some of the people had fondly started referring to as Bullshittu, gathered his elite scribes and charged them to respond in kind to Veeque Thaw. Wherefore they replied, also into all of Social Mediana –

“SUPER DUPER UNCOUNTABLE BLACK PANTHER BOMBASTIC GRAMMAR!!! Satanic luciferous phantasmagorimapa!!! DOUBLE BOMBASTIC TO THE POWER OF INFINITY AVENGERS WAR!!! Hanky-Panky bombastic arrow back to sender!!! BOMBASTIC, BOMBASTICAL GRAMMAR!!!”

Yea, the people were amazed at the pedantry of the Bullshittinski clan.

In Gideria, the voice of the people had risen against King Ambsalom, the favoured of Shiwajun. Ambsalom had raised homage taxes in the state and his defenders did their feeble best to convince Giderians it was not to build the electoralis war chest of Shiwajun. And his counsellors came into his palace to let him know that the grumblings of the people were reaching a crescendo and something needed to be done.

“Are they not entertained by the antics of Dinobetes Mellitus,” asked Ambsalom. “Does his war of jestery with King Bellows in Kogitaria, not impalliate their angst?”

“No, O king of the hidden coinage,” they responded. “This is not Kogitaria. It takes more than Kingly and senteenly burlesque to assuage Giderian anger.”

“But I am on a most holy mission to clean up Gideria. Some have rightly called it a Holy Shiwajunihad. My vision is to clean up the many messes we have in this Kingdom.”

“That is a most excellent idea, Your Highness. We shall embark on a project to actualise your vision of scraping the filth off Gideria. Behold, the project shall be called visionscrapings. And the people will be most pleased.”

“Go ye then, and do as ye sayest.”

Thus, all over Gideria, the visionscrapings descended to scrape away the filth. Yea, they scraped and scraped and scraped but Gideria seemed more and more unscrapable. And the voice of Giderians grew louder in unchill.

And as the unchill brewed, news came from Trumpstantinople of the tribe of the Wentbridge Scatterlyticans, who had broken into the Book of Faces. The Scatterlyticans were almost as invasive as the Yetis of Gawd, and had been offered millions of Theresan shekels to break also into the secret library of Gambrach, to reveal the musings of Gambrach to the camp of Gejoshaphat during electoralis. But it was a gaddem waste of money, for Gejoshaphat was defeated, and also because the secret library of Gambrach was bare, for nothing was there.

Lo, as the invasiveness of the Yetis of Gawd persisted, the voice was heard all over Digital Perusia and Social Mediana of Dan Jumanji. Like Gambrach, Shegolas and Gi Dah, he was also a man of Gunn. Yea, like the Farhni Kaynic Illuminatics, he was the unseen hand behind the many quadrannia of the men of the Gunn when they took the throne. All the Kings of Gunn rolled the dice with Dan Jumanji.

And like Shay Who, the Tword also descended upon Dan Jumanji, making him break rank and speak unnatural words unto the people. “Brethren, the time cometh when ye all must pick up thy weapons to defend thyselves against the hordes of the Yetis of Gawd. For the King’s Armies are with them, not with thee!”

Wherefore, in unchill, a Twillistian, AndyRoid broke into ancient tongues, saying, “Entropy has eroded the equilibrium within the cassava solution via an excessive infusion of dihydrogen oxide.” Yea, water passeth garri.

And there was no gaddem chill in the entire gaddam land!

Chronicles of Chill: The Perilous Perils of Gambrach

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The Kingdom of Twillistia suffereth unchill and the chronicler recordeth it by force. Tributaries of unrest flowed unrelenting into the river of unchill, from which the people bathed and cooked and swum. It was an extreme age and King Gambrach suffered contentions from many sides.

Gambrach had received yet another letter beseeching him to abandon electoralis, on this occasion from Gi Dah, another of the Kings of quadrannia past. But Gambrach was unyielding, so the Tword sent 2 plagues into the land. Well, twas only one plague, but doubly manifested – for a snake and a monkey made off with bags of the Kingdom’s coin.

Yea, when Gambrach heard it, he was troubled. “Behold, I had believed in my heart that the Furious Five were doers of good. Wilt Master Mantis and Master Crane and the Dragon Warrior Kung-Fu Panda also invade our land to steal our coin? Which one of ye can summon Master Oogway from the spirit realm to stop this?”

And Gar Bar responded, “there is a young man in the land, named Par Dee, son of Knoo Gar – he is a 7th dan of the 29th chamber of the trojan horse in the shaolin temple. Yea, he possesseth a blackened belt in Abandex style, having trained under Master Oogway himself. Shall I send for him?” But Par Dee was away from the Kingdom, on a clandestine odyssey of leonine conquests, with his consigliere, Ed Gar.

The Yetis of Gawd continue to ravage the land, sad for the loss of the traditional routes of ancient ancestral migrations. And the forces of Gambrach comprehendeth them not. Wherefore Gambrach charged the head of his constabulary, Heebra Driss saying, “Go thou into Ben Way and depart not therefrom until thou subduest the Yetis.” But Heebra Driss hath a turnup he couldest not miss for any gaddem thing in the world. And yea, he went to get turnt.

And the people were amazed that the constabulary head could disobey the King without consequence but FemCallamitus set the record straight, saying “Oh ye ignorant heifers! Know ye not that the Head Constable is accountable to the Mystical Confederation of Constables and not to the King?” Yea, even Gambrach was confused by the utterance of FemCallamitus and sent for Heebra Driss to ask where exactly the mystical confederation was located.

Alas, tragedy struck as Heebra Driss proceeded to Bedrock. Ndour, the son of Gambrach had struck a horse racing wager with his companion, to find out whose fine Arabian steed was the swiftest of foot. Behold, they raced through the streets of Boo Jar, at breakneck pace but the horses suddenly came upon a stretch of road untended to by the Road Repairers Counselate, under the stewardship of Flasholas, Gambrach’s tripartite Counsellor. And thus it was that the horses reared and threw their riders and all feared for Ndour and his unnamed friend.

Heebra Driss witnessed it all and quickly summoned Solomon Grundy, Gambrach’s Counsellor for Sanguinity. Grundy gathered all the leading physicians in the land and constituted them into the National Council for the Urgent Recovery of Ndour (NACOFURN) and chaired it. Lo, NACOFURN conjured all the ancient healing magic of the land to guide Ndour back to health. It was not easy and they had to transplant some of Gambrach’s fiddledeoxyribonucleicacid into Ndour’s marrow to rescue him. Yea, was he rescued and Ndour, like his father, became as fit as a fiddle. The Tword be praised.

And with the recovery of Ndour, Gambrach’s legend waxed stronger in North Easteros. “He is so spartan”, the people said, “that his own son, the prince and sole heir, was not thrown from a chariot of gold. Nay! He rode on a horse like the rest of us.” And the Arabian breeders herd of it and yea, they were tickled.

Lo, Gambrach would have been depressed by the near miss but behold 2 of his homies were giving out the hands of their daughters in marriage and the mother of all litness was about to descend into the city of Boo Jar.

First was the wedding of the Skinnee Ma, daughter of Lee Ko, the richest man in all of Freekah. Yea, was it turnt, with even the Gates of Billy (not a scandal) in attendance. From there, twas the wedding of Venus de Milola, daughter of Osinoshin to the son of the legendary courtesan to all the queens in Boo Jar since the dawn of time, Lady Ga Sha. Like the Chronicler, thou also wonderest the groom of Skinnee Ma, right? Right? RIGHT???

And in the middle of getting turnt, Gar Bar came to fetch Gambrach for he was due to depart to Kagamestan to sign a treaty to marketise the kingdoms of Freekah. But Gambrach was all partied out. And Kagamestan was not Jandinia. “I have no desire to go to Kagamestan”, Gambrach said to Gar Bar. “As the crippled giant of Freekah, can we not tell them it will take us six months to limp to Kagamestan?”

“Sire, they know of our fleet of flying chariots”, replied Gar Bar. “They wilt not believe us.”

“What is the treaty for, anyway?” asked Gambrach. “Our Kings of previous quadrannia do not keep their loot in Kagamestan – why do we need to sign a treaty with them?”

“Sire, we are signing the treaty so that the people of Freekah can trade freely with one another.”

“Freely? What is that? You mean they won’t pay”

“Yes sire. But then neither will we.”

“Wait first. No further excise?”

“No sire.”

“My ride or die homeboy Brah Meed won’t be able to charge them excise for bringing their goods? The coinage he counts for me daily will diminish?”

“Possibly, sire.”

“WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME? WTF IS THIS??? Please, please, please, this is not the way of the Wakandans. I need to calm my navvs and think a bit about this.”

And the people heard it and were troubled. It was whispered that the King had stumbled onto some ancient scrolls telling the prophecy of a land to come. Wakandanese had filtered even into House Apicura, with electoralis at hand.

Lo, there was also a gushing of wahala morghulis in House Apicuria, with the housemen jostling for primacy in the coming shenanigans of electoralis. Gambrach knew he was piss poor at political gymnastics and sent for Shiwajun again.

“Yo, gee. What’s up? Where’s the wahala morghulis I wished thee to give Shegolas? And before thou answerest seest thou not our own wahala morghulis? Wilst thou not purge Apicuria of it? And again what is this shit of bull freedom of trade in Kagamestan? Canst thou not get me out of it?”

Yea, did Shiwajun pause and then, when he spoke, launched he into the most epic of rants. “O Gambrach, why lamentest thou? Have ye not heard of what is called – o how canst I translate it from my mother tongue – buharitage? Thou contendeth electoralis as an Annipalopulan and once did thou lose, yea even unto the second time. This is thy buharitage. Thou contendest as a Corpuconian and again thy buharitage preventeth ascension not once but twice. Behold, thou carriest on thy back 4 electorales of buharitage and twas not until my arrival in thy camp that thou couldest ascend. Thou ascendest finish, thou come forgeteth me and my guys. Thy buharitage cometh back to haunt thee now and now thou rememberest Shiwajun. To remove the burden of your buharitage. Issokay, I wilt do thy bidding. Just make sure that fool Yay Goon, stays out of my way.”

And the people heard of it and there was no gaddem chill in the entire kingdom!

Chronicles of Chill: The Second Epistle of Shegolas of Owurutas

Brethren, it was a time of cosmic unchills, back to back to back. The pestilences of petrolatic famine (which flew by day) and the murderous Yetis of Gawd (which flew by night) did not abate. Still, Gambrach said nothing. Lo, the people groaned in their homes, in the fields and in the temples and in the synagogues.

And when the keepers of the temples and synagogues heard the groaning, they tried to unlook and unhear it as they had for several quadrannia. But this was no ordinary groaning – it was groaning that had doh re me fa soh la ti do embedded in it. Behold, the spirit of pulpito incandescenta descended on the keepers of the temples and synagogues, causing them to cry in unison, “Procure ye thy cards of enfrachisement, for electoralis is at hand! Gambrach the Vanished hath become Gambrach the Deaf and Gambrach the Blind!” Yea, were they joined by the High Priest of the Illuminati, Farhni Kay.

The Deliverance Squad Squadron, in the tension of their unlooking of the Yetis of Gawd, heard the temple keepers and found their proclamation repugnant to the gambrachene spirit of which the squadron was possessed. And so they delivered Farhni Kay and some temple keepers to the squadron dungeons for a time. And Farhni Kay regaled them with the many legends of the unseen hand of the illuminati. The squadron could only take it for so long and they quickly released the men that they had delivered.

Gar Bar and FemCallamitus came unto Gambrach to tell him that the unchill in the land was overflowing its banks and he needed to do something. Gambrach agreed. Wherefore he summoned the leaders of the Apicureans to a banquet at Bedrock. Yea, it was tagged of hash as #BedBanq. Behold, Gambrach said unto them, “I welcome ye all to this banquet feast which we have tagged of hash ‘BedBanq’. I summoned ye hither to give thee a charge, nay, a great commission. After ye have eaten of the fat of my kitchen, go ye then unto the ends of the Kingdom to tell the people that I have heard their gaddem whining. Wheeeeen-wheeeen-wheeeen, like babies. I have heard and tis enough! For I am never ever in a hurry to accomplish aught. Why? Just look at the piss poor cabinet it took me 6 moons to select! Had I been in a hurry, would they not have been even more dismal? So, sing after me… Pacito, pacito…

Behold, the people heard it but the unchill was already of cosmic proportions. It couldn’t get any worse.

Then, it was told unto the Twilistians by the Kalahari Newsbearers that Bar Kar, Gambrach’s chief lawman (who had by now convinced everyone that the N was silent), had approached the magistrates for an injunctio dawonduro against the senatii. “My Lords,” he prayed the magistrates, “give me a dawonduro against senatii, for they probe my facilitation of the return of Oje Marina.”

“Can senatii not investigate malfeasance by the King’s men?” asked the magistrates.

“Not when it will implicate them, gaddemmit!!!” replied Bar Kar.

Behold, before the magistrates could give their verdict, Bar Kar was summoned back to Bedrock with urgency, by Kyocera. Lady Yeesha, the King’s wife, was sending word into Twilistia and Social Mediana. Lo, the word she was sending were the re-sent words of senateen Bruce Sensey Lee and his brethren, condemning Gambrach’s seemingly tacit endorsement of the Yetis of Gawd.

The people could not believe their eyes and ears! Could the King’s wife be amplifying words raised against her King? But before the people could say ‘my yeti allure’, her daughter, Asos, also sent a parable into Social Mediana, of an impending day of doom!

“What the gaddem hell goeth on in Gambrach’s other room????” the people demanded, confused by it all.

But Gambrach’s unlooking game was strong. And it was in that day that he announced that King Roe Chazz of Imolek, who had made Imolek famous for his massive erections, wouldst be his electoralis coordinator in the Easterosi kingdoms. Roe Chazz licked his lips and grabbed his crotch at the news. His finest work was still ahead of him.

And as the people muttered and the unchill rumbled on, suddenly a loud trumpet sound rent the air. Many thought it was the moment they would be caught up in the sky – they were ready to go, to be honest, for the unchill in the kingdom was indeed severe – but it was not yet that time. No. The trumpets were blown from the royal courts of King Shegolas of Owurutas, who preceded Mah Roo and Gejoshaphat on the throne. Like Gambrach, Shegolas had also reigned previously in quadrannia long ago, as a Man of Gunn (the chronology of the kings of the kingdom is recorded here). Unlike Gambrach who could not produce his scroll de minimis however, Shegolas was devoted to learning and had just been awarded a Pimping Happening Daddy scroll. Behold, it was turnt.

Yea, the trumpet blew for King Shegolas was about to make an important declaration. Nay, it was an epistle, enscrolled in a scroll. Lo, it was unscrolled and read to the people. And maaaaaiiiiiigheeeeeeeurdddddd, there was no gaddem chill in the stratos. It read –

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggghhhhhh! Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggh! Thou art my guy, but duuuuude! I knew thou wast fully capable of falling my hand but gadddemmm!!! Thou knowest nought about the econominix but didst thou listen to counsel from errconominists? Uhn uhnnn!! Thou knowest nought of diplomacy but didst thou employ skilled envoys? Thou knowest nothing of scribery yet thou employest frigging Gar Bar and FemCallamitus??? Dude! Come on!!!!

“Thou unlookest the works of the Yetis of Gawd, looking for lands to reward them with. Thou sayest thou fighteth corruption, yet your guy eateth Kwarapta Intrusivo and walketh free.

“And I defended thee at electoralis when thy enemies claimed that the spirit of Nepotismo dwelt strongly within thee. Yet thou puttest all the swords and arrows and spears of the kingdom under the charge of thy kinsmen. In the words of the ancient prophet Lateefus Kayodensis, “WHAT KIND OF JOB YOU DOING???”

“My guy, just quit. Move on. Go home and milk some cows, mehn. If thou lovest the kingdom, thou wilt not contend electoralis. We cannot afford to have a King that liveth in the palace of Madam Two Swords anymore. Selah.”

Of course, there was no gaddem chill in the land.

Now, Gambrach’s unlooking game was the best in the world but even he could not unlook the epistle of Shegolas. Immediately, he summoned Shiwajun and Candy B, SouthWesterosi gentry and Apicureans of stature.

“Shiwajun, I need you to unleash the Wahala Morghulis on Shegolas. Right away. This one, I am in a hurry to do. Wahala Morghulis now!”

“Patience, sire,” replied Shiwajun. “Patience.”

Chronicles of Chill: The Yetis of Gawd

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And thus it was in the land that the Tides of Yule ebbed and a glorious new year was born. The famine petrolatum persisted as, between the Three Wise Men of Petrolatum – Gambrach who was his own counsellor for petrolatum, E-Dawg who was the sub-counsellor & Baruch who led the King’s Drillmen, as well as the aforetold puppyfication of E-Dawg – none could tell why it remained scarce. Gambrach could not tell anything, to be fair to him, as he spoke to the people with ever reducing frequency.

Yea, it was in the fervency of that moment of unchill that Lady Zek Way came unto the Twilistians and declared, “Behold, as the season of electoralis descendeth upon us like a smog of depravity, let the houses of Padipalia and Apicuria take heed that today, I brandish a red plank of eviction. For their Kings and Counsellors have failed us and the time for a new reign must be at hand. Lo, the dawn of the age of the Third Force!”

“But thou wert counsellor to a Padipalian king,” the Bullshit MaChinery arm of the Lovengers responded. “Do you simply rage because Gambrach giveth thee not face?”

Wherefore she chuckled and said unto them in intermittent caplocks,”I have NEITHER need for face FROM Gambrach, nor the APPROVAL of thE LEAGUE of SCOFfers with which HE surrounds HIMSELF. But yea, SHALL I RAISE a league of red PLANKERS who will stand FOR a thiRD foRCE of CREDIBILITY!”

“But Gambrach is a good king!” the Lovengers protested, “Where is thy counterfactual evidence???”

But before Lady Zek Way could respond, the air was filled with cries of despair from the Palace of King of Autumn of Ben-Way. The Benwegians were a peaceful people, blessed by the gods with the most fertile earth in the 37 kingdoms. But from the lands further north came a league of fearsome pastoral herdsmen who led their flocks wherever they gaddem felt like. For them, nothing was more sacred than the hunger of their flock.  Wherever the owners of farmlands resisted them, these herdsman came back with such fire and fury the likes of which the farmers had never seen. Like Gambrach and El-Farquaad, these herdsmen were Fulannisters, and ye know the saying of El-Farquaad that “Fulannisters always collect their debts.” Lo, these herdsmen were of a wider union gang, who called themselves the Yetis of Gawd.

The Fulannister Pastoralists struck the Benwegians most mightily, killing several and then 3 score and a baker’s dozen.

King Autumn wept.

All the way to Bedrock, King Autumn wept, for like the people of the 37 kingdoms, he needed to hear Gambrach’s words of consolation. The people also thought there would be another sighting of the Waltzing Python of the King’s Armies for Car Knoo and his Ipobusinians had done far less before the armies swooped in and baptised him in the ocean of disappearance. But Gambrach said naught and there was great unchill in the land.

“Wawu!!!!” cried the people, “Gambrach saith nothing. Behold, he condemneth not the Yetis of Gawd. Is it because, like him, they are also Fulannisters?”

Wherefore FemCallamitus, in eager subservience, rushed into Twilistia protesting, “No, no, no. How canst ye say these despicable things against Gambrach the most noble, of the softest side? Know ye not that the Yetis slew 45,678,900 and three quarters under the reign of Gejoshaphat? Only 45,678, 552 have been slain under Gambrach, shewing that the Yetis are far less deadly under the reign of a fellow Fulannister.”

And the rumble of unchill grew, for the people could not fathom how nothing was unfathomable for FemCallamitus. But there was more unchill to come, for the Head Yeti had sent word into Twilistia. “Tis true that we slew the Benwegians. They were slain because after we passed through their kingdom, we saw that our livestock had reduced in number. It was a debt that was owed to us and ye knowest the ancient saying – a Fulannister always collects his debts.”

And a mist of fiery and furious unchill descended upon the land. There was no gaddem chill in the land.

There was also sadness in a corner of Twilistia, for Van Chee, a friend and brother to many and a dedicated student of the scrolls of the chronicles had crossed the Great Divide. He was greatly loved.

 

Chronicles of Chill: Thriller – Day of the Undead

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Brethren and Sisthren, the Chronicler had retreated from Twilistia to commune with the Tword and cross over into the new year in deep meditation. Lo, in the quiet place, the Chronicler enquired of the Tword, “When will the land of Gambrach and Gejoshaphat see chill? When will the Chronicles end? How much gaddem unchill can a kingdom withstand?”

Yea, from the void, came the tword of the Tword. Behold, they were ancient words once spoken by the glorious bard of global renown, Mikhail Jaksonovic and yet again they rang true –

Darkness falleth across the land

Electoralis is close at hand

Politicals crawl in search of posts

To terrorise the common good

For whosoever shall be found

Without the funds for getting down

Shall face the hounds of Outcast Hell

And rot inside a poverty cell.

“What meanest thou by these words?” the Chronicler enquired, but Tword would not say. All that was revealed was the word to “Go ye back into Twillistia, for something is afoot.”

“Right now?” asked the Chronicler.

“Sha-Mawnne!” the Tword replied.

Thus did the Chronicler peer into Twilistia and Social Mediana, and maigheeeeeeurd, what a sight!

*****

On the eve of the annum nueva, Mooz Ta Fari the new chief scribe to Gambrach, who had succeeded Balavida, approached the King in his chambers to bring a matter of grave importance to the King’s attention. “Sire, before the hour striketh ushering in the annum nueva, there remaineth the matter of His Majesty’s appointments to the Chocolate Tea Pot Councils. It has been nearly 3 years of our Chocolate Tea Pot Councils having no handles.”

“What? No chocolate tea pot handles all this time???” asked the King in disbelief, looking towards Kyocera, the Head of the King’s Staff at Bedrock. “Didn’t Balavida manage to sort it out before he encountered the kwarapta intrusivo weeds?”

“Majesty, indeed he did, but thou wast in glorious convalescence at the time and he, we, knew not how to make the appointments in thine absence.”

The King asked to see the list of nominees but was thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw. “Are these the best the kings have to offer the people? You know the people remain much pissed off by the persistence of the famine petrolatum. These names must not be the flame to their fuel.”

“Great king, these are the Apicurean gentry – lords and their serfs who stood with us in the battles of the past. Majesty, if I may, these councils are called chocolate tea pot councils for a reason…” replied Kyocera.

“Well, this is not good enough for me. I want ye to comb the Kingdom thoroughly for the best of the best of the Apicurean gentry. And I mean, everywhere! High and low, far and wide. The people deserve nothing but the best – chocolate tea pot or not. Leave no stone unturned! Heck, leave no tombstone unturned even! ”

The King’s men all looked at each other in confusion and the Gambrach saw their hesitation. “You know what? Fetch me FemCallami…”

“My King! My great, glorious, fragrant King! I am here! I am never far from thee! Behold, I was standing at the door waiting for your summons. Leave it all to me, thy most loyal FemCallamitus. I will find the finest, most eminently qualified names in the land for thee! As thou hast said O King, my motto shall be ‘No stone unturned, No tombstone unturned!'”

*******

The foulest stench is in the air

The funk of 57 years

And goony ghouls from every tomb

Are closing in to seal the doom

And though the teapot’s not alive

Its body starts to shiver

For no mere mortal can resist

The evil of … the thriller…

  • Mikhail Jaksonovic

******

FemCallamitus thought long and hard about the task with which he had been entrusted. If he was going to leave no tombstone unturned in his quest, he knew he would need the help of one man. Trouble was, the man was a Padipalian (it was complicated, as he had also been an Apicurian) and now a sworn enemy of Gambrach – could he be convinced to come to Gambrach’s aid?

No stone unturned, no tombstone unturned, muttered FemCallamitus under his breath, as he waited for the servants to summon their lord.

“What seekest thou here, thou common, poorly educated scribe?” the lord of the house demanded of FemCallamitus.

Espirit de corps,” said FemCallamitus, “thou hast also been a King’s Quill, oh great Farhni Kay – thou knowest the burden we bear and more importantly, for my mission, thou knowest things mere men do not.”

“Well, indeed, I do,” said Farhni Kay, his ego having been somewhat stroked, “what demandest thou of me? For thou knowest I canst never side again with thy King.”

“Side with me, then, Comrade. I ask for the help for myself, for I need to visit the Great Beyond.”

“If thou wanted to die, even a corporal in the King’s Army could have put a sword to your heart…”

Visit, dear friend, not a permanent journey, for tis not yet my time. I need to visit and return.”

“Now, look, dear boy, I am many things, but soothsayer is not one of them, so I’m not quite sure what…”

“…take me to the Illuminati!” FemCallamitus finally spat out. “Thou art the most versed in the ways of the Illuminati. Thou seest their unseen hand where no other man in the Kingdom dost. Thine eyes are not mere ojunus lassan – lo, thou seest with illuminatic eye beyond ephemerality. Only the Illuminati can facilitate the interviews I need to conduct to complete my quest. Help me, Farhni Kay, help me!”

Farhni Kay was quiet, for what seemed like an eternity. “Very well, then. But I must warn thee – there are rules and consequences…”

“I will do what must be done! For this is my mantra – no stone unturned, no tombstone unturned!”

*****

It was the day of the presentation of the members and handles of the chocolate tea pot councils. They would all gather in the square, to be shown to the people as appointed of the King.

There was yet unchill from the petrolatum affair, but the people were curious to see what appointments that took half a quadrannium to make looked like.

One by one, the appointed members and handles came forward to receive their scrolls of appointment from Gar Bar, who presided over the ceremony. Handing the scrolls to Gar Bar, smiling and looking very pleased with himself was FemCallamitus. The ceremony was proceeding nicely.

But lo, just as Gar Bar was about to compliment FemCallamitus on his good work, the lights suddenly dimmed and a dark, putrid stench filled all of Twilistia and in a flash, before the people stood 10…well…the Chronicler must confess that he knoweth what to call the beings that stood there. They were not of the living but they were certainly not quite of the dead. “Give us our scrolls,” they demanded.

“These are the ten special, most eminently qualified appointees of which I spake to thee,” announced FemCallamitus proudly. “I vetted and fetched them myself. They will be the best chocolate tea pot handles ever!”

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAT?” screamed Gar Bar.

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAAAAAT?” screamed the Social Medianites and the People of Twilistia.

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?” screamed Kyocera from his perch in Castle Bedrock.

“FFS!” screamed Gambrach. “WTF??? GTFOH!!!”

Needless to say, brethren, this time with even Bedrock inclusive, there was not a speck, nary an atom, not even a molecule of gaddem chill in the entire gaddem kingdom!

Chronicles of Chill: Descent into Pyongification

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Far, far, far to the East of the Kingdom was the land of Pyongistan. It was a land under the benevolent dynastic rulership of Emperor Lil Kimz, who ascended the most heavenly throne upon the death of his father the Notoriously B.I.G. Kimz.

In the annals of all the kings and emperors of all the four corners of the world, none were funnier than the Kimz Dynasty. Everything they did was so gaddem funny, unless they explicitly meant it not to be, in which case the consequence of laughter was a quick and painful death. The way they talked, the way they talked, the way the ate and did all the things they did  filled their famished, impoverished and dehumanised citizens with laughter and gratitude, for they knew they were fortunate to have such emperors as the Kimzes.

And lo, news of this great and glorious land came to the Spinning Quills of Gambrach and behold were they amazed. The people of Pyongistan were far more impoverished and famished than the people of Gambrach and yet they were filled with so much slavish gratitude. Only 28 days looking for petrolatum and the people complained as though there had been a hollow cost of nuclear. Yea, after buying the petrolatum, it was the benevolence of King Gambrach permitted them to be turnt at musical performances by all the bards in the land – Dei Vid, Dei Kun, See Me and the likes.

Behold, the scribes simply knew in their hearts that Gambrach was filled with much more humour than the Kimzes, for when Gambrach was struck with the mysterious affliction that vanished him, all was lost save his sense of humour. It was such a spectacular residue that the Jandinian meisters had taken sample specimens to cultivate, in the hope that one day it might be the answer to global suffering.

“Fellow Spinners,” said Gar Bar, “ye knowest that Gambrach our King is the funniest of all, no matter what the Pyongistani mirrors say.”

“Oh yes!” agreed FemCallamitus, very quickly. “In fact, anytime I am with him, yea  even within 5 meters of the locus of his presence, I get heady with humourphilia and my body and soul are ravaged with laughter.”

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Bee Ree, “thou comest again with the unending contest between thy body and soul over which of them loveth Gambrach more. Perhaps ye shouldst allow Gar Bar finish his thought.”

“Well, my dear Lady Bee Ree, I believe the animus of FemCallamitus is what we need to infect the people with. Behold, they need to see King Gambrach not just as we do, but indeed, as FemCallamitus does.”

FemCallamitus did a cartwheel in excitement, salivating in pavlovian delight at the mention of the King’s name.

Ignoring him, Lady Bee Ree enquired of Gar Bar, “what proposeth thou?”

“We shall put on a dramatization of theatre, to show the entire world, even unto the Pyongistani fields, that humoured leaves or lands or air, none with Gambrach can compare.”

“Fascinating!” exclaimed FemCallamitus. “Might I propose the title for this dramatization of theatre? Can we call it the Epiphany of the Ephemerally Woeful Wailers of the Great Glorious Majestic Humour of the Unashen UnLeared King Gambrach, His Most Divine Grace?”

“Oh god!” exclaimed Lady Bee Ree, with an especially scornful side eye. “I’m sure Gar Bar had something less pathetic in mind. More importantly, which actors shall we engage for the dramatization of theatre?”

“We shall engage no actors, for who knoweth the King’s real version as well as we do? And as for the title of the dramatization of theatre, there it is – we shall call it ‘Real Gambrach of Rockywood’ that the people may know that it will be lit.”

And thus it was, in the heat of the famine petrolatum 2.0, right bang in the season of the Tide of Yule, that news came to the people of the theatrical Real Gambrach of Rockywood was to be performed across the land, starring the Spinning Quills.

Lo, the people came to watch, even though they had scant petrolatum for their lamps to light the paths. They had to see what the gaddem fuss was about and why the dramatization could not wait until after the famine.

The dramatization began with Bee Ree alone on stage, the spotlight on her, for the King’s Quills had no lack of petrolatum for their own lamps. “Oh that ye wouldst know the Real Gambrach of Rockywood. He is so funny that…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She could not finish her lines for the laughter consumed her.

Gar Bar thought he could rescue the occasion, saying “Once, Moborius came into the Council Room to see Gambrach and… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” He also could not continue, laughing uncontrollably.

FemCallamitus saw that his moment had come. He thought he could steal their thunder while they both rolled about on the stage in humourised delirium. “Tis true, the Real Gambrach of Rockywood is amazingly…” he broke off, sensing the fit about to descend upon him, but he quickly regained control and continued. “…amazingly funny. The time my quill had a yellow feather instead of the usual black one, he…. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

Lo, there they were, the scribes of Gambrach, guffawing, hee-hawing and slapping each others’ backs.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

 

The people saw it, yet believed it not. “IS THIS THE DRAMATISATION YE CONDEMNDED US TO SACRIFICE OUR PRECIOUS PETROLATUM TO WATCH????

Brethren, the scribes of Gambrach – the Spinning Quills – were pyongified. And there was no gaddem chill in the land.

 

 

 

 

Chronicles of Chill: Famine Petrolatum 2.0 – Manz Not Bovvered

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It was the Tide of Yule and all over the kingdom, not a gaddem thing moved. Not a chariot nor a coach. Twas not because there were glad tidings of great joyous chill, nay. For as it was in the prequel, twas now, and the people feared it was ever to be, world without end. Only those brave enough to face the wizards, demons and orcs of the Night Market could obtain it. There was no petrolatum in the land and there was no chill to be found.

For on the eve of the Tide of Yule, it was the festival of the birth of King Gambrach. Officially he had attained the age of three and three quarter scores, but yea did the people question his scroll of nativato as they did his scroll de minimis. And yea, did all the kings of the 37 kingdoms gather in Bedrock for the feast, using the last of the petrolatum in the kingdom to propel their winged chariots to Boo Jar.

Behold, when they reached Bedrock, they gathered in the Room of Fournicaketion, where 4 confectionary altars had been built to Mediocrates, the patron saint of the reign of Gambrach.

“Welcome O kings of orient and elsewhere in the kingdom, bearing gifts and having traversed from afar, ye kings who commission fields and fountains for thy people. Welcome to this great feast of my day of birth.

“Behold, I am filled with joy, for only 5 years ago, none of ye would have gathered to celebrate with me. Now I am blessed with thy smiles of insincerity and sycophancy, o fortunate me. Let us thank Mediocrates for such a blessed day. Lift up thy hands towards the monuments of Fournicaketion, that our patron saint may bless us and make us more like him in the years ahead.”

And the kings all stretched out their hands to the monuments of Fournicaketion for the blessings of Mediocrates and they quivered with a mundane frenzy as the lights dimmed and the spirit of Mediocrates enveloped them. “Hail Mediocrates!” they cried, “and our gratitude to him for his hand upon our king, Gambrach!”

Moborious was in their midst to record the scene for posterity and yea, as his engraving came to the people, their unchill was further unchilled. For here were their kings cheesing in the midst of the hardship of the proletariat. Yea, even the Lovengers were incensed, with the former object of their love and devotion speaking a nary a word of comfort to the people.

Lo, the days rolled into weeks and the weeks into a fortnight and the people languished at the petrolatum dispensaries, waiting desperately to power their chariots and their domestic machines of electricitato, for as usual, the King’s electricitato supply was inexistent. Yea, did the people sweat profusely in their chariots and in their homes, for manz was hot.

“What causeth the famine petrolatum this time?” the people asked in frustration. “Is Gambrach no longer the Head Councillor for Petrolatum?” But Gambrach unlooked and their cries reached him not, for he was afflicted again by the Many Years Disease.

Wherefore E-Dawg descended from his garden of chill to let the people know the reason. “Yo peeps, what’s good, homies? What it is, right, is the Night King be tripping, yo! Winter be coming like super quick and our OG’s at the Wall be burning the petrolatum to keep the Night King and his ice dragon at bay. In other words gees, winter be coming!”

And the people were confused, for manz was so gaddem hot!

Lo, in this summer of discontent rose a new bard in the land. His name was K-Dawg and twas whispered that he might even be the son of E-Dawg. But the Tword does not deal in rumours and conspiracies. And K-Dawg, lined up the chariots of Dinobetes Mellitus, singing songs of the extravagance, debauchery and flossery of Dinobetes. Yea, did Dinobetes Mellitus himself, a member of the senatii, join in the performance, dancing the dance of Ajekunsis Iyatosis. “Betes! Betes! No faeces! No faeces! Wenches and mead flow like I’m a different species” went the witless chant, trapping all who yielded to its profane seduction.

The people could not believe it and cried out louder, yet Gambrach unlooked and unheard it all.

The councillors of Gambrach all retreated from Social Mediana, forced into reclusion by the rising waves of unchill. Unable to withstand it any longer, they entered into his chamber to enquire of him why he spake not unto the people. Behold, they were confused for what they saw. For in the chamber with Gambrach were Jandinian wordsmith Da Pah – who had only recently risen to global fame – and Lady Kem Shun translating the music into speech which Gambrach would find intelligible.

“O great and noble Gambrach, twice ruler of the 37 Kingdoms, twice the Head Councillor for Petrolatum, we come bringing the cries of the people to thee, for they are stranded and dripping with perspiration. Wilt thou, O King, not send a word to give them succour in these times?”

And Gambrach looked upon them, smiling. “Yo, have I learnt a new melody today. Behold I shall sing it for ye. Yo, they told me fix petrolatum but I told them manz not bovvad. Yo, they said take off your ear plugs but I told them manz not bovvad. Tis, how do the youth say, wicked, is it not?”

And lo, in that chamber in Bedrock and unto the ends of the kingdom, there was no gaddem chill.

Chronicles of Chill: The Pursuit of Happyness

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Brethren, it was a monsoon of unchills in the kingdom and the floods and landslides were unrelenting.

In the constabulary of the Kingdom, many quadrannia ago, an elite squad was formed to combat the league of marauders ravaging the kingdom. The squad was known as the High Intensity Violence squad (or HIV, for short) and HIV was a fiery force of ferocious and phantasmagorical fiction. For lo, the people suffered at the hands of the HIV squad much more than the bandits did. The HIVs waylaid travellers, extorted hackney carriage drivers and were a pestilence that destroyed both by day and night. The cup of the people’s unchill overflowed and thus the hash was tagged copiously in Social Mediana to stop HIV.

The hash was tagged unto the ends of Digital Perusia, until it was picked up by the Jazzy Rah newsbringers. High Constable Heebra Driss tried to dismiss it as the orchestration of bandits but the National Association of Bandits and Marauders (NabAm) issued a proclamation that the HIVs were their friends. Thus it was that Heebra Driss announced a reorganisation of HIV. But the people would not have it. “Stop HIV today!” they protested and tagged, in their unchill.

In Kogitamia, land of Dinobetes Mellitus, under the kingship of Yaya Bellows, the spirit of compensatio non completus was upon the land and the wages of the people in the king’s service unpaid for many months. The people insisted the demon Missingstopheles had wreaked this havoc for 10 months but King Bellows and his attack dogs told them to STFU and stop being ungrateful, for it was but a mere 8 months, insufficient even for a woman to reach birth pains.

And yea, was there severe lack amongst the Kogitarians as the season of Yule came upon the kingdom, for the people were short of coin. King Bellows knew he had to do something to lift their spirits. “Come,” he said to his councillors, “we shall build a new palace! Be sure that no expense is spared.”

“Oh wise king! We kuku don’t have any expense to spare but we rejoice that his majesty wishes to build a palace to uplift the mood of his people.”

Behold, the palace was built and it was yuuuuuuuuge. Yea, did King Bellows proclaim it far and wide that the palace was to be declared open. And so his councillors approached him asking, “Sire, shall we now arrange how the citizens shall take it in turns to visit the Palace of Lifting Moods and indulge in its mood-lifting hospitality?”

Lo, did King Bellows emit a wicked and evil laugh, “Muahahahahaha!!! Ye fools! How thinkest ye that I would build this palace for anyone’s dwelling but myself!? No, no, no, no, no! Let the people look upon its sujimotic luxury so that happiness might kinetically crystallise in their hearts!”

The news came to the people and they were sorely unchilled.

“The king is the demon Missingstopheles! He is the spirit of compensatio non completus! For he took from us to make himself rich!”

“Nonsense!” replied the attack dogs of King Bellows. “The king was a man of unquantifiable wealth before electoralis. He needest not thy pittance.”

“For reals?” asked the people. “What was his occupation? Behold the scroll of the Wikipedians on him – it starts and ends with electoralis! There is a great unchill in our hearts!!!!”

King Roe Chazz beheld the great storms from his Kingdom faraway in Imolek and resolved yet again that his people needed to be happy. He too was a devotee of the spirit of compensatio non completus, forcing the retired Kingsmen and Kingswomen to forfeit portions of their coin of retirement. He thought deeply to himself, “I have given my people two beautiful erections of shining massive rigidity but lo, they are not titillated. Perhaps I have not yet gone far enough to bring them to a place of pleasure. Let me look into the recesses of my mind for something else. Aha! I shall create a council for Merriment and Coitus Fulfilment and dedicate the resources of the kingdom to their unbridled pleasure. Hmmm. But this is a huge task and of utmost importance. What greater gift can a king give to his people? I cannot leave this mission to just anyone. I can only appoint someone I trust implicitly. I shall appoint my sister, Lady L.O.L. for yea, have I prophesied that my people shall laugh out loud.

And thus it was that the new councillorship under Lady L.O.L. was announced. Brethren, Roe Chazz never hesperred the unchill that followed. “Thou appointest thy own sister? For coitus fulfilment? Thou are not only a despot, thou art a nepot!” the people protested.

King Roe Chazz was confused and asked his council, “Why do the Imolekites want to be unfortunate and become Imodiums? The spirit of Evrar is upon me and I want to give them my energie! Why don’t they want to tekkit?”

“Sire, perhaps it is the invasion of his majesty into their coitus that they protest. Perhaps, Oh King, Coitus Fulfilment should remain a private matter?”

King Roe Chazz knew at that moment that he had gawked, but what is a king if he cannot be imperial in his infallibility? “Coitus? Coitus?? Which one of you idiots misread my sublime thoughts? How could it be that I said Coitus Fulfilment? Geez! I said Core Torso. Core Torso. Yoga sturves. After ye makest merry, ye shall then do yoga to strengthen thy cores and torsos. Go and tell the people that they misheard.”

But it was too gaddem late.

And then, just when it seemed there could possibly not be any further unchill, Oje Marina swung wide his gates again and sent a message into Social Mediana for King Gambrach.

Oh great and just king. I wouldst have brought this message to thee myself but the haters around his majesty would then hand me over to the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission; and we cannot have that. O King, I am a great recoverer and a saver. Yea, have I saved the Kingdom more times than Ser De Gea against the arsenal of Wen Gar. Lo, the spirit of the Flow Rider is even upon me and I have and shall and wish to blow his whistle baby whistle baby. Be ye not perplexed if this is confusing, for that was my aim.

“And now in thy moment of dazzlement, I beseech thee. It is said of me that I stole a quadrillion shekels but yea did I, as a great recoverer, recover a gazillion in the quadrannium of King Gejoshaphat. And if thou wouldest let me, I would recover even more. And thou knowest thou needest all the coin possible for the coming season of electoralis. If thou wouldst only pay me half of a tithe of this gazillion and remove the paltry quadrillion which sullies my name, then in the words of the great prophet Christus Martina, I will try to fix you.”

Yea, did the people hear it. And lo, was there no gaddem chill in the land.