The Chronicles of Chill: Words of Dederisation

It was a time of unease and trepidation in the land. Far and wide, within the Kingdom, as well as the twin cities of Twilistia and Social Mediana, there was grumbling. First of all, because there came upon the land a plague of intense heat. And in that day did men fry eggs on the foreheads of one another, and yea were no cooking fuels required, for the ground was heated far and above the polity.


The pestilence of heat was exacerbated by the absence of electrolis to bring illumination and climatised chill into the homes of the people and thus, were they compelled to resort to producing their own electrolis. Alas, they required petrolatum for this, in addition to their chariots, but there was famine petrolatum yet upon the land. It was a gaddem potpourri of infragrant discombobulation.


And yet did King Gambrach, unlook it all and uphold his silence. And the Lovengers exclaimed, “Behold the unlooking of Gambrach! How magnificent it is! Are ye not entranced by his reticence?” No, they did not really say that. This is a joke of the Chronicler. The Lovengers were also ensconced in the heat and in need of a soothing word from the Throne. But as all men didst watch the Throne, came there nothing from the Throne.


In that day, however, the Councillors of Gambrach summoned the people to the Agora in Gideria for a village square confab. There was Lar-Yi, the propagandist councillor; E-Dawg, the petrolatum councillor; and super-councillor king Fasholam, of illumination, habitation and construction. They came to hear the people, they said, and to let them know why the triumvirate of pestilences of heat, illumination and petrolatum were ravaging the land.


“Yo, my nizzles” said E-Dawg, “I know y’all be trippin’. But y’all can’t be judging my bizzle by the famine petrolatum – I’m putting myself on the line for shizzle.”


Fasholam also pleaded for the people’s understanding. “Oh that thou couldst see my children and my household. They are consumed by heat rashes and are robbed nightly of their sleep. For the plagues affect me too.”


But the people were unmoved. So E-Dawg dried again. “See, my bruthas and sistas, peep this. I be sending boat-loads of petrizzle to Gideria on the daily. But you know, there be hoodrats in the delivery crew, diverting my shit to the Chaldeans and the Roonians. And that ain’t right!”


“I beseech ye, again, that ye bear with us”, added Fasholam, “sound in the assurance that Gambrach neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, for your pain is your King’s pain. Once senatii approves the coinage, through the love of Gambrach, all will be well.”


“That’s what’s up!” said E-Dawg. “So, real quick, Imma leave you with a pledge I came up with, cos we in this shit together, n’amsayn? It kinda goes a lil sumn like this –

I am a citizen of the Kingdom

                  There’s got to be a reason I was born here

                  I got a stake in the kingdom

                  I refuse to succumb to abuse or not to diffuse tensions in the land.

                  So help me Swag!


Nobody said the pledge.


For there were more important matters on their minds, and the pledge did nothing to lift the plagues.


And the people of the land sent counsel to Gambrach, that perhaps the solution to his travails lay in, or at least started with devaluation. But Gambrach was not impressed. “I am not convinced that our salvation lieth in devaluation. Why wouldst we lose any value? Value is good. Value is great. Many years ago, I saw a King devalue to no avail.”


Then counsel went forth yet again. Perhaps the pestilences could be appeased by deregulation. Yet again was Gambrach unconvinced. “Another de- word? No chance. Regulation is good. Regulation is great. Many years ago, I was an active man of Gunn and we had great regulation.”


Such was the opposition of Gambrach to any words that started with de- that he even denied permission for the cleaners of the palace to deodorise a meeting room after the departure of an unscented delegation of visitors. “No! Leave the odour. Odour is good. Odour is great. Many years ago, when I was in the war, we had to endure odours. Odours build character.”


But there was a fourth pestilence, of a deadly swarm of herdsmen, pillaging lands not theirs and scorching the earth whenever they met resistance. And the people sent counsel to Gambrach yet again, “Oh Gambrach, King of the 37 kingdoms, wilst thou not demilitarise these herdsmen?”


And then they recognised their folly.



The Chronicles of Chill: Epistles from the East


In the thick of the age of Valar Petrolis, right in the heat of the famine petrolatum, Gambrach sojourned to the wise men of the east. These wise men had build a wall that could be seen from the heavens and they were the earthly kings of the art of imitation.

Gambrach sought their counsel and intervention, for the cry of the people was great and their suffering intense. Lo, was it said in one of the many chariot-snakes seeking petrolatum, by a chariotman overwhelmed by circumstances, “Oh, that this kingdom would be disappeared off the face of this planet; and that all of us wouldst die! For our tribulations are many.”

The abridged respite promised by E-Dawg, man of Swag, didst come to pass, but yea was the respite also abridged, for within a week, the chariot-snakes reappeared. And Gambrach didst unlook and behold, E-Dawg sayeth nothing, for the rebuke of Shiwajun remaineth upon his mind. And news from the east reached the people of the 37 Kingdoms, that King Gambrach had arrived safely with the wise men.

The travails of Abushola continued and the Gates of Darth Soukey had not yet closed. Abushola laboured in vain to have his trial abolished, but was told by each higher court, “You must set forth for Conductivitis at dawn.” And so the sword of Conductivitis continued to dangle above his head, and was doing like this and like that, in the full glare of the Kingdom.

And Abushola beseeched the people, “Let not Shiwajun achieve against me in Conductivitis what he failed to at the senatii nomination.” But the people were unmoved, for another breeze blew in from across the seas, bearing tidings of Abushola’s wealth abroad, and that of his wife. It was the whisper of the Parchments of Panamania, and their hush was a raging and loud indictment as far as the people were concerned.

“Know ye not” Abuhsola began in his defence, “that my wife cometh from a well-heeled family and our houses were united in aristocratic positioning? Her daddy rich and her momma good looking!”

And Abushola assembled the largest number of Pharisees ever recorded in the land to defend him at Conductivitis. Behold, did they number 90 – one, it was said, for every property Abushola feared he would have to forfeit to the Kingdom.

The trial didst begin in earnest, eventually, and Abushola who had hitherto run from proverbial pillar to post [to, pastor and prophet, possibly] not to commence his trial declared to the people, “Yea, am I glad and is this day a blessed day, for I shall soon be presented with the opportunity to exonerate myself.”

His scribe, BanksAMakeEmDance, added his voice to his master’s, saying to the people, “What ye know not is that this is a battle for the independence of senatii, that Abushola fights. It is in thine interest for him to win it.” But the people mostly yinmued.

The men and women of senatii however, in defence of their warden and fearful of the sword of Conductivitis, quickly sought to change the law of conductivitis. And the chillometer in the land shot upward, for the people were perplexed. “Abushola!!!!” they cried, “presidest thou over the changing of a law under which thou hast been accused? Is this the change of Gambrach?”

But there came a voice from senatii, a senata from the kingdom of Ekitilopia, who proclaimed “I lend my support to the change of the conductivitis law, for when thy homie’s house burneth, it is wise to make haste to help him, lest the inferno spreadeth to thine own dwelling. You feel me?” And the chillometer continued to show intense readings.

And then word came from the sojourn of Gambrach, that the wise men of the east had heard his supplication, and would directly make their coin available to the 37 kingdoms for trade. And all men, Lovenger and Wailer alike, applauded Gambrach, for they could see how it couldst make the land greener.

But then, further word came that the wise men of the east had also decided to lend their hands to helping the Kingdom build new roads for new improved chariots, new docks for new flying ships and new brains for all those who wouldst think more deeply. But a rumbling arose in Onyenkuzistan, for none of this newness seemed to be on its way in that direction. And when Lay-Si, Gambrach’s ambassador to the Social Medianites and Digital Perusites, responded with “But seest thou not that the coin swap shall mostly be benefited from by thee?” the chillometer finally broke and there was nary a modicum, iota or otherwise any form of chill in the land.

This was bad for the Kingdom, for there was also unchill over the invasion of communities over their pastures green, by cattlemen. The cattlemen maketh their cattle to lie down in green pastures and leadeth them beside the still waters. However, neither the pastures nor the still waters belongeth to the cattlemen, and the owners resisted. The cattlemen left and returned with such a mighty violence that the communities were plunged into the valley of the shadow of death. And Gambrach said nothing and did nothing, though it happened many times. And the people of social mediana lost chill and were aghast.

In Aboo-Jar, Zazu, who was Gambrach’s Domestic Matters Councillor, declared that the unchill of the Social Medianites and the Digital Perusites made the conflict appear much worse than it was in reality. But the people were unhappy, especially as news reached them of an impending law under which land anywhere could be taken and handed over to the cattlemen… So unchill ravaged the land.

And the people cried unto Gambrach, “Behold, great Gambrach, it is neither secret nor lie, that this Kingdom be pretty messed up. But thy frequent sojourns and more frequent silences at our troubles are as though thou wouldst in reality have nothing to do with us. Voyage no more. Stay with us, that we shall know that we art thy people and you art our King!”

The Council of Gambrach heard the cry of the people, particular Fasholam, one-time king of Gideria, who had been appointed Gambrach’s councillor for illumination, construction and habitation. And Fasholam wrote an epistle to the people. “I have voyaged on occasion with Gambrach,” he said “and can hand on chest say that the story of his voyages have been veni, vidi, returnus!”

“Have ye forgotten,” he continued, “how our kingdom was in a state of Pariah Carey, with everyone looking forward to one sweet day when all would be well again? Well, now, Gambrach sitteth with the Rulers of the earth, and standeth and speaketh in a way that giveth me pride. For behold, Gambrach stood in the presence of the 7 Rulers and they were pleased with him. See ye not how Gambrach stabiliseth the price of your petrolatum!?!?”

And the people were confused.

And behold, was there one more epistle from the east, for Yode son of Falasham, king of Ekitilopia had also voyaged there, but not in the company of Gambrach. Lo, did he put pen to paper, crying to the wise men of the east, “Trust ye not Gambrach, and give him no coin. His coinage is tuberculosed and yet unpassed and heck, I don dey give am trouble since, so if una help me pour sand inside that garri, e go too pure!”

And behold, was there not a gaddem iota of chill in the land.


The Chronicles of Chill: Famine Petrolatum



The book of the chronicler had been shut and sealed, for unchill had departed the land with the ascension of Gambrach of Gunn to the throne of the kingdom. The chronicler had received tword to seal the book and the twirit put him in a deep, deep slumber. And the people heard not from the chronicler.


In the 10th month of the reign of Gambrach, the chronicler was awoken with a loud shout. “Sleepest thou yet in the midst of unchill? Knowest thou not where thy quill liest? Arise! Write! For change has unchanged and chill has unchilled!”


And bleary-eyed, the chronicler peered out of his window and beheld that there was no gaddem chill in the land. “Wither the chill?” he asked the twirit. “Go ye into the land”, came the reply, “and enquire of the people of Twilistia why they wail.”


Lo, did the chronicler venture out of his house to hail a chariot to take him into the land, but there was none. He reached into his pouch for his chariot-hailing contraption and yea, though Uberchariot had activated chariot surge pricing, was there no chariot to be seen to convey the chronicler into Social Mediana and Twilistia. So the chronicler walked.


And, my gheurd, did he behold in the dire heat of the glistening sun, lines upon lines of chariots lined up, as if in a country-wide contest to be awarded the Guinessarus record for longest chariot-snake in the kingdom. The chariot-snakes stretched several horse-lengths, farther than the eye could see, with chariot-riders dripping in the sweat of hot discontent.


“Why linest thou up in the heat?” asked the chronicler. “Art thou a Johnny come lately? Knowest thou not that a famine of chariot petrolatum is upon the land, and chariot wheels be not greased to move?” one replied.


“Well, petrolatum or not, these chariot snakes thou seest, are but a herald of the glorious age of Gambrach. These are sufferings which me must endure to rid ourselves of the rotten years of Gejoshaphat.” said another.


“What causeth the petrolatum famine?” asked the chronicler.


“Twas the 16 years of waste!!!” came the chorus.


But then came a quieter voice from the throng, saying “That may well be, but have ye not heard with thine ears and seen with thine eyes the groaning that surpasseth petrolatum? I am a merchant but the Treasury will no longer convert my coin into Guilder, so that I mayest purchase cedars from Lebanon.”


“This is true,” another said, to growing agreement, “it seemeth the King delightest in sojourns away from the Kingdom, as a man with a troubled home seeketh to stay at Quilox, delaying his homeward journey, for as long as is possible.”


“Oh yes! This be not why we rejected another quadrannium for Gejoshaphat, who we know is not coming back. Gambrach tarrieth in honouring his word.”


And the rumbling resounded all over the kingdom. And yea, did Gambrach unlook. And this troubled the Twilistines even more, for Gambrach had appointed himself Head Councillor of Petrolatum.

Fortunately for the people, there was a Junior Councillor, a man steeped in the history and affairs of petrolatum, full of fervor and the spirit of Swag was upon him. His name was E-Dawg. Each morning, before commencing his affairs for the day, E-Dawg wouldst ask his mirror, “Mirror Mirror on the wall who is the swaggiest councillor of all?” And the mirror would reply “Thou wearest shades and fur coat blue, therefore none has the swag like you.” And E-Dawg presided de facto over the Kingdom’s petrolatum.


And in the midst of the petrolatum famine, the people cried out unto E-Dawg, for Gambrach had again sojourned, “Wither our petrolatum? We perish for lack of grease!” And E-Dawg, full of the spirit of swag replied, “Chill yo! I ain’t no sorcerer. I can’t just snap my fingers and wish that shit into your chariots. Bitches, please! Y’all be patient, let be me on my grind, and we’ll see about your petrolatum in about 2 months.”


E-Dawg’s words were quickly followed by a Tsunami of unchill.

Some of the Legion of Lovengers in the Kingdom stood with E-Dawg saying, “Better a bitter truth than a sugarcoated lie.” But the groaning of unchill was so loud that it reached Shiwajun.


There had been whispers that Shiwajun did not wield his powers any longer, but he spake and the Kingdom stood still. “E-Dawg speaketh not the language of Apicuria,” he said, “and knowest not that it is sacrilege to make utterance of such dismissal to the people. He must make abnegation of his pronouncement.”


And lo, did E-Dawg abridge the 2 months to 10 days. And yea, did the people in their unchill hail Shiwajun.


And the people were reminded of Shiwajun’s prophecy of Wahala Magnum Morghulis, for try as he might, Abushola was unable to shake the sword of the Tribunal Conductivitis hanging over his head…