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…