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.