Chronicles of Chill: The Legend of MaCashma Gandy

Macashma

Thus it was that the sun rose and then it set on the second and final quadrennium of Yode, son of Falasham in the kingdom of Ekitilopia. And then it rose again on the second quadrennium of Jefka, who interrupted Yode’s reign and whose reign in turn Yode interrupted, leading the people to call Ekitilopia a kingdom of hokey pokey.

Yode had sought to bid farewell to the Ekitilopians in grand style, declaring a banquet for the nobles of the kingdom. Behold, they unlooked it completely, for it was written – ‘only a ride-or-die feasteth at a king’s last supper’; and twas well-known that any who feasted with a king for whom the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission lay in wait, would be swept away in the flood of their scandalous incompetence. So Yode feasted alone.

And yea, as the sun set on his reign, Yode felt himself grow weaker as the invincibility cloak of immunity departed from him. Yode was a Dr but it felt strange (bad dumm tss! Behold a joke of the Chronicler!). No longer wielding the Immunity Stone and knowing a showdown with the Everly Failings was nigh, Yode knew he had to be possessed of the Banter Stone.

Wherefore he journeyed into the Vale of the Unnabrawss in the region of Haute Iwaykar and had the finest threadsmen stitch a mystic incantation onto his vest. Putting on the vestment, Yode rode for 2 nights and 2 days to Boo Jar, finally arriving at the Magoorhic gates of the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission. He stripped himself of his kingly armour and brandished the vestment, which had the ancient words emblazoned across it – “THE EVERLIES AINT SHIT!”

The Banter Stone was very powerful. They had got him, but yea had he also got them.

In Oyossopotamia, Shittinski was in a sulphuric panic. His dream of succeeding Jimobite the Constituted was evaporating before his eyes, as if Thanos himself had snapped his fingers at it. The prefects of House Apicuria had ruled that Shittinski could not contend at electoralis for, like Lady Kemshun, he was also devoid of the Certificato de Nyansch.

“Prefects, Apicureans, the reason I am devoid of the certificato is because I embarked on a quest greater even than the Nyansch! Where others went unto the Nyansch, I went into the Bombastic Oyossopotamic Octagonal Body of State, serving as a councilman. Twas a greater service even than the Nyansch! It should count for me, not against me!” Shittinski protested.

“But thou art versed in the law, art thou not? Tis the law that every man or woman emerging from the citadels must first serve the fatherland in Nyansch. And thou has not. Ergo…”

“Don’t tell me ergo!!!” shouted Shittinski, waving his gloved hand frantically. “Ergo what???” Wherefore Shittinski sued House Apicuria for disqualifying him and the Nyasnch Commission for not conscripting him by force when he ignored the summons.

Yea, was it lit across the land. But the litness was about to become fire. For in the ancient city of Canodonia, ruled King Gandy the White. He was known as Gandy the White for he was always dressed in a hat and flowing white robes. Many wondered what was underneath the robes and twas whispered that he had more than 2 arms and had to conceal them, lest he be thought a fantastic beast.

Lo, the legend of his extra arms was strongly believed by the Canodonians, apparently, because of his prolific work rate. All over the kingdom, next to nothingses, were signposts which read ‘Gandy’s Work’. There was a hut in the middle of the forest, with the sign ‘Gandy’s Work’. There was a latrine in the marketplace tagged ‘Gandy’s Work’. Yea, there was a mountain in the hills thought to be Gandy’s work. In short, Gandy was a workaholic. And whenever the Candonians saw him in public, they would scream ‘Hanky! Hanky! Hanky!’ for ‘hanky’ was the ancient Canodoni word for work. But they were all about to be shocked to their bones.

One day, a man named Jafar d’Aladdin came into Twilistia and Social Mediana declaring to the people, “Bring ye out your magic calabashes, for I have something to shew thee! Tis a vision of Gandy the White. But tis no mere vision, when what ye see is truth!”

Thus were all the magic calabashes brought out and after an advertisement from Buy Thy Chariots dot Com, the vision began. Behold, a man bearing an uncanny identical resemblance to King Gandy was sat in a room that bore an uncanny identical resemblance to the King’s Courts in Canodonia and behind him was a flag bearing an uncanny identical resemblance to the sigil of the kingdom of Canodonia.

But it could not be King Gandy, for this fellow was bald and wore no hat. But then a voice said unto the man, “if thou wouldest receive it, thou must receive it and conceal it in a hurry, your majesty.” So, it was Gandy. Or was it?

“But…” said the Gandy-esque fellow, “I am a religious man. Will taking this from thee not be Her Ram?”

“Not if thou standest up to collect it, Majesty. And especially not if it is Trumpetistani Shekels. Then, it is Her Lal, not Her Ram.”

“Thou art sure?” asked Gandy. It really did seem to be Gandy at this point.

“Yes! Now stand up and receive before Dar Wheezus thy scribe returneth and sees.”

The king arose, as he had been commanded and stretched out his hands. And behold, five bags of Trumpetistani shekels were handed over to him. Quickly he raised his robes, concealed the bags under and sat down again.

The legend was false. He did not have two extra arms for his Hanky. The Social Medianites saw it and there was not a single gaddem chill left in the Kingdom.

“Stop it! Cease and desist!” a voice cried. “It is a doctoring of cyclonic proportions. Tis not my king thou beholdest!” It was Dar Wheezus, defending Gandy.

But chill had departed and unchill returned. And from that day Gandy was no longer known as Gandy the White. He was thenceforth known as MaCashma Gandy, the Great Sold.

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Chronicles of Chill: The Benediction of Shegolas

priest standing near brown concrete wall

Behold, there was chill upon the Kingdom, following the Padipalian selection of Arty Cool as their champion to contend against Gambrach in electoralis. Yea, were the streets full of Coolades, as the supporters of Arty Cool came to be called, singing of the coming of a glorious quadrannium under his reign.

In Bedrock, the league of spinning quills were ill at ease, for the chill of the Coolades suffused the adulation of the Lovengers. And they wondered how they might put the name of Gambrach back in the songs of the people.

“Let us associated Arty with Gejoshaphat,” suggested FemCallamitus, “the people wouldst surely turn against him then.”

“No way, Callams” replied Lay Si, Bashally agreeing with him. “The spirit of forgetfulness is upon them and they sing his praises now.”

“No,” said Gyretta, “we must paint him as the opposite of Gambrach – long, long, long may he reign.” Lar-Yi, who had been ominously quiet, nodded in silent agreement.

And so the spinning quills came out to the people, in Social Mediana, saying unto them, “Be not smitten by the allure of better times under Arty Cool, for though he may be a man of much greater personal success than Gambrach, he is a man of dubious means!!!” And yea, did they slap themselves on their backs, thinking they had said something worthwhile.

Lo, the people would have none of it and quickly reported, “Balavida, the former scribe, devourer of the Kwarapta Intrusivo invasive weeds, roameth free.”

The spinning quills were taken aback but quickly regrouped. “Yea, for 4 quadrannia were the Padipalians on the Iron Throne and see how they did nothing for thee.”

“Laughing our olde assess off!” the people responded, “Woo Doo, Gambrach’s councilor for seedtime & harvest, was the Head of the Padipalian house for years!”

“Gaddem!” replied the Quills as they beat a hasty retreat.

In House Padipalia, the elders and prefects summoned Arty Cool to inform him that there were many quests to be undertaken before he could claim the golden fleece of the Iron Throne.

“First of all, ye must voyage to Owurutas and make peace former King Shegolas, under whom thou served as Hand.” Arty Cool took a deep breath. It was a journey he knew he would eventually have to make.

Legend had it that at the end of the first quadrannium of Shegolas, Arty Cool made all the wardens and capos of bend the knee and swear fealty to him. And yea, when Shegolas heard it, twas said that he came unto Arty Cool demanding that he release the wardens and capos to declare him the champion for electoralis.

And twas said that Arty Cool looked at him Marlonbrandonically and said very coldly, “You come to me this day of electoralis minora to seek my help. But you don’t bow to me. You don’t even call me godfather.”

Behold, Shegolas was said to be aghast. “Godfather? Godfather???  I am thy King. The Iron Throne is mine. You are merely my Hand.”

“Yet here we are…”

“Gaddem! So if I call thee not Godfather nor bow to thee… really? Thou wouldst require this of me?”

“Prostratum in excelsis, bruh.”

And from that time on, the face of Shegolas was turned severely against Arty Cool, such that he failed at every election Amakalically.

Yea, Arty Cool embarked on his quest to Owurutas in the company of the capos of Padipalia, until they came unto the castle of Shegolas. And as Arty Cool beheld Shegolas at the gates waiting to receive them, he alighted from the chariot and flung himself violently to the floor. And lo did he cry out in a loud voice, “O Shegolas, my King! I am only thy unworthy hand – a pitiful footnote in the volumes of your brilliance. Behold, I give unto thee dobalecus in reversam.”

The heart of Shegolas was touched and he proclaimed, “Behold, I welcome Arty Cool & the Gang to my castle today. To them I say, Hi de hi, Hi de ho! I cherish the love we have, as Padipalians. Celebration times are upon us, for I have forgiven him. It is a fresh beginning and behold, he will be too hot for Gambrach at electoralis. Go forth with my blessing, to take the Iron Throne. I have had a feast prepared for this august occasion, so let’s get down on it!”

Yea, the people of Social Mediana and the digital Perusites beheld it and they were well pleased. But in the courts of Gambrach, there was not a gaddem speculum of chill to be found!

 

 

 

Chronicles of Chill: Chill at Last!

 

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Thus it was, that in the 6th month of the 3rd year of the first (and many hoped, ONLY) quadrannium of King Gambrach, Shiwajun returned triumphant to Gideria from Oshunlonica, having led his armies to electoralis in the name of Ayatollah. It was not a time of war, except that in the 37 Kingdoms, the seasons of electoralis were seasons of war.

Lemoda cried out that he and his followers were besieged by the Shiwajunian troops and SolomonO sang songs of lamentation in a strange esoteric dialect that only few understood –

Aiye! Aiye!

Dem block our supporters, dem block all the voters

Dem give out money and dem rig the ballot o

Dem dey killing somebody

And there was no gaddem chill in Oshunlonica.

Yea, even in Gideria, unchill festered as Shango Lulu brandished the seal of Shiwajun across the Kingdom to great acclamation. Behold, Ambsalom was greatly troubled; for Shiwajun and Flasholas had both reigned for 2 quadrannia, yet here he was in the fullness of his cinched waist languishing perilously close to obscurity. Lo, had he even received word that Apicuria did not wish him to stand in electoralis minora.  canst As a knight of the round table of Kwee Lox, he knew it was his bounded duty to resist Shango Lulu.

Wherefore Ambsalom sent sparrows and emissaries to the ends of the firmament, declaring an intergalactic globalmondiale conference of presses, summoning all human and alien scribes to record his proclamation. And as they were all gathered, yea, did Ambsalom address them.

“People of Gideria, Wardens of House Apicuria, what the gaddem heck is wrong with thee? Ye have been so Gambrachised that ye recognise not greatness anymore. Ye wouldest forsake a glorious waist-trained knight of the Kwee for a Shango Lulu? Know ye not of his psychosocial conscription in the Gobi House of Rehabilitation?”

“LIAR!!!!” screamed Shango Lulu, “they tried to make me go to the rehab…but I said NO. No. NO!”

And from that day hence, Shango Lulu was intermittently dubbed Lulu Winehaus. Yea, though he walketh calmly away from Ambsalom, Shiwajun found him sobbing to himself in one of the catacombs. “Why cryest thou? Rememberest thou not the words of Lady Michellin SoberMa?”

“Yes”, smiled Shango Lulu. “When they go low, we get high.” And yea didst he reach into his pocket.

Lo, did the day of minora come and again and Ambsalom appealed to the armies of Shiwajun to stand with him instead. But they had been scaped of their vision and were blind with waste-disposally rage.

Ambsalom then summoned the Apicurian prefects presiding over the minora and asked them, “wilt ye put a man that knoweth what I know to the ignominy of defeat?”

Shomolek replied, “I once was a King like thee. Now I am a maker of Kings. If thou doest as thou threateneth, I shall raise kings to hunt thee down and slice thy cincher. I am a graceful man however and in recognition of thy position, we shall pretend to cancel the polls twice before announcing Shango Lulu.” Ambsalom sighed and resigned to his fate.

And the people saw the hand of Lulu Winehaus lifted in victory but heard only the voice of Shiwajun. And the winds of unchill blew louder.

In Social Mediana and across the land of the digital Perusites, word came of a letter written by King El-Farquaad of Dunamis to Gambrach, concerning the senateen poet Shey Who. “Great King Gambrach, thou recallest that thou authorisest me to procure the expulsion of Shey for suggesting I was enamoured of thy royal blockii (which is plural for blockus, just in case His Majesty was wondering). He trolleth me but Majesty, he trolleth thee as well. Give me the word, that I may smite him and bury him under the weight of 400 million pieces of silver.”

Lo, the people saw how El-Farquaad wished to satisfy his angst, and the unchill rumbled on.

Yea, was minora held across the kingdoms of the land, even unto the Kingdom of Deltonia, where Ser Party Toe wished to be king. Yea, did he expend vast coinage on purchasing the expressio d’interest for House Apicuria and it was said to him that the arena would be behind Arodan Platform 13 and Three Quarters of the Deltonian carriageways. Thus did Party Toe search and search and search. But he was a gaddem muggle and found not the way. Another was chosen to contend for the Deltonian throne.

In Boo Jar, Gambrach was confirmed as the contender for the Iron Throne by the Apicureans. But in the middle of their reveling, a cry was heard from inside Bedrock. It was a muffled cry and the guards had to break down the door to Gambrach’s other room to see what was wrong.

It was Lady Yeesha, vexed of spirit, for her brother had shared in the fate of Ser Party Toe. “This gaddem Shomoleckian House will fall like the bridges of Lawndawn if this persisteth. I have no grouse if thou dupest the brothers of mere mortals and swahvvest the sons of peasants. But when ye do it even to the brother of a queen, a slay queen for that matter, even though I maintaineth my lane in the gaddem oza room, then am I literally shaking right now!!!”

And the people heard it and shouted, “YASSSSSSSSS!!!” and there was nary a gaddem atom of chill in the land.

But news then came to Social Mediana from Rivisinia, that Arty Cool wouldst contend against Gambrach for the Iron Throne and behold, a gush  of hope swept across the land. For a moment, the people glimpsed into the possibility of the reign of Arty Cool, and the unchill abated.

Here endeth the Tword.