The wheels of politicking continued to roll furiously towards the day of electoralis in Jirriah. The contenders for the Iron Throne had all chosen their Hands. Shiwajun had Cashmoney the Shetty Man of Borry Noo as his, Arty Cool had Fan-Yi the King of Deltonia and Obi Wan Pitobi had Soof That Baba as his.
There was a fourth contender – Crank Wazo That Soldier Boy, one time King of Car-Knoe but the people were unsure he had chosen a Hand, as nought was heard of the matter from his camp.
Thus did the contenders traverse the four (or perhaps, six) corners of the Kingdom, seeking to make disciples of all men, women and children. In Social Mediana, the contention and lighting of gas between their supporters was frenetic. “The stench of narcotia ensconces Shiwajun,” one camp would cry, to which the others would respond, “Obi Wan kenno’be King, for he is of wretched structure,” to which others yet would reply, “Arty Cool bathest in the esoteric pools of corroupcion!” Yea, would the acolytes of Crank Wazo observe, wondering why none sought to banter their champion.
Daily, Lastus Boltammo, Gambrach’s junior councillor for enslavement and Shiwajun’s appointed shithouserist, would waltz into Twillistia singing gleefully about the maturation of a certain jungle, and how that would favour Shiwajun. Is he a zoologist or botanist or some sort of mad scientist, the people often wondered. On the Padipalian side, Dinobetes Mellitus had positioned himself as nemesis to Lastus. The jesterful antics of Dinobetes were already known, so his shithousery was no surprise to anyone.
But indeed, Shiwajun and Artycool were the front runners. However, the Jedi followers of Obi Wan simply would not go away. Daily the Apircueans and Padipalian soothsayers showed them the route to the Iron Throne, exasperated, for they saw no way for Obi Wan Pitobi. “Beware the Ides of Electoralis, for ye shalt be taught lessons,” they warned the Pitobians.
Shiwajun struggled with speech as he sought to proselytise. His sentences frequently disintegrated into babble, despite King Shangolulu’s desertion of Gideria to serve as the Shiwajunian Whisperer. Yea, despite his lips residing in Shiwajun’s cochlea, it saved Shiwajun not. And the unchill began to bubble in the land about the seeming frailty of Shiwajun.
And in that day, Lord Mefilius, Warden of the Iron Bank of Boo Jar proclaimed an edict across all of Jirriah.
“Citizens of Jirriah, the reign of King Gambrach cannot end without another throwback to his glorious Kingship whilst he was a man of Gunn. Thy borders have been closed, thy petrolatum is scarce, rentiers walk again among us. Behold! Now is the time for us to repaint our Kingdom’s coin with ultramodern paint. It shall be shiny, it shall be rainbowfull and it shall be the only legal tender in the Kingdom in the 3 weeks leading up to Electoralis. Long Live the glorious foresight and hindsight of our great King Gambrach!“
And the unchill in the land grew. For in the olden recoinage of Gambrach, there was a huge shortage in the circulatory supply of money.
Not long after, news came to the Jirrians that the Despotic Squad Squadron had declared Mefilius wanted, for financing the fomentation of terror. With the incoming or outgoing money, the people wondered. Yea, like another bankman that was fried, Mefilius sought refuge in a faraway land and no one knew whence he had exiled himself. The people were astounded, for the Dastardly Suffering Squad (one of their many other names) reported to the King himself. Couldst it be that Gambrach sought to reward the devotion of Mefilius with a healthy dose of wahala morghulis?
Gambrach himself put paid to these thoughts by declaring to the people that Mefilius was carrying out his wishes (why then was he ‘ranning’?) and that sufficient time had been given to the upstanding to secure legitimate swapping of outgoing for incoming coin. And then, in a completely tangential outburst – in the future, when smileys are invented, as prophesied by the Chronicler, a shaded smiling one will be inserted at this point in the manuscript – he declared, “Jirrians shall be free to vote for whomseoever they choose!”
“But Majesty, though art an Apicurean. Surely you mean vote for Shiwajun?”
“Yes! For whomsoever they choose!”
A great rumbling was heard in the land but would you believe it, it was not the unchill of which the Chronicler has long since Chronicled. No. It was a creaking of the firmaments of all the structures in the land. As it turned out, structures had to be reinforced daily with coin. And it could not be the coin that was routed through the Iron Bank of Boo Jar and its mushrooms, for all the vaults in all the banks in all the land were not large enough to hold it all. And to change all that structures money into the new Gambrachian coin was a project that would take the skill of a meister of the 2 Princes to manage in the short timeframe – and alas, there was only 1 Prince as Gambrach had just the one male offspring (this is a joke of the Chronicler, by the way – hehehe).
Wherefore Shiwajun went again to the Kingdom of King Dah-Poe the Abjectly Common One to speak again to the people in High Yorballian. Dah-Poe was still basking in the euphoria of his audio award from the Fugazi Orbs as overall best in Kingship in FreeKah, so he received Shiwajun in High Spirits.
Shiwajun was more sullen than usual and cried out in High Yorballian –
“Why do the heathens rage and the people imagine a vain thing? The rulers of Jirriah, my fellow Apicureans no less, have set themselves and taken counsel against me, the Shiwajun of all Yorballian Lands. They have sought to break my bands asunder, ground all our chariots and are attempting to cast the coin away from me. Well, let me declare this here and now – I, who sit in the heavens of Bored Dyllon will laugh. I will have them in derision. For regardless of what they do, I shall be set as thy King upon the holy hill of Bedrock, in Boo Jar!”
The people saw it, the people heard it. And there was no gaddem chill in the land!