The clouds of electoralis continued to gather in the Kingdom of Jirria and soon it was time for each electorailing house to choose its champion.
The Apicureans had declared in large numbers and a huge electoralis primera was planned, and hotly anticipated in Twilistia and Social Mediana. The word in Twilistia was that Gambrach desireth to serve Shiwajun a burnaboynian breakfast. However, it was known to all men that none was better in the arts of Wahala Morghulis than Shiwajun himself.
In House Padipalia, the leading contenders were Fearsome Wee-Kay of Rivissina, Obi-Wan Pitobi of Nambria and Arty Cool the Perennial. As the electoralis primera of the Padipalians drew nigh, Obi-Wan Pitobi awoke one morning, feeling uneasy after the dream he’d had. In his dream, he had seen a structureless house, with no foundations, with no shishi, floating above a huge Rock. And a voice said unto him, “Obi-Wan, thou art the Pitobi, and upon your rock, my structurelessness shall stand!”
Wherefore, Pitobi gathered his robes and belongings and announced his departure from the Padipalians, for the vision was clear to him. He vanished for three days and three nights, and when he emerged, he emerged as champion for House Dohaeris. Lo, did the Apicureans and Padipalians make huge mockery of him and the Dohaerisses, saying “the Dohaerisses have not the benefit of historical pillaging of the public purse to fund their activities. Obi-Wan shall soon realise that men of honesty cannot take the Iron Throne of Boo-Jar.”
In Apicurean gatherings, Shiwajun sensed a less than overwhelming support for his ambitions and thus decided to remind the Apicureans of just who he was. He journed to Ogunssopotamia and spake to the gathering in High Yorballian, saying –
“Have ye forgotten just who the hell I am? Remember ye not how my hands have held up the firmament of our great house and how thy kings are inscribed upon the palms of my hands? Could even this abjectly common one,” he sneered towards King Dah-Poe, “be King without my benefactions?“
And from that day on, King Dah-Poe became known throughout Jirriah by his new title, King Dah-Poe The Abjectly Common.
Shiwajun continued. “Twas these same benefactions that enthroned King Gambrach in Boo Jar. Had he not failed and failed and failed and failed and failed and failed and failed? Yea, he wept when he remembered he hadn’t won. But I came unto him and carried away his lachrymallity, requiring from him just a word, that he would not forget the Yorball in the Boo-Jarrian lands. Behold, the Iron Throne must fall to us Yorballs and yea, it must fall to me! In the words of the great ancient prophetess Diana of Rawsse, ‘It’s my turn!’ Ich bin dran, so get me Amy Logan!!!”.
“Amy Logan?”, asked the Abjectly Common one and the other Apicurians. “Yes”, answered Shiwajun, “Amy Logan. Get her.”
Lo, the people heard it and unchill began to rumble in the land.
Thus, the time drew nigh for the Padipalians to conduct their primera and select their champion. And despite Abushola’s eloquence and Fearsome Wee-Kay’s fidelity and fiduciary fulminousity to the Apicureans, Arty Cool emerged champion and flag bearer. Fearsome believed it not and for days later he was heard singing the Daminian Lament, “Ye shalt be amazed at the result oh (I was), there’s nothing to discuss oh, I didn’t win by default oh, I canst withstand this insult oh, I NEED A BOAT AND SHY HOES!!!“
Yea, did the pendulum swing unto the Apicureans. And lo, they came, one after the other, to make their case to be champion. Most notable of them was Ben Ten Jack Too Rich who drew inspiration from his mother’s susceptibility to amorous defraudment and her consequential gestatory prolificness.
Try as they might, no one could withstand the Wahala Morghulis of Shiwajun, who won by a mudslide, beating Monoraillius Incompletus well into second place.
The die was cast. And last last, the Apicureans all had breakfast. Shah Yo O!
But then news came to Twillistia that Shiwajun bore the scars of narcotic indictments and forfeitures from Bidenistan; that though he was a man of the abacus, the beads upon which the number of his years could acurately be counted had yet to be invented; and that, contrary to legend, Iragbijishire was where his umbilical cord was buried.
The people heard it and there was no gaddem chill in the land.