Chronicles of Chill: The Yar Curbian Delayment and the Neduskian Detainment

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The Chronicles have been revealed unto man that he mayest learn from the passage of time, for time like an ever rolling circular stream bears all its sons to repeat themselves. Thus, as electoralis was deferred at the beginning and end of Gejoshaphat’s quadrannium, was it also deferred as Gambrach and Arty Cool contended for the Iron Throne of Boo Jar.

Yea, was there great unchill, even from the Lovengers, who surely would have proclaimed it the greatest deferment in the history  of postponements under normal circumstances.

Wherefor Shomolek, Head of House Apicuria, remonstrated strongly with Ser Yar Curb, who had succeeded Jegatrix the Man of Chill, as head of the Necomongers, umpires of electoralis across the 37 kingdoms.

“What the gaddem heck dost thou believe thyself to be doing? Yea, even as Lateefus Kayodexicus demandeth, ‘what kind of job you doing’? Now I am forced to be away from the castle next week, when I had plans to be with my sweet baby girl. Let me ask ye, Ser Yar Curb, if it were thee, wouldst thou not prefer to be with my sweet baby girl than standing out in the sun? Lo, I am violently pissed off against thee!”

But Yar Curb invoked the spirit of Jegatrix and maintained his composure and answered Shomolek not. “People of the 37 Kingdoms, the Necomongers have suffered great sabotage and violent attacks, laying waste to our best laid plans. But fear ye not, I have conceived an ultramodern grand masterplan to right it all within seven days. Yea, like the ancient Greek prophet Craigus Davidus foresaw in his most famous tome ‘One Week’, I too shall go back to work on Monday, send out 40 ravens on Tuesday, sort out voting parchments by Wednesday and on Thursday and Friday, vote Saturday, chill on Sunday, Selah.”

Lo, the unchill was yet severe, for many had voyaged long distances to participate in electoralis, for the Necomongers were not possessed of sufficient sophistication to re-enlist the citizens whenever they relocated. Many had carefully arranged weddings and funerals to avoid the unchill of electoralis and now, even they were foiled. For the Kingdom was not possessed of sufficient sophistication for the citizens to vote in normalcy. And yea, it was in that day that the spirit of Exitus Canadius descended again most mightily amongst the people, tempting them with dreams of icicles and frosted breath.

Behold, as unchill swirled, was a cry heard from the Kingdom of Dunamis, where Lord El-Farquaad reigned. It was a cry from none other than Lord El-Farquaad himself. “Agony! Wailing! Gnashing of teeth! We stand in the cold blood of our three score and half dozen Fulannister brothers who have been murdered in Jurkan! Tis a tragedy!”

And yea, the unchill in the kingdom waxed stronger.

Lord El-Farquaad continued, “Now, I know that I have previously warned Tywinnically and Tyrionically that the life of a Fulannister is a loan and Fulannisters will always collect their debt. However, I beg of my Fulannister brethren this time to write it off as a non-performing loan. No need to collect, please dear.”

But Ser Din Kallus, a man of expertise in the law and Warden of the Kingdom’s Civicus Council had sent ravens to Jurkan to verify the Farquaadian claims and none of the Jurkanian meisters could verify the deaths. Wherefor he came unto the people, and the Social Medianites and the Twillistines to enquire, “Doth Lord El-Farquaad seek to foment and be starting something? Yea, have I spoken to the people of Jurkan and nary a person seeeth what the king claimeth.”

And yea did the unchill in the kingdom wax stronger.

Thus it was that the Twillistines beheld another unsettlement from Startuppitytomia, in the Technophilia region of Social Mediana. Technophilia was a gated community, where a group of people known as the Flounders had assembled to save the 37 kingdoms by means of the ancient art of technosis. The Flounders acquired wealth by wrestling angels from the realms of glory, as the biblical Jacob did, to bequeath them investment wealth seeds.

One such flounder named Neduski Marikov, who had joined Technophilia from faraway Wasrav, had cried out to the Social Medianites of his expulsion from Startuppitytomia by his heavenly investor.

“Behold, I departed from my princely estates in Wasrav to fix the image of thy kingdoms and I wrestled with my angel and he blessed me. And lo, I built things beyond anyone’s imagination using my special mastery of technosis. But because of my flowing hair, fair skin and alien accent, my angel and his posse flagged me on the Galactopol wanted register and I was locked up (they didn’t let me out) locked up (they didn’t let me out) locked up, wooooooooooooh! But now I’m out, I shall write it all in a tome and use the money to build an outreach centre known as the Neduski Marikov Centre for Kids Who Don’t Technosis Too Good.”

And there was no chill in Startuppitytomia as other Flounders and their builders rebutted the Marikovian account. Stannis Boyejius of Mandela and Utterbrave was the first to respond, saying “Tis a shame thou wert locked up (they didn’t let you out). Tis also a shame how thou frolicked away thine angel’s wealth, my guy!”

Yea, did Woyicus of the Righting Racks also refute with great gusto. “Dude, thou didst thy technosis with dualisation which ye didst not reveal to the angels and the heavenly host. Thy Galactopol penitentiarisation be on thy head!!!”

And all across the land, in Boo Jar, in Social Mediana, in Twillistia, in all the 37 kingdoms and yea, even in Startuppitytomia, there was no gaddem chill!!!

 

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Chronicles of Chill: King Ambsalom’s Personal Crisis

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There was no gaddem chill in all of the land. Across the kingdoms, the senateens, junior senateens and kings jostled and positioned in readiness for electoralis.

At the Magistracy, an emergency meeting of the High Primussy Council was called to ponder the matter of Nono Gengen’s ouster by Gambrach, the sort of thing unseen since the days of the Men of Gunn.

“Branko, why givest thou thyself to Gambrach to appoint in breach of our customs. Knowest thou not, that thou disseth Nono Gengen and bring opprobrium unto the Primussy?”

“Brothers in Magistrasis,” said Branko, “hate ye the player when tis the game ye ought to hate?”

“Oh really?” replied the High Primussy Council. “Verily, verily, we say unto thee, we are in receipt of a petition against thee from the quill of Kogba Lisa, of the iuris and we hereby give thee seven days to respond. Now depart from us!”

Nono Gengen heaved a sigh of relief. “Brothers, I knew ye wouldest save me from…”

“Slow your roll, ol’boy!” they cautioned. “Behold, thou art also given seven days to respond to the petition raised against thee! Now ye also begone!”

Lo, even as the High Primussy Council moved to restore the sanctity of the Magistracy, ravens were sent from the emissaries of Trumpstantinople, Jandinia and The Yuros to Gambrach saying, “Dude, thou thinkest thyself to be slick, messing with the Magistracy on the eve of Electoralis. Behold, as the ancient saying of the 37 kingdoms goes, ‘dat kain ting get as e be, bruh!’ Desist from this unchill, with true integrity, lest we be forced to demonstrate true integrity to thee.”

Caballee and Caballum were incensed and said to Gar Bar, “Go unto the emissaries and tell them that they need to respeck our authoritahhh!”

Yea did Gar Bar go unto Social Mediana, declaring unto the foreign emissaries, “We fear ye not. I declare unto thee, as did Chemical Allee of Messopotamia, that we have armies and we have the nuclear weapon of King Gambrach’s powerful charm. Ye willst not know what hitteth thee, whah lar hee!”

Wherefore the Trumpetistanis and the Yourozees said unto the Jandinians, “Activate the Gambrachian hocus pocus remote controlcus that ye implanted in him during his convalescence in thy territory.” Yea, was it activated by the Janidinians and thus did Gambrach begin to meskafumble, even worse than when the affliction of WhyWereWhereWeWhahWhereWeWe came upon Osinoshin.

Behold, Gambrach recogniseth not his Apircurean brothers, nor recalled the offices for which they vied and on occasion announced them as vying for the Iron Throne of Boo Jar. It was a malarkey of confoundium and wrought severe unchill upon the land. But Caballee and Caballum ensured that he pressed on.

And in the Kingdom of Gideria, King-in-waiting Shangolulu unlocked the Ubiquity stone. Giderians saw him on banners in the township, on scrolls in the citadels, lying in wait for them in the latrines, knocking on their eyelids in their sleep, delivering their young at the midwifery, milking their cows on the farms, yea one Giderian swore Shangolulu nearly accompanied him into the other room!

Lo, they saw him, heard him, tasted him, smelt him, felt him all over their skin and even felt him squeezing their medulla oblongatas. Not a sensory organ existed that Shangolulu did not invade virally.

Wherefore the Giderian assembly asked themselves “Of what use is Ambsalom to us in the glorious age of Shangolulu? Canst we not draw early curtains on the quadrannium of Ambasolum and hasten the glorious age of Shangolulu?”

But their Warden cautioned them, “Tis not a journey on which we can embark unless Shiwajun prohibiteth it not. Seek ye first the face of Shiwajun and the rest may be added.”

Lo, did a delegation go unto Shiwajun in his castle.

“Hail, Shiwajun! Fearless leader, first of his name, scion of Iragbijishire, annointer of Shangolulu. We pray for thy blessing to expunge Ambsalom the Forgotten.”

Shiwajun said nought but winked and shook his head.

“Thou sayest we can expunge him?”

Shiwajun winked again, shaking his head and saying, “I say not that I am not saying that thou canst not not expunge Ambsalom the Forgotten, shey’get?”

The assembly men were confused. “Wise Shiwajun, shall we expunge him then?”

Shiwajun winked again and shook his head. “I have said all that needs to be said.”

Yea, did the assembly men rise against Ambsalom, moving to topple him from the throne. The people saw it and there was no gaddem chill.

Then did Shiwajun rise most mightily to proclaim not just to their hearing but all across the land, “Touch not my formerly anointed and do my Forgotten no harm! Ambsalom shall not be expunged.”

The people heard it and there was no gaddem chill.

And then, in the kingdom of the Crescent Lakes, King Ben Yade announced a brand new coinage for the kingdom. “Crescent Lakeians, behold thy new coinage! Tis a coinage even more glorious than my last hallucination. Yea, have I called it ‘The Glorious Coinage of Occultic Manifestations of Voodoo Denseness!!!”

Lo, in all the gaddem land, yea in every gaddem nook and cranny, was nary a gaddem chill left to be seen!

Chronicles of Chill: The Tapestries of Rotamachus

Lights, Shadows, Color, Sky, Bloom

As electoralis drew nigh, the spirit of unchill descended most mightily upon the land, sweeping with violence and blowing however it gaddem felt.

Lo, did it blow unto the castle of Dinobetes Mellitus, where the hosts of the constabulary encamped around his dwelling in besiegement. And none could enter or depart Castle Mellitus for it was cut off from the rest of civilisation.

Dinobetes climbed up into the ramparts and saw the legions of the constabulary in waylayment. And he cried out unto them, “Why campest ye around my castle. Know ye not of my extreme closeness to Abushola the Warden of Senatii?”

“Aye!” responded the Chief Besieger, “but verily I say unto thee that the magistratum has ordered your arrest.”

“I command thee to leave the vicinity of my castle forthwith!!! Ye shouldst know that I am not one to be messed with!”

“We shall go nowhere! And if thou likest it not, call the Constabulary. Ooops! We are already here! Muahahahahaha!!!”

Dinobetes tried to send a pigeon to Abushola but it was promptly shot out of the sky. He sighed, knowing the game was up.

“Lower the drawbridge,” he commanded his manservant. Then he said a quick prayer to Syncope, the god of elite sanctimony. “O Syncope, I am about to be delivered unto the Constabulary and I need your help. Descend upon me and afflict me with thy most holy malady.”

Behold, as Dinobetes yielded himself, Syncope answered his prayer and struck him most violently with incontinence and unconsciousness. All of Twilistia beheld it and there was no chill.

In Bedrock, the spinning quills of Gambrach were concerned that he was not stumping. “Sire, Sai You, Sai Me, Sai it together naturally. Tis known to all men that thou wouldst vanquish Arty Cool without even trying but for the sake of appearances…”

“Oh, must I?” he asked Osinoshin. “Tis indubitably so”, replied Osinoshin.

Thus it was that Gambrach ventured to the land of Bom Akwaaba – the land of King Dom Inik – to stump. “Bom Ak are you with me?” Gambrach asked the Akwaabians. “Oh yeah, we’re voting Gambs, we ain’t goin’ nowhere!” came the refrain. “I promise the stump, the whole stump, nothing but the stump!” Gambrach replied.

Yea, it was a triumphant outing. But Gambrach returned to Bedrock in Boo Jar extremely fatigued. The Quills eagerly planned another stumpage but news suddenly came to the people that Lady Zar Kar of the Electoralis Umpirage was a kinswoman of Gambrach.

Wherefore Gar Bar went unto the people, with Lay Si in his shadow, to declare “Lady Zar Kar is a most genteel lady of the highest integrity and competence, who is only coincidentally, marginally and non-consanguinally related by a marriage of their relatives. Heed not the word of the Padipalians.”

But Gambrach had had enough and summoned Shiwajun. “Ser Shiwajun, wilt thou stump on my behalf with Osinoshin as thou didst in the electoralis of Gejoshaphat. I canst withstand this shit no more.”

“It would be my pleyyor, Your Majesty” answered Shiwajun.

“Great! Give them Wahala Morghulis in this Season 8,” said Gambrach, holding up 4 fingers on each hand.

And the people heard that Gambrach had ceded stumping to Shiwajun and there was no chill, but the Lovengers threw the GoT Season 8 sign wherever they found themselves. Yea, even Lady Yeeshah, who had complained of Caballee and Caballum.

Lo, it was at that time that Rain o’Mockery, the Irishman of uncertain function in the council of Gejoshaphat shewed the people a tapestry of Rotamachus, depicting Gambrach leading the country into tears and war and famine and gnashing of teeth.

Behold, all saw it and there was no chill. Lay Si, the Quill of Gambrach in Social Mediana, was particularly incensed. “This is a Wendellian lie! A Simlinous deception! This is not a tapestry from this electoralis but from the last.”

o’Mockery laughed in glee. “Thou sayest twas Rotamachus whilst he stabbed Gejosphat in the back, but behold the tapestry in much greater length!!!”

And thus it was that another tapestry of Rotamachus was unveiled, depicting Rotamachus himself predicting certain doom for the Kingdom and the unfeelingness of Gambrach.

Lay Si took up a magnifying glass to examine the stitches. “Aha!” he cried, “the stitches of this tapestry have been spliced and it rejoined in different places. It is a tapestry of falsehood!”

“Oh? No longer tapestry from the time of Gejoshaphat?” the Social Medianites asked, but there was no answer.

Rain o’Mockery, the Irish, Wendellian, Simlinous, antagonist revealed to the Twilistians, the Social Medianites and the Digital Perusites that he had even more tapestry, which could very well rip the curtain of the inner chamber of the Apicurean House.

And there was no speck, no atom, no figment, no gaddem modicum of chill in the land!!!

 

Chronicles of Chill: The Strings of Deux Cabales & the Gossipotamian Virgin Birth

person playing puppet dog

 

All over the land, in all the kingdoms, there was unchill and there was anticipation of precipitation of unchill. Twas the nature of the beast of electoralis, wild and perverse, and none couldest tame it.

In Gideria, Shangolulu fought to wrest himself of the title of stooge of Shiwajun but the people would have it not. “No one emergest from nowhere to become King whilst another sitteth on the throne unless he is a puppet of Shiwajun” it was frequently said to him. One morning, on Charr Knells, he finally had enough and declared unto the people, “Be ye not of blockered brains. I have always been somewhere as ye are somewhere now. Therefore nobody cometh from nowhere for everybody is someone from somewhere, gaddemmit!!!”

There was a rumbling of unchill.

And thus it was that Gambrach mounted his winged chariot once more and made for the land of Polskinia for a summit of the rulers of the earth on climatic changes. Gambrach was eager to participate, for he was keen to change the climate of chill within his own kingdom.

As was customary, the spirit of silence and reticence which so severely incapacitated him within his domain was instantly confounded by the sanity abroad and refused to descend from the winged chariot with Gambrach.

With his faculties of speech returned, Gambrach was eager to get some pressing matters off his chest, most particular of which pertained to the whispers right down from the Lords and Nobles to the plebs, about the authenticity of his existential condition and the foreign province of Sous Darne.

“Behold, I make haste to declare unto ye all in Polskania, before the demon Mutatis Mutandis returneth and maketh me mute again, that the whispers of my having perished and undergone asexual recreation and enclonology by the meisters in the Kingdom of Sah Oud are false. The me that thou beholdest here today is the version that proceedeth from the womb of his mother, fear not. If another me existeth and hath supplanteth me, in the words of my predecessor Gejoshaphat, the Kingdom of Trumpstantinople wouldst know.”

Yea and gaddem, the unchill that followed was as the flood of Noah, deluging the earth with ridicule and opprobriumunto Gambrach and his Kingdom.

Lo, as Lady Yeeshah, the wife of Gambrach beheld it in Bedrock, she couldst contain her own angst no longer, and cried out unto the people, “Save my husband thy king from the strings of the Deux Cabales which pulleth him whither and whence they pleaseth. I beg of thee! He behaveth so weirdly that I recognise him no longer!”

And her cry was heard all the way in Polskinia, wherefore the people came unto Gambrach asking, “art thou truly the Gambrach of the womb or the Gambrach made to deceive the tomb? For thy own wife sayeth she recogniseth thee not.”

But Gambrach had re-ascended his winged chariot where Mutatis Mutandis had lain in wait to enmute him again. And he was silent.

“Oh Sheet!” cried Sagacious, Gambrach’s counsellor for Kwarapshan, in frustration. “How shall Gambrach contend with Arty Cool in debatum if we canst not get Mutatis to depart from him in the Kingdom. Not that he hath much to say, but still…”

“Canst we not proclaim in his name that debatum be staged in Jandinia, where King Gambrach is usually at his most outspoken?” volunteered Lady Bee Ree, Gambrach’s counsellor for Subjects Who Had Seen the Light and Fled the Kingdom.

“No,” said a voice from within. It was Caballee, half of the Deux Cabales that had been stringing Gambrach along. “We shall send Oshinoshin to do the Too Wrenchy of debatum in Gambrach’s stead.”

The other half of the Deux Cabales, Caballum, was not convinced and said, “But wouldst we not cause a torrent of unchill by doing so? The people would demand the King, for it is Rex Debatum, not Debatum of Hands. Oshinoshin shouldst only contend with Wan Kenobi.”

The scribes waited patiently for Caballee and Caballum to reach a consensus.

“We have Lovengers aplenty, Caballum. If Sagacious declareth that it breacheth not the law of the land for a Hand to contend for the King in Rex Debatum, the Lovengers will unthinkingly agree. It is their way!”

Caballum agreed with Caballee and Sagacious made the declaration. And lo, there was unchill but it was a fairly subdued one. “Seest thou what I meaneth?” asked Caballee triumphantly. But they quickly saw that the reason for the relative calm was that the Twilistines and Social Medianites had gathered at the temple of Gossipotamia, the goddess of Cho Cho Cho and Shobolation. High Priestess Melinda TheSecond had summoned the people for a ministration and a time of worship.

Caballee and Caballum joined the people in the temple and listened to Melinda as she began to speak.

“Brethren, but sisthren especially, for I am a sister like thee, I come before thee today to present my son unto thee. He is heir to my kingdom and will inherit the sacrifices you bring to the temple of our goddess daily. I am aware that most of ye think his birth to be a virgin birth, for I am sublime and holy in my ways and have despised the motherhood of singularity but yea, shit happeneth. Tis life.

“For I came upon a man named Jorrow Me, as prophesied in the music of the prophetess See Mee. I wanted Jorrow baby to love me and he did for a time. Yea, I gave him green lightings, told him take my numbers and call me later for I wanted to be his lover. Behold, I embarked on long pilgrimages to visit him in Shangotedonia to prepare him for the life of a High Priestess’s consort. We just talked and held hands. Yet somehow, I fell into the enwombment of my son. Look at him so precious and beautiful. Lauratidyn, hold thy nephew up for all to see.

“And so, I conclude this presentation with these final words. Jorrow Me ditched me but he enriched me first. I thank Gossipotamia, our goddess for her divine direction always and you hoes out there need to stop hating and be like me, so that ye canst all have thy motherhood of singularity in luxury and be conveyed about in a chariot like mine – made of the finest Valryian steel and costing of a hundred million shekels, bitches! The sermon is ended.”

The people heard it all. And there was no gaddem chill in the land!

 

Chronicles of Chill: The Mystical Goblet of Ner Potty

brown wooden footed cup

And it came to pass, in the 7th month of the third year of the first quadrannium of Gambrach, that Yar Courb the Head Umpire for electoralis declared the contest open. Lo did all contenders for the Iron Throne and the thrones of the thirty-six kingdoms in the land.

Arty Cool brandished parchment containing his plans for the kingdom, trying to convinced the people to make him King. Very careful was he to avoid stumbling over arithmetic like Gambrach did when he broke 100% into 97% and 5%. Arty Cool kept everything 100, speaking only in blocks of 100%. He was, as they say, “all in” and promised all in cluesion if he were to be chosen as King.

In the Kingdom of Gideria, the disembowelment of Ambsalom was complete, as twas often said, “sheet nor dey him yansh again”. For Shangolulu, though yet to be formally be emballoted let alone elected king, marched about the kingdom with unmitigated swagger and infinite bravado. Yea, was he accepted by the nobles of the kingdom, elevated even above Ambsalom at their convivialities and soirees, for he bore the indelible mark of Shiwajun.

Wherefore Ambsalom looked upon the Giderians in muted anger and said to himself, “it falleth to him who receiveth the glory and honour of the throne to exercise the power attached to it. Lo, I shall log out of the Kingship app and delete my user profile and card details.”

Thus it was that congestion befell the Giderians in their work, in their play and even in their sleep. And there was no chill with them.

In Bedrock, Gambrach summoned his advisers, asking them how he might go about the business of electoralis. “Is there chill in Social Mediana?” Gambrach asked Bashally and Lay Si. “Canst I go unto them as I did in the last quadrannium.”

“Sire, there is no gaddem chill there. They accuse your majesty of launching the projects of Gejoshaphat and remind us when we proclaim that the Padipalians did nothing for 4 quadrannia that Rotamachus of the unfinished bridge, King El-Farquaad of Dunamis, Woo Doo thy counsellor for subsistence farming and many others that surround thee used to be Padipalians.”

“In fact, sire,” added FemCallamitus, “they declare that ye must contend in debatery with Arty Cool lest thou deniest all said on thy behalf again.”

“Okay, but wherefor art the Burgundy Medianites by whom I was zarafied at the electoralis past?” enquired Gambrach. “Chubacca and Deb Solo? Do they no longer stand with us?”

“Sire, ’tis said they are now with Morgallus.”

Tired, Gambrach asked for mead to be brought to him in his goblet of Nerr Potty. The gourd was the fruit of one of his conquests as a Man of Gunn, against the marauding Meyter Sheenes. He had pursued them beyond the borders of the kingdom, into their cave, vanquishing them most mightily. He let his men plunder the cave and kept for himself the most spartan, least ostentatious item of the lot – a simple wooden goblet.

Whenever he drank from the goblet, he received a clear and urgent urge to appoint someone very close to him to something quite important. It was one of these close associates that told Gambrach the ancient legend of the goblet of Nerr Potty. The goblet of Nerr Potty also had the power to relieve the discomfort of people from Crow Knee’s disease if the drinker spoke a blessing upon them. Many of the courtiers eagerly awaited the nights when Gambrach drank from his goblet, often pretending to suffer Crow Kneeism to be granted an audience with the king.

Yea, as Gambrach drank, he looked upon his son-in-law, June Ides, and put him in charge of the kingdom’s borders. Then he looked upon FemCallamitus and asked, “Still no ideas on how we might proceed on electoralis? Thou must improve dramatically, if thou wouldest take thy spokesmanship for me to the next level.”

Lo, FemCallamitus had a moment of lightbulbing and declared, “Oh my gracious, most blessed king. Let it be unto us as thou hast said! We shall tell the people that thou and only thou canst take them unto the next level.”

“Next level of what?” asked Gambrach, confused.

“Sire, it mattereth not. For whether it be forward or backward, upward or downward, it shall be with thee. Therefore it is next.”

Gambrach played with the thought and decided he liked it.

“I like it!” he declared, taking another sip. “Let us do it! We shall kick it off with a great banquet and launch. Summon all the Apicurean nobles, the influenzas from Social Mediana, the generals from the garrisons…”

“…sire, the generals? But…” interjected Lady Bee Ree. Gar Bar immediately cut her off, saying “What the King means…”

“THOU SHALT NOT MANSPLAIN TO ME!!!!”

Gambrach took another sip. “Gar Bar, you shall be in charge of the feast. Go thou and get everyone now.”

Wherefore Gar Bar gathered them all, and the all people in the land beheld the feast of the next level. All was well until it was seen that the generals were in attendance?

“WHAT??? THE GENERALS PLEDGE LOYALTY TO APICURIA AND GAMBRACH??? This infringeth the law and mores and norms of our land!!!”

“Your Majesty I tried to tell you…”, began Lady Bee Ree, “YOU DID NOT CONVINCE ME!!!” cried Gambrach.

Yea did Gar Bar remember the ancient mind trick of the Jedi and said unto the people, “Ye did not see the generals. They came but they left. For they knew not that the gathering was unto electoralis. But really, ye did not see them.”

“The false is very strong with this one,” remarked the Social Medianites and the Digital Perusites. Of course, they believed Gar Bar not. And in all of the land, not a gaddem flake of chill was left.

 

 

Chronicles of Chill: The Mental Conscription of the Imolekites

Terracotta warriors

Thus it was, that the legend of Macashma Gandy grew. He was Macashma, the Great Sold. And again and again, did the visions of Jafar d’Aladdin come unto the people, shewing Gandy basking in Trumpetistani Shekels like the ancient quacker Duckie McScrooge. But the people of Canodoni were not troubled, for they also believed the revelation of the Great Sold – ‘when loot is plundered in Trumpetistani coin, it is no longer Her Ram.”

Daily would is scribe, Dar Wheezus, come into the streets of Social Mediana proclaiming the greatness of the Macasha. Yea, did he unlook all that was said of Gandy.

Meanwhile, Arty Cool had announced the choice of Petrus Wan Kenobi as his Hand. Wan Kenobi had served as King in Nambria for two quadrannia, before he was succeeded by King Dynamo Dick, who loved to proclaim the strength of his delivery, of Kingship, that is.

Wan Kenobi had also superintended Bankus Fidelis for several years. “Behold my Hand, in whom I am well pleased,” proclaimed Arty Cool, as they boarded his winged chariot and headed for the Arabian Kingdom of Doo Ba-Yee. Yea, were the Apicureans much triggered.

“Is this the King, ye would foist on us, Padipalians?” they asked. “A king who wouldest retreat to foreign Kingdoms? A king who preferreth the lavish rooms of abroadian chalets? A king who wouldest speak to thee from abroa… oh, right, never mind.” It was a flash triggering that subsided as quickly as it materialised, and what it was that changed their disposition remains a mystery to this very day.

Lo, another whirlwind descended on the Apicureans as Shomolek, the Head of House Apicurea, as the Deliverance Squad Squadron interrupted his afternoon tea with his wife, Babygirlita. “Thou must come with us, Ser Shomolek!” they demanded.

“But I am having afternoon tea with Babygirlita.”

“That mayest be, but even our former Commander had to come with us when we demanded it.”

“That mayest be, but I am Head of thy King Gambrach’s House Apicurea. My Ye is different to his Ye, dudes.”

“Well, tis the Apicurean kings who have demanded thy deliverance. They charge thee with receiving Gandonic lubrications and perverting electoralis. Thou must answer and thou must remove thyself from headship. Shomolek was about to protest further but he was bundled into their Deliverance Chariot and whisked away.

King Roe Chazz of Imolek was one of the disgruntled Apicurean Kings. Having served Apicurea and the Imolekites faithfully for two quadrannia with statues and the discovery of acidic rain, he felt entitled to install Inlaw Luther Roach and Toaster Luther Roach, as king and hand after his reign had come to an end. True, they were his son-in-law and favoured suitor of his daughters, respectively, but the statues, dammit!

Seeing Shomolek bundled away by the Deliverancers, Roe Chazz signalled to his honcho, Giringori, that it was time. “Time for what?” asked Toaster Luther Roach.

Wherefore Giringori blew his trumpet and gathered Imolekites from the four corners of the Kingdom into Way-Ree, its capital. “Greatest Imolekites! Articulate Imolekites!”

Arty Coolate???” snorted Roe Chazz in anger. “Forgive me, my King,” pleaded Giringori.

“Great Imolekites, ye know we have a great king! Sing with me a song as we usher ourselves into his presence. We are gathering together unto him (unto Roe Chazz), we are gathering together unto him (unto Roe Chazz), unto Chazz shall the gathering of his people be, we are gathering together unto him.

The Social Medianites and the digital Perusites saw it and were aghast. But the best was yet to come.

“Great Imolekites,” continued Giringori, “we bless the name of our King. Repeat after me this afternoon. He is our saviour…”

“SAVIOUR!!!” the Imolekites chanted.

“…he can move the mountains…”

“MOUNTAINS!!!”

“…Roe Chazz is mighty to save…”

“MIGHTY!!!”

“He wants to give each of you a statue.”

“STATUE!!!”

“This is why we must support InLaw Luther Roach, to accede to the throne after King Roe Chazz.”

“SHABALISTIKKKKK!!!”

The Imolekites were cuppified, for behold, they were charged up.

Just then, news came to the people that Lar Yi, Gambrach’s councillor for propaganda, was speaking about the continued remand of the cleric Zacchaeus El-Zak, in spite of the repeated order of the Magistratum that he be freed.

“Look, tis the truth I speak,” began Lar Yi to a room full of raised eyebrows, “tis not exactly like the King flouteth the rulings of the judiciary, not quite. For he is a good and integritous King. So much so that he spareth no expense in fattening up Zacchaeus in the royal dungeons. Behold, tis with three and a half million shekels with which he is fed monthly! Swearrghad, mehn!”

That was it. The people had had enough. It was not only within the Imolekites that there was a frenzy. In all of the Kingdom, there was not a gaddem speck of chill left!

 

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.

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!

 

ChillAtLast.jpeg

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.

Chronicles of Chill: Lord of the Dance

dancer1.jpg

As the frenzy of the disbursement of the criminally delayed wages departed the people of Oshunlonica, Shiwajun motioned to a man standing in the shadows. It was the King Ogbenyssius’s head squire, a man named Ayatollah Boyegus.

Shiwajun raised Ayatollah’s hand and presented him to the people saying, “Oshunlonican Apicureans, behold thy incoming King, in whom I am well pleased. Babasopecus…”

“Oparithicus!!!!!” the people responded.

In Bedrock, Gambrach could not believe what his good ear was hearing. At first he thought it was the Many Years Disease, but Lady Kem Shun repeated herself.

“Nah, fam. Y’get me yeah? Is not like I was faking scripts and tings right, but I was fresh off the ships from Jandinia, innit? And mandems was like, yo, IJGB, is you even finking about doing the Nonsensical Youth Suffering & Conscription tings? Whaagwan widdat?You is foreign! And you is like a old birdie now. And I was like, yo mama’s an old birdie. And he was like, nah, calm down me sweets, just slip me a lil something for the blaadclat red tapers and we’ll sort you an exemption thingy-bobbie. So, I was like, phew, yeah, no worries mate, but what’s your name anyway? And he told me, yeah, chill bladd; the name is Associates. Trusted Associates. And I was like rrrrespect, peace, Mr Associates.”

Gambrach sighed. Lady Kem Shun had to depart Bedrock for good.

“Farewell, Lady Kem Shun. Thou hast served thy King well.”

“Cool runnings, bruh.” And with that, she was gone.

The people heard of her misadventure and thought The Everly Failing at Convictions Commission would swoop in. But she was granted safe passage back to Jandinia. And unchill began to rumble again.

Back in Shiwajun smiled and said to Ogbenyssius, “it is done. Ayatollah, what colour will you change the drapes in the throne room?”

Ogbenyssius coughed nervously. “What shall we do about the Padipalians and the Serendipities?”

Ogbenyssius was right to be worried. The Serendipities had chosen Yola Mish as their electoralis champion. He had previously been a senateen for the Oshunlonicans in Boo Jar and was a man of fearsome political consequence, managing to triumph at electoralis whilst he was banished in the dungeons.

The Padipalians were represented by Ser Lemoda of the famed Keleda family of Oshunlonica. It was a family of bards and industrialists. Bards like SolomonO, Bread and Rambo Pacino. SolomonO, a nephew to Lemoda, was of greater renown than Bread and Rambo – Lemoda’s sons – and had purposed in his heart to take time of the mandatory Nonsensical Youth Suffering & Conscription programme and lend his acclaim to his uncle’s cause.

And lo, his uncle was not a man that was lacking in fame either. For beyond wealth, beyond his time as a senateen, Lemoda was a famed dancer. He was known as the Lord of the Dance, and twas him the ancient muses sang in the prophetic melody –

Dance, Dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the Dance says he

And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be 

And I’ll lead you all in the dance said he!

Yea, would he lead his people in dance and from dance would he arise to lead his people.

Ayatollah and Shiwajun were wary that his dance would trump their nothing, wherefore they raised a cry to the magistrates that Lemoda, like their King Gambrach, was not possessed of the scroll de minimis of learning. Wherefore it was ordered that the scrolls be produced lest Lemoda forfeit his ambitions.

Behold, when Lemoda delivered the scroll unto the magistrates, it was discovered that all his time in the junior citadels had been a severe waste. Wherefore his nephew SolomonO, in defiance, belted out the words of his famous composition, Darmi Doo Roe.

Err Mah Darmi Doo Roe

Amy Omor Baba’olodo

Why not let us mu’jo

E-joe uncle daddy Rambo

And the Oshunlonicans came out in great number to shake their booties for him. And Lemoda the Lord of the Dance led them in joyous gyration into electoralis. And as the tally came in, it appeared the spirit of Babasopecus had deserted the Oshunlonicans, for the Lord of the Dance was ahead of Ayatollah.

Gambrach heard the news from Boo Jar and sent for Shiwajun. “What exactly is thy use to me, Shiwajun. Thou couldst not Wahala Morghulis Abushola – in fact, he smirketh and mocketh thee in Oshunlonica as we speak.. Thou couldst not reconcile our warring factions. And now, thou disposesseth Apicuria of Oshunlonica, which is rumoured to be thy true actual Kingdom? Of what use is a Shiwajun that is not at the wajun of anything?”

“Fear not, my King. I shall return and inconclusivise affairs, that we may regroup.”

“Very well”, replied Gambrach, “but before thou leavest, read with me this parchment which I have received from the knights of the round table of Kwee Lox, on behalf of their brother Ambsalom.”

“Burn it.” retorted Shiwajun, cold as Lagoonian steel.

Thus the people, ready to burst into the greatest dance the world had ever seen, received the news of electoralis inconclusivus, for Lemoda has not sufficiently trounced Ayatollah.

“Fear not, my good people”, Lemoda said to the assembled throng, “go ye now and rest your weary legs. Come back refreshed that Ayatollah mayest receive an almighty funk-up the likes of which no eyes have seen and no scribes may describe. Stay funky, my people!”

Wherefore SolomonO passed gourds of drink around to the people, to refresh themselves before going home. “What is this drink, so divine?” the people asked. “Mixed Mossa”, responded SolomonO.

And as the people dispersed, news began to filter in that Hadi Potter had returned from his quest to establish the Winged Royal Fleet, which he had provisionally dubbed ‘Hot Air’. But he was conspicuously empty-handed.

“Hadi Potter! Whither thy magic? Whither the remainder of our Royal Fleet? Whither the gaddem one and a half billion shekels given to thee to purchase the missing magic?”

Hadi was bloodied and breathless. “It’s all gone! The dementors… the dementors of Jazz Kaban. They waylaid me! They took it all!”

Brethren, the people of the land heard it and they were incensed in their unchill. Behold, there was nary a gaddam speck of chill left in the land!”