Chronicles of Chill: Constipatio de Abushola


As Dinobetes Mellitus performed his Affirmatio et Defecato, he kept looking back. Wherefore, the Padipalian buttocks wiper inquired of him, “why dost thou keep glancing pack at thy fecum? Does thou wish it to turn into a pillar of salt? For it does not seem so large to me.”

“Nay, Poopmeister, tis not so. I look back for my top dude, Abushola, Warden of senatii. For he promised me that we would defecate in tandem.” The other defecating nassholes also cast anxious looks back, wondering if Abushola betrayed them.

But Abushola was in Bedrock, summoned by Gambrach, the King, and Shomolek, the head of House Apicuria, to discuss the matter of his rumoured defecato.

“Abushola,” said Gambrach solemnly, “I just have one question for you. In the words of the great Russian philosopher Igwenitzof Tupacizinsky, ‘wos yor addenini?’ ”

“Come again, O king?” said Abushola, confused, as Shomolek handed him a goblet of wine. Abushola sipped.

“Are you going to perform the Affirmatio et Defecato and publicly shit on the Apicurean flag?” asked Shomolek directly.

“O King! O Big Head! But twas in this same House from which opprobrium was poured on me and I was dragged like a peasant before Conductivitis. I triumphed. Yet, the King’s closest allies continue to conspire to unleash Wahala Morghulis upon me. Wilt ye call it off?” Abushola sipped again and Shomolek smiled.

“But I know not of such Wahala Morghulis,” protested Gambrach. “Thy charge at Conductivitis is dead, and what is dead may never die.”

“Ah,” said Abushola, taking another sip from his goblet, “if the King offers me no protection, then surely His Highness understands that I must do what I must to protect myself.”

“As must we,” said Shomolek, chuckling, unable to control himself. Abushola rose to leave, looking at Shomolek suspiciously. His stomach also felt a little funny.

Watching Abushola leave Bedrock, Shomolek smiled smugly, saying to Gambrach, “I have taken care of it, my King. Abushola surely shitteth not! I mixed the contents of this vial with his wine, procured from the best apothecary in the Kingdom.”

“Really? What is the substance called?” asked Gambrach

“Low Motille Elephantine. They use it in the circus to treat incontinent elephants. Behold I have locked his shit up. Tis frozen. And only an act of true love can thaw a frozen rectum.”

In Twillistia, the people were agog with news of Abushola’s impending defecation. The Padipalian Poopmeister was seen laying the Apicurean flag in Social Mediana Sqaure, with his buttock wiping cloth at the ready. But there was no sign of Abushola.

By now, Dinobetes and the rest of the Defecato Squad had caught up with Abushola in his chambers. King Tambourine of Ko Tow was also in their midst.

“Great Warden, art thou now ready to perform the Affirmatio et Defecato?” asked Mellitus. We are legion that followed you into the Apicurean herd and we earnestly await your return to Padipalia.

“The spirit is willing” confirmed Abushola, sweating profusely, “but the rectum is weak! I suspect Shomolek has poisoned me with a costive medicine. Behold, my bowels are clogged.”

“All is lost!” exclaimed Dinobetes.

“No, tis not.” replied Abushola.

“But how shall we do it?” asked Dinobetes.

“Alimentary, my dear Watson Mellitus. We shall pray and invoke the presence of St. Gastro of Laxatavia, the patron saint of Defecato. In the meantime, King Tambourine must now perform his Defecato, for the people are gathered and expectant of infragrance.”

Wherefore King Tambourine went into Twillistia and chanted the Affirmatio –

“I renounce Apicuria and rededicate myself to Padipalia; I affirm my faith in self-aggrandisement and my commitment to poor, nay, zero governance. Politicking above all, world without end. Amen. Behold I defecate!”

King Tambourine removed his garments, performed the Defecato and was received by the Poopmeister. Another of the Abusholan acolytes also performed the rituals. His name was Bellagio of Las Vegas and, until his defecation, he was the scribe of the Apicurean House.

In the chambers, Dinobetes and the Defecato Squad were deep in fervent prayer –  fecum come, fecum come, fecum come – they chanted over and over again. Abushola doubled over in agony and let out a fart. Dinobetes gagged but continued, resolute in his faith. Ye gods of lavatoria, visit us we pray. Lavatoria in excelsis!

Finally, a word of prophecy came unto the gathering – Abushola’s rectum had been frozen and only an act of true love could thaw it. Dinobetes knew what had to be done and he knew that only he could do it. Turning to the Defecato Squad of Nassholes, he said, “Brethren, go ye and wait for us on the other side. Tell the people to rejoice for the Defecato of Abushola is, uhm, at hand!” And they were left alone.

Outside, the rumble of anticipation grew. Finally, Dinobetes ran out declaring, “Padipalians, tis time to welcome Abushola home.”

Abushola staggered out, still doubled over, groaning out the words of the Affirmatio. He then disrobed and let out a wild cry as he loudly performed the Defacto. The Poopmeister smiled, wiping his posterior vigorously. Lo, Abushola had defecated.

Behold, the stench of defecation filled the land. Yea, was it so heavy that the people could hear the smell, even Gambrach with his  Many Years Disease. “Screw this, I’m off to Jandinia!” said Gambrach, covering his nose and ears. “Oshinoshin, handle this shit!”

Yea, the people say Gambrach’s winged chariot take flight and head for Jandinia. And there was not a gaddem speck of chill in all the gaddem land.



Chronicles of Chill: Hadi Potter & the Wings of Nostalgia


In the days following the Apicurian victory in Ekitilopia, the magistratum ordered the bailment of Darth Soukey from the dungeons of Gambrach, for the sixth time. A sixth time, Gambrach and his council unlooked. Behold, their necks were severely stiffened from all the unlooking going on, and the councillors knew not where to look any longer.

The people heard of the unlookment from Bedrock and once again raised their voices in protest. The councillors, weary of the savagery of the people decided to draw lots to determine which of them would respond. Yea, the shortest straw was drawn by Bar Kar, Gambrach’s Head Pharisee, wearer of silken robes of wisdom.

“Friends, citizens, people of the Kingdom! Lend me thy ears. I come to bury Darth Soukey, not to praise him. For he is a prisoner of despicability.”

“Thou art a man of learning in the law, are ye not? Is it not our law that only the magistratum may condemn a man and that the orders from the magistratic bench must be obeyed by all, even the King?”, the leader of the protest asked.

“Aye. Tis in fact the law. But did ye not know, that according to the latin maxim, espouso de my bumbum, the King is in fact empowered to disobey any gaddem order he dislikes?”

“You lie, Bar Kar! There is no such latin maxim.”

“Oh, but there is! The first maxim of inequity. The full saying is espouso de my bumbum rex fit injuria iyalaya anybody.

And the people were incensed. Seeing the rising anger in the kingdom, another of Gambrach’s councillors rose to the occasion. His name was Hadi Potter and he was Gambrach’s councillor for winged chariots. Hadi Potter himself was a winged chariotsman, undergoing his training at the Nogwarts School of Futuristic Flight.

“Majesty, what will surely distil these flared tempers is the rejuvenation of the Royal Winged Fleet!”

“What? Again?” asked Gambrach. “The graveyard runneth over with the corpses of the winged chariot fleets of past quadrannia. The crater left by the huge, repeated expense remaineth in the vaults of the Iron Bank of Boo Jar till this day! Surely, affliction shall not rise an eleventh time?!?!”

“Wot is you talkin’bout, Hadi Potter? Dis ting finna cost a big sum of blaadclat coin which we afi budget for, innit though?” Hadi Potter ignored Lady KemShun.

“Aye, Sire. But verily I say unto thee that it shall be different this time.”

“How so? The people will ask and if we unlook one more gaddem thing in this Kingdom,  I will need a brace like Yode of Ekitilopia!”

“Sire,” said Hadi Potter, “this time around we have thee and thy glorious leadership.” Gambrach looked around to see if everyone else was as bored as he was, but Hadi Potter quickly continued.

“We also have a little something I’ve kept up my sleeve until now.” Lo, Hadi stuck his hand up his sleeve and produced a short wooden stick. “You literally had something up your sleeve”, remarked Oshinoshin. “Marvellous!”

“And what wilt thou do with a stick?” asked Gambrach. Hadi Potter smiled, for what many did not know was that the Nogwarts School of Futuristic Flight was also a school of wizardry. It had been a leading school until a recent downturn in the Kingdom, forcing many of the instructors to relocate to Canardiana with their families. However, his stick was not a mere stick – it was a wand.

Waving the wand over his head, Hadi Potter shouted, “Accio insignia!” and a floating streamer of green and white stripes floated into the room. “Behold, the new sigil!” said Hadi Potter.

FemCallamitus was scared shitless and ran for cover under Gambrach’s throne.

Nyem appelatio!” he yelled, and letters materialised from the ground, forming the words ‘Hot Air’. Shimolek, the new Head of the Apicureans tried to inhale the words, but Hadi Potter restrained him, saying “Behold thy official name!”

Waving the wand a third time, Hadi Potter cried, “Wingardium chariotis leviosa!!!” and with a loud whoosh, wireframes of winged chariots appeared in the King’s court.

The Kings courtiers looked to Hadi Potter for what was to come next but Hadi Potter had collapsed. He was sweating and breathless, and his magic was spent.

“Why start thou something which thou canst not finish?” asked Gambrach angrily. “This is but a twentieth of what is required. What shall we do with a mere 5%?”

Panting heavily, Hadi Potter replied, “Forgive me, my King. I underestimated the effort required to start a fleet. With thy permission, I shall journey to the Jandinian village of Farn Brozos – for powerful sorcerers reside there; and they can conjure the remaining 97%.”

“Thy arithmetic is suspect,” said FemCallamitus, finally recomposed.

“As is thy memory,” responded Hadi Potter with a warning glare.

“Very well,” said Gambrach to Potter, “Go ye to Farn Brozos, take the Code of Esther with you. And godspeed!”

But the people had heard word of the conjurings in Bedrock and they saw Hadi Potter depart for Farn Brozos and there was not a gaddem atom of chill in the Kingdom.

Meanwhile, rumours swirled of defecations, re-defecations and de-defections between Apicuria and Padipalia. Electoralis was truly at hand…




The Chronicles of Chill: The Ekitilopian Second 2nd Coming


Thus it was, that seven days and seven nights passed but not a word did Lady KemShun say about her certificato de nyansch. Yea, did Bedrock not utter a gaddem either – not Gar Bar, not FemCallamitus, not Barshally, not Lay-Si. To the people of the Kingdom, twas as if all in Bedrock had been infected by King Gambrach’s Many Years Disease.

Within the walls of Bedrock, many machinations were afoot. The King had summoned his Senior Prefect of Nyansch, a man of Gunn named Rubin Kazan, to see whether or not Lady KemShun could be delivered from the accusations of Oluwollic Torontonianism.

“Rubin, my senior prefect, is there a way for Lady KemShun to be saved?”

“Yeah, Rubin blaad, you gonna save me or wot, fam?”

“Tis a delicate matter, my king. The Social Medianites and Digital Perusites are not easily deceived. And thou knowest, o King, even though Ser Balavida of the kwarapta intrusivo yet walketh free, that the legend of thy aversion to evil persisteth. Nothing must lift the scales from the peoples eyes, for electoralis cometh.”

“Hmmm”, thought Gambrach, very Chinese-Movie-Bossically, “then we shall respond with the famous Robust Answer of Great Silence, which cometh only unto men as me with levels upon levels of grace.”

“Yeahhhhbwoi!!! I mean, King! Wakanda forever, blud!” exclaimed Lady KemShun happily.

“Besides,” said Gambrach, “there is the more pressing matter of the throne of Ekitilopia to contend with.”

Behold, brethren, the Book of the Chronicles cometh full circle. For twas only a quadrannium ago that the Tword was first received of Yode of Padipalia and Jekfa of Apicuria, in electoralis for the kingship of Ekitilopia. Yea, a quadrannium passed and like tis family said by the Gaul people, “Plus ca chenji, plus c’est le same gaddem thing!!!” For as it was in the past, twas yet another contention between Yode and Jekfa. Well, perhaps not Yode personally but Nondes Cript, the Hand of Yode, by whom Yode wished to be succeeded.

Nondes Cript said nought, went nowhere and only laid a tepid claim to the throne. It might have been Nondes’s hand in electoralis but it was unmistakably the very loud voice of Yode that was heard by all.

Lo, did Yode deploy every move in his arsenal to frustrate the advance of Jekfa on the kingdom. However, he misunderestimated the full extent of the chenji that had taken place. For Yode at his own second coming, Jekfa was the incumbent who had not the backing of the King (Gejoshaphat); and now the tides had changed and twas Yode who no longer had the blessings of the King (Gambrach).

The Apicurians charged into the kingdom of Ekitilopia with legions of the men of the constabulary, withdrawn from their primary deployment of harassing innocent young citizens on the streets of Boo Jar and Gideria. And Yode, incensed at the occupation of the kingdom by the Apicurian forces, rose to meet them at the city gates in his chariot. Yea, while he was yet far off, an eager constable discharged a bottle of nightshade at him.

But this was no ordinary nightshade, nay. Twas Novichuk-grade nightshade, and instead of merely bringing upon him a temporary blindness, with only a mere whiff it broke Yode’s neck and radius at the same simultaneous gaddem time! Behold, it threw him into a momentary unconsciousness. You see, unlike his bodyguards, Yode was not trained in the art of breath-holding. They were saved, Yode was not.

And when he woke, broken-necked and crippled in the arm, discombobulated by the fierceness of the federal might he had come up against, Yode ran in tears into the village square in Social Mediana singing the dirge of the ancient bard Why Kleft –

“Enemies on the border line, who was the first to fire the nightshade by King Yode’s side?

You said it’s peace sir, but you didn’t want the peace sir, now I nearly rest in peace sir!”

Electoralis came ever closer and the people heard yet nought from Nondes Cript. “Say something we’re giving up on you“, they sang to him. And Padipalian men like the ancient Padipalian historian Rewajius foretold the imminent failure of Jekfa.

And on the day of electoralis, Yode sent emissaries into the kingdom with 35 hundred shekels for all that would cast a vote for Nondes Cript. The Apicurians heard it and laughed, for their emissaries were armed with 50 hundred shekels. The votes were counted and yea, twas Jekfa that was declared King-In-Waiting. Nondes Cript looked up momentarily from the scroll he was reading, shrugged and put his head back down.

But Yode was bitter. And he asked the people of Ekitilopia, “Why have ye rejected me? Did I not sit with thee in thy filth and penury? Did I not eat thy swill with thee? Did I not go on strike with thee when I owed thee thy wages?”

And the people said unto him, “Know ye not that it is written, ‘not everyone that pretendeth to be our guy will inherit the Kingdom?”

In Social Mediana, the people looked at the Apicurians and wondered about electoralis federalis, only a few months away. There was despair at the thought that Gambrach might not be so easily dislodged. How shall we survive another quadrannium of this, they asked themselves.

The Everly Failing at Convictions Commission heard the news of Yode’s imminent shedding of the royal tunic, licked its chomps at the prospect of finally being able to bring Yode before the magistratum. “Send Yode a Raven,” said Mar Goo, “tell him his hour of reckoning cometh.”

But the Everly scribe was giddy at the thought of everly not failing again at convicting Yode and decided to fly a winged-chariot over Twilistia square with a glorious banner attached, saying “Thy files be dusted that thine ass be busted, Yode. Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin, nuccuh!”

And all the people saw it and there was no gaddem chill in the entire kingdom.

Chronicles of Chill: Certificato de Nyansch


Brethren, there was a consummate unchill upon the land. The scourge of the Yetis of Gawd continued unabated and the people of the kingdom looked unto Gambrach to deliver them from the pestilence. And in the midst of the anguish and gnashing of teeth, FemCallamitus, scribe of Gambrach and member of the King’s spinning quills went unto the people in Social Mediana to give them a message from the abundance of his heart.


“People of Middle Earth, why clingest thou so desperately unto thine ancestral inheritance of land even unto death? Wouldst it not be better to yield unto them and preserve thy lives? For it is written in the holiest scriptures, ‘what shall it profit a man to defend his ancestral bequeathment only to become an ancestor himself?’”


Yea, were the people utterly pissed at FemCallamitus and responded to him with severe vituperations.


Lo the Padipalians declared a week of mourning for the many dead but FemCallamitus was again provoked to fecal regurgitation. “Why declarest thou a mourning when only twenty score people have been killed by the Yetis of Gawd in the quadrannium of Gambrach? Know ye not that twenty-two score died by their hand during Gejoshaphat’s reign? Dost this not shew that ye dwell in greater safety under the beneficent most magnificent reign of King Gambrach?”


Behold the people rained curses on FemCallamitus for his utterance, hurling all manner of invectives at his physical and spiritual personage. So ferocious was the response in Social Mediana that it came unto Callamitusina, daughter of FemCallamitus and behold she wept for her father.


And lo it was in that day that the travails of Abushola at Conductivitis came to a close. For he had appealed to the Magistratum Supremex and the Lord Judex had declared him justified. Wherefore he came unto the Social Medianites and Digital Perusites with songs of praise, saying “First of, frock your clique and the morghulis ye claim, North-West side when we ride come equipped with game. Thou sayest thou wert a slayer but I trumped thy strife and I bust on Shiwajun, niccuh’s frocked for life!”


And lo, did Dinobetes join in the exulation with the song of the ancient bard Mikhail Bubblius, “Let me go hoooooooome, Apicuria sucks, Padipalia rocks, I wanna go home.”


Behold the songs of Abushola and Dinobetes were back to back hits. Gambrach thus feared that he would not be able to come to mainland Perusia, wherefore he issued a proclamation unto the people saying, “Wallahi Abushola is a great, fantastic guy! Tis not just I who say so, but the hallowed Magistratum Supremex. Ye knowest that I be the firmest believer in the sanctity of the Magistratum Supremex, even though I heed not their orders and they denied me justice when Shegolas and Yaraz and Gejoshaphat cheated me in electoralis, those bastards! But Abushola is justified and thus I declare that all should be like him.”


The people refused to be mocked and sent word back to the King that he deceiveth them not.


And of deceit, news came again to the people, brought by the news bearers of the Deluxe Timeses newsbringers. Yea, it was news of Lady KemShun, Purser and Gambrach’s councillor for the Coin. Yea, was it levelled against her that her Certificato of Nyansch was oluwollically torontonian and not of authentic dispensation. On hearing the news, Gambrach summoned Lady KemShun to Bedrock to ask if it was true.


“Lady KemShun, what is this I hear? Thou art not properly possessed of a Nyansch certificato?”

“Whaagwan, my King. Nah, mate, it ain’t like that bruv. Haters be telling lies and ting again, ya nuh.”


“But didst thou do the Nyansch?” asked Gambrach.


“Fam, my Nyansch be intact, man. Look, what it is yeah, is when I dropped into these ends from Jandinia with all the econominix vibes in my medulla oblongata, I was like, mans is too hot to be slumming wiv skreps on the camp tip, so I asked my homeboy Sia if he could swing down from the chandeliers and hook up da gyalsdem wiv rijinal papers, innit? And Sia was like, ‘yo babe, I gat you’ and he called in the Nyansch 5-0 and they sorted me out. I’m pristine, bredren!”




“No need to be hmmm-ing king. I’s just trying to be like you – Magnificato sans Certificato!”




“Boom, selecta! Leave it, y’get me, yeah?”


But the people heard the news of the Deluxe Timeses and the unchill boiled over a little more. Behold, Darth Soukey was ordered released by the Magistratum but the kingsmen of Gambrach obeyed them not. Shimolek succeded Ye-Gun as paterfamilias of Apicuria, after much internal fisticuffs and affray. The refrain from the people of Pottyscum came yet again in Social Mediana – that men are scum.


And there was no gaddem chill in the land.


Chronicles of Chill: The Day of Bar-Charr Mortis


A deep sleep had descended upon the chronicler. Yea, it was the work of detractors that wished not the times to be recorded, of austerity. And for a season, the chronicler snoozed and heard not the voice of the Tword. Until, one morning, there was the sound of memorial rejoicing in the air which jolted him out of his reverie. It was a loud cacophony of revelers picnicking on the lane of memory, recalling the transition into inglory of Bar-Charr, the worst of the kings of the men of Gunn.

Bar-Charr was the head of the mutineers, the silent listener to every conversation, the unseen guest at every meal, a pestilence that flew by day, night and whatever was between. He was also bosom friend to Gambrach and to this we shall return. For behold, the people rejoiced as well at Gambrach’s beatification of Mor-Shoode. Cue our Nollywoodinian back-flashing…

Mor-Shoode was a man of immense wealth and the fore-runner in the first electoralis federalis following Gambrach’s mutiny as a man of Gunn in his previous reign. Gambrach was ousted by Gi-Dah in bloodless mutiny (twas even said that twas Darth Soukey that delivered the deathblow to Gambrach’s reign), and twas Gi-Dah on the throne at the time of the Mor-Shoodian polls.

It was a dire time in the kingdom, with many tired of the life and all its palavers. Behold, was there no work, no light, no food, no houses. The little water the people got was filled with filth. The meagre earnings the people earned were quickly eaten by the demons of transport. The schools caused headaches, the infirmaries didn’t work. Behold the people were tired of life. And Mor-Shoode wanted to end this, as did Bar-Tof, the other contender for the throne. Times were tough but Tof knew he was tough too – lo, perhaps even tougher.

And as the results came in from electoralis, Gi-Dah walked about alone in the throne room, looking at the throne wistfully. He ran his finger along the golden arm rest preparing to bid it goodbye. Suddenly, smoke began to billow from under the throne and a genie appeared.

“I am the genie of the throne, here to grant you one wish, King Gi-Dah.”

“A genie?” asked Gi-Dah, incredulously. “How didst thou survive the spiritual cleansing of the palace? The most potent marabouts from Timbuktu were brought hither to perform the rites.”

“True, King Gi-Dah. Behold, I hid from them in the chambers of Bar-Charr. Yea, even the Timbuktunian demontors fear him. But now, thou must make thy wish. What is it thou desirest?”

“The throne!” replied Gi-Dah without hesitation. But the genie looked disappointed. “Why asketh thou an elemental to do what lyeth within thy grasp to do? Thou art King. A man of Gunn no less.”

Wherefore Gi-Dah was imbued with a new swag and immediately ordered that the announcement of the electoralis  results be halted. It was a moment of malady however, for when lucidity returned, Gi-Dah was heard mumbling to himself “Chaiiii, I don fokkup!!!”

And truly he had, for there was a monumental unleashing of unchill upon the entire gaddem kingdom. Every voice was raised against Gi-Dah in condemnation, including the voice of Gar-Knee, a fearless man of the legal persuasion.

Gi-Dah knew his number was up and thus ceded the throne to Listless Nekan. The less that is said about Listless, the better, as he was not bold enough to sit on the throne with more than one of his buttock cheeks at any point in time. The people begged Listless to be earnest in his reorganization of the Kingdom but it was to no avail. Bar-Charr seized his moment and pounced on the throne. From thence was there nary a speculum of gaddem chill in the Kingdom.

There was looting, pillaging and executions the likes of which the Kingdom had never seen. All walked in fear and trepidation under his eye. All apart from Mor-Shoode, who protested his stolen mandate all the way from Jandinia to Trumpstantinople. Bar-Charr had no time for dissent and quickly threw Mor-Shoode into the dungeons. Bar-Charr also imprisoned King Shegolas of Owurutas, and Shay Who the older brother of King Yaraz. He probably also threw the genie of the throne room into the dungeons for he was never seen nor heard from again.

Behold, even Bar-Charr commissioned an electoralis charade, ostensibly to hand over the throne from the people of Gunn to the ordinary people. And all the elders gathered unto themselves to contemplate accession to the throne.

“Under His Eye!” they declared, commencing the meeting. “Blessed be Bar-Charr forever!”

“Brethren, shall we contend with each other for the throne?” asked one.

“Oh thou poor joker,” one chided, “canst thou not see that we do not contend against flesh and blood but the ultimate principality and power? The ruler of darkness in the high places? Sho mo age e ni?”

“Many have perished under Bar-Charr’s reign for the mere suggestion that another should be king. What will then be the fate of those who make bold to reign in his stead?”

“Thou art right, brother. Let all of us go before him and beg him in his majestic wisdom to remain our King, Gunn or not.”

“It is settled.” And they departed.

But then came three queens from the far east who had seen Bar-Charr’s star and came to honour him bearing gifts of malus domestica. There was a malus domestica of gold, one of frankincense and one of myrrh. Bar-Charr did not know that it was forbidden to have a piece of each of the three gifts in his mouth at the same damn time and made the final mistake of his life, paying the ultimate price. The streets were filled with dancing and rejoicing and tears of joy – the day of Bar-Charr mortis. Whereafter, owing to the manner of his death, Bar-Charr become known in some parts of the kingdom as Apollonius.

Dool-Shalom was quickly chosen by the men of Gunn to be the new king but he was wary of the poisoned chalice of the throne and wanted to sit on it no longer than necessary. All hoped that he would free Mor-Shoode and declare him king. Yea, even emissaries from Trumpstantinople came visiting, led by Lady Shossana Beans and Mor-Shoode was brought unto them that they might see that he lived and breathed. But it quickly went awry, as Mor-Shoode took ill suddenly and none was able to revive him.

Here endeth the back-flashing of Nolly, save to say thatDool-Shalom ceded the throne to Shegolas after electoralis and the shadow of the Mor-Shoode hung over the Kings of the kingdom thereafter.

Back in Bedrock there was distress as the council of Gambrach sensed that retaining the throne in electoralis was going to be a tall order. Yea, was there a storming daniels of brains to see what could be done.

“Shall we get His Highness to do the Sharkew-Sharkew dance for the Social Medianites?” suggested FemCallamitus, “ye know how they love seeing their kings in dance.”

“Shall we find another Gejoshaphatian project to tie a ribbon to?” asked Gar Bar.

“Better yet, let us accuse Gejoshaphat of stealing all the golden utensils from Bedrock,” suggested Lar Yi.

“No, no, no.” replied Shiwajun, “all these leave the King’s flanks open to renewed Wahala Morghulis. The King must imbibe the spirit of the Prophet Pushertease and endrake his enemies into silence as it was done in the days of old. Let him canonise and beatify Mor-Shoode.”

“WHA???” shouted Gar Bar. “Never! The people will see it for the Greek gift that it is.”

“And what do you know about Greeks and Trojans?” asked Kyocera. “A Greek gift could either be hiding soldiers or serve as firewood for the winter. And ye all know that winter is coming…. It is done, O Shiwajun. The proclamation will go out this evening.”

“You mean the King has already agr…” started FemCallamitus, trailing off when he saw the scowl on the face of Kyocera.

Thus, was it proclaimed in Social Mediana, to the Digital Perusites, to the Amalakites and even the dogs and baboons in the kingdom that Mor-Shoode, Gar Knee and Gar Nah (who would have been the Hand of Mor-Shoode) were to receive the kingdom’s highest honours. It was the eve of one score years since the demise of Bar-Charr and maigheeeeurddd,  there was no gaddem chill in the land.

Chronicles of Chill: Jekunimous Iyanensis


The unchill in the land was a tempestuous one and it billowed and blew onto the doorstep of Dinobetes Mellitus. Dinobetes was a senateen of the Nassholes, from House Apicuria. Many are the enchronicled chronicles of Dinobetes but none contained such unchill was about to be unleashed.

Thus it was that as Dinobetes was at the Winged Chariot Depot of Boo-Jar, that he was accosted by the constabulary. “Halt! In the name of the law!” the leader of the constables commanded him. “Thou darest interfere with a maker of the law?” queried Dino, “one on His Majesty’s Service to Jandinia for a glorious frolicking?”

But the constables were determined and Dinobetes looked on in regret as his homies departed for the supreme faffing, for the spirit of estacode had descended upon them and they could not think straight.

Wherefore Dinobetes sent a message unto the Twilistines, saying “Behold, I am ensnared of the constabulary!!!” and whereof the Twilistines responded, “Aha! Now thou canst dance thy famous Jekunimous Iyanensis dance, that all might know that thou art not a mere bluffer.”

In this moment, we now deploy the Nollywoodinic tool of flashbacking, for a flashback is required to tell of the Jekunimous Iyanensis dance. When twas said that Dinobetes’ scrolls of learning were of foggy origins, Dinobetes chanted and danced the Jekunimous Iyanensis, warning any who stood in his way of certain doom and damnation. Lo, did he raise the banner again, when the king in his home kingdom of Kogitamia, King Yaya Bellows, began the process to remove Dinobetes from senatii. Yea, did Dinobetes chant King Bellows’ name in Jekunimous Iyanensian dance, brandishing his chest upon stick legs – for verily, Dinobetes skippeth leg day. Here endeth the flashbacking.

And thus it was that news reached the Twilistines that Dinobetes was being hauled to Kogitamia from Boo Jar in locks, stocks and chains. Luckily for Dinobetes, the feast of Beegue Braw Thurr was over, otherwise the Twilistians & Social Medianites would not have been apprised of his perils.

And as they traversed the bumpy pathways and byways towards Kogitamia, Dinobetes thought to himself, “These gaddem constables of the gaddem constabulary! Could they not make my arrest a bit more glamorous? Know they not that it was me that the upstart bard sang the melody ‘Dinobetes, Dinobetes, No faeces?’ the ode to my pimping swag? Anyways, I know Abushola my Lord Warden of senatii will come for me. Then they will know that I am not a man to be arrested without pomp and circumstance.”

The constables were making jokes and passing round a wineskin – drinking on duty, that was how useless they were. But Dinobetes was thirsty and decided he would not refuse a swig if he was offered. As the gourd came closer to Dinobetes, he saw what looked like a vial being emptied in it.

“YE SHALT NOT GETTETH ME!!!” This was the cry of Dinobetes as he got too his feet and jumped out of the constabulary chariot. What happened next would take a few hundred years to be explained by a young man of science named Isaac Newton, but suffice it to say the forces of the moving chariot and the stationery ground converged in the stick legs of Dinobetes and yea, because he skippeth leg day, the result was that he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Lo, did the constables carried him with haste to the infirmary, lest he perished in their hands and was beatified into St. Dinobetes of Melitus. And twas in the infirmary that Abushola finally came unto Dinobetes.

“My Lord Warden, thou comest to deliver me from the hands of my oppressor. Finally.”

“I come in solidarity, Dinobetes,” was the measured response from Abushola.

“Solidarity? But thou art not in chains!”

“Aye, but behold, I stand with thee!”

“Even unto Kogitamia?”

“Good man, is it not sufficient that I stand with thee right now in thine hour of tribulation?”

“Lord Warden, but I am thy dawg, gee. Thee have I stood with in everything. Give the word and let me be delivered unto thee!”

“Dinobetes, my good Man Friday,” replied Abushola with a smile, “forget thou not the words of the ancient prophet Kerni Rojaz, “Thou gotta know whenst to hold’em, know whenst to fold’em, know whenst to walk away, know whence to run!

“Lord Abushola…”

But Abushola cut him off. “Island in the stream, that is what thou art. This was also the word of the prophet. Tis not I, tis the ancient prophecy that must be fulfilled. Tarry awhile, for it is well with thee.” And he made to leave the infirmary.

“Lord Warden, wilt thou leave me at the mercy of King Yaya Bellows?”

“Dinobetes! Of course not! How could I leave thee defenceless? As we speak, I have summoned many of the youths of Kogitamia and they have come with their drums. Tonight has been declared the feast of Jekunimous Iyanensis. They will chant and dance in thine honour, that Bellows might see how popular you still are.”

Dinobetes was crestfallen and lo, did he lose all his chill. And far away in the kingdom of Dunamis, King El-Farquaad saw it all and rubbed his hands in glee. Who said Dr Shey Who of the senatii was untouchable?

But there was too much unchill in the land. The Yetis of Gawd continued to savage the Middle Earth kingdoms and their cries for help pierced the sleep of all. King Roe Chazz of Imolek had run out coin to build his greatest statue yet and levied an ad vlostaturem tax on all Imolekites. Nothing would get in the way of the statue. Osinoshin, the King’s hand, continued to come and go as he had previously done and yet again the people called him, Comer Comer Comer Come elyon.

The kingdoms were a gaddem mess and there was no gaddem chill anywhere.

Chronicles of Chill: The Curious Case of the Coin


And thus it was that Gambrach departed the Kingdom for Jandinia to attend Chorgasm, where once again the spirit of outspokenness came upon him, chasing away that spirit of hermitry that besieged him whenever he was in the Kingdom. Yea, he spake.

First of all, he spake to an assemblage of lovengers desirous of hearing him speak whilst wearing his famed robes of convalescence. And lo, he told them of the fecundity of the quagmire of the Gejoshaphatian quadrannium, of which all had heard ad nauseam. But he spake it again, for he had nary an other thing to say. “O Lovengers, the times of Gejoshaphat were terrible. Behold, there was plunder and pillage of the most amateurish sort. But yea, though we have successfully prosecuted no one, lo have I fixed it. And I deserve some accolades. Whorwhaa.”

Lo, they gave him some accolades.

And drunk on the lovengerous accolades, Gambrach stepped into the grand Chorgasm arena to speak with the other chorganisms who had come from afar. Wherefore they asked him again, at the end of the day’s proceedings, “O great Gambrach of 37 Kingdoms, wilt thou give us a parting word about thy kingdom? Canst we bring our merchandise to North Easteros? And why didst thou not sign Pax Freekanah?”

“You see, in the time of Gejoshaphat,” began Gambrach, to murmurs of Oh shit, not this shit gaddem parable again??? Fortunately, Gambrach was in the land of the meisters and his Many Years Disease ears had just been reset. He abridged his Gejoshaphatian lamentation.

“Okay, okay,” he said, “let me move on to North Easteros. Even though the Haramites of Boko have attempted to capitalise on the technicality of our technical vanquishment of their forces, I can say without too much fear of a reprisal attack from them that North Easteros is somewhat, kind of, like, a bit okayish now. Feel free to bring thy merchandise. As for the other problems affecting the region, I canst not tell a lie, my kingdom brims with the indiscipline of procreation. Lazy people being fruitful and multiplying with reckless abandon. Are they Adam? Was it they who were given the charge? And because like me, many have not even their scroll de minimis, they think like me they are entitled to Kingly perks. Imagine!?!”

Imagine indeed, for the rant of Gambrach was heard on Social Mediana, in Twilistia and even the land of the Digital Perusites. And there was no gaddem chill – for Gambrach had branded them sloths. There was pandemonium as all disavowed the appellation.

FemCallamitus roared into action in defence of his liege, protesting, “People of the land, Gambrach demarketeth thee always when abroad for thine own good. Look at the lifestyles of decadence and seedless grapes they live in these countries – these will not aid us on our rice sufficiency odyssey. Think!”

But the people were not swayed. And there was more unchill to come. For the news bearers of the Sterling Times had brought news into the Kingdom, of Lady Kem Shun, Abushola and Ga Rah and monies spent, not included in the kingdom’s coinage. Lady Kem Shun heard the allegation and was furious. Yea, she went into Twilistia to address it.

“Whaah gwan bluds? What dis ting mans is hearing ‘bout extra-budgetary coins for the mandems of the senatii and junior senatii Nassholes? Dis is a wicked allegations of manifestations of appropriations and infestations inna de vibrations.”

Huh? The people paused, puzzled, for no one understood whether she denied it or not.

“Sterling Times issa wasteman paper. Dem nuh know nothing about the econominix. I is the queen of econominix, ya hear me now? Brrrr!”

Twas the most confusing of denials ever. And Abushola and Ga Rah said nought.

Then came yet more news of stupendous coinings, for Gambrach had taken a gazillion shekels from the Iron Bank of Boo Jar without the endorsement of the Nassholes. They were nassholes, true, but still, this was in egregious breach of the law of the land.

“Knowest thou not, that this is a dethronement-worthy offence?” the people cried unto Gambrach.

“For reals?” Gambrach asked in disbelief. “Dethronement? Even when millions came out to show the people of the south how famous I still am?”

“The law is the law, dude,” came the irreverent answer.

“What shall we tell the people?” asked a subdued Gambrach. “I took this coin not for myself but for the good of the kingdom. Twas to buy a supersonic megatronic spectroscopic flight of Torskanoe fantasy.”

“Yes, Majesty, but they are not due from Trumpstantinople for another two years!”

“For reals????” asked Gambrach.

“Yes, for reals! Shiiii, the coinage for the year is yet to be read even!”

“FOR REALS??? Why does no one tell me anything?” Gambrach asked, exasperated.

“Sire, shall we just tell them that you did not know?” suggested Gar Bar.

“Can’t we blame it on Gejoshaphat?” asked Gambrach.

“Come now, Sire…”

“Okay, okay, alright. Tell them yet again that I did not know.”

Yea, Gar Bar went into the land and told the people and there was a great eruption of laughter at the absurdity of it all. There no chill but there was laughter. And it was from that day that Gambrach was given a new regnal name. No longer would he merely be called Gambrach. He was now to be known as Gambrach Jon Snow.


Chronicles of Chill: The Prophecy of the Zanga


Following the day of Shiwajunfest, news reached the Chronicler that the Tword had found another soul worthy of the divine revelations of unchill. But it seemed this secret chronicler did not in fact know that he had been imbued of the Tword.

The secret chronicler received Tword of Asos, daughter of Gambrach, to whom her husband Noodlinho had now done what Dinobetes Mellitus had threatened to do to Remy Ma, wife of Shiwajun – behold, he had known her and she was with child. And thus was it chronicled by the secret chronicler –

“Only Noodlinho and his wife, Asos, know what it is about their union that drives them to perpetuate one of the most enviable and durable signs of love. They got married last year in a savor of celebritine ceremony. And to prove their commitment, abiding love for each other, and to increase the population of the Kingdom, Asos, we gathered is expecting Noodlinho’s baby. Casting a probing look at the ever reticent Asos when sighted at an event recently, it was glaring to all wandering eyes that she has been noticeably put on a 9-month maternal course by ‘Linho through a legitimate conjugal collaboration. Looking so robust and bigger than her pre-marital figure, the widely acknowledged self-disciplined lady was cynosure of all eyes as onlookers turned their attention on her and began to make some biological permutations.” [He has such a way with words, this secret chronicler.]

Thus was it said of the secret chronicler, “Blessed is he that chronicles without knowing that he chronicles, for out of his quill poureth pure bants.”

In the Crescent Lakes kingdom of King Yade-Ben, after much houdini and alapeanutbuttersandwiches, the time came for the Coinage of Telepathic Apparitional Manifestations (also known as the Coinage of Stalgmighty Stalctites) to be passed into law. The CrescentLakian senatii had read the increadible coinage of fantasy, knowing full well that to achieve this coinage of supremest deficit, Yade-Ben would have to be a miracle-working king of kings. Wherefore they renamed him Yezus.

Behold, as the hour of promulgation drew nigh, the king closed his eyes and raised his hand into the air. The CrescentLakian royal quill was handed to him, and a strong wind began to blow in the auditorium. “Brethren CrescentLakians, this arrogant coinage of hope is an ambiguous expression of your mood. It is historic and euphoric. It is a counterintuitive deficit to definitely fix it. Behold, I append my glorious seal of razzmatazz and bombastic opprobrium.”

A lightning bolt fell from the heavens and then there was calm. “It is done!” proclaimed the Chief Griot. “All hail the king!”

Yezus wept.

Lady Kem-Shun, Gambrach’s Councillor for the Coin, heard of the proceedings in Crescent Lakes and thought to examine the Kingdom’s vaults, to see how much remained. She drew her abacus and after a few beads, she was convinced something was amiss. “Whaaagwan inna dis place, mate? Hath Ser Magoo, head of the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission not brought forth all that he recovereth? Dis a wasteman ting!” But Magoo unlooked.

In Bedrock, Gambrach summoned his Spinning Quills, for he had an announcement of the utmost importance to make to them. “Scribes, I have decided that I will put myself forward in contention at electoralis federalis.”

“I KNEW IT!!!” whooped FemCallamitus, forgetting decorum. The other quills rolled their eyes.

“Sire,” said Gar Bar, with some caution, “but what about the 3 horsemen of the Kakocalypse – Shegolas, Gi Dah and Dan Jumanji have all turned against thee…”

“Aye. But there remaineth one horseman yet – Dool Shalom. He may yet be swayed. And if he be swayed, he may yet sway the other 3. And even if he not be swayed, I am Gambrach. I am King. I am 10 million underaged ballots in the gaddem bank, gaddemmit!”

“Hail our beloved King!” proclaimed Gyretta and Bee Ree.

“Good, good.” said Gambrach. “Now tell them to ready the winged Chariot.”

“Art thou going into the land to tell the people? Into South Easteros to win over the forlorn of the Ipobusinian mischief makers?” asked FemCallamitus.

“Geez, no way man! That’s what I have you guys for. Quillers should get to quilling. I’m off to Jandinia, biyotches!”

“But Majesty,” said Bee Ree, the Chorgasm meeting isn’t for another 10 days…”

Gambrach smiled and said, “Estacode, baby! And if I decide to make an early detour to see the meisters, obu gini any bagger’s consain? Peace out.”

And as Gambrach left in his winged chariot, a delirious spirit descended upon FemCallamitus and he entered into Social Mediania and began to prophesy –

“Behold the ancient words, ever true, written by the Prophet Terrgee, for me and you, deep down in the lungu of the Zanga. Take heed, any that would run against Gambrach in electoralis, can they run faster than the wind? Can they flow faster than a river? Can they rise higher than a mountain? Nay! Hear the words of the Prophet Terrgee yet again, ‘thou canst only run, run, run, run, past Gambrach G, if thou runnest mad!”

And the people heard it. And there was no gaddem chill in the kingdom.



Chronicles of Chill: The 3 Kings of Disorient


3 kings2.jpg

The day of Dan Jumanji was a day of sorrow and regret for the courtiers of Gambrach. “Mene mene tekel upharsin,” wept FemCallamitus.

“Oh, hush!” said Gyretta, as she sipped from her stein of sweet pal mectar. “Tis a time to do more than weeping and speaking in strange tongues,” she said with a strong look of disapproval.

“But I promised the wailer horde fresh Gambrachian wine in the fullness of time, gaddemit! Electoralis is less than 12 moons away. Behold, the fullness of time becometh the shortage and emptiness of time.”

“Our king is in need of redemption,” said Bee Ree.

“Blasphemy!” shouted FemCallamitus, angry. “Who wouldst dare to redeem our redeemer? Our most fragrant blessed Gambrach? Our most – “

“SHUT UP!!!” chorused Gar Bar, Bee Ree, Gyretta and Bashally. “The grown-ups are speaking.”

“Where shall we find this redemption?” Gar Bar asked Bee Ree.

“Have ye heard of the Three Kings of Disorient? No? Well, I shall send them a raven. Gar Bar, you just speak to Mefilius and make sure provision is made to give them a fitting reception and sending off *wink* for their visit.”

“Consider it done, m’lady,” replied Gar Bar.

The following day, Gambrach sat in the throne room, all depressed. Bee Ree was announced and entered into his presence. As ever, Moborius was seated in a corner, waiting with brush and canvas to record the moments for posterity. Gambrach was confused at her buoyant disposition, but he said nothing.

“Your majesty, I have a surprise for you!!! I present to you the 3 Kings of Disorient!”

The lights dimmed in the throne room, which pissed Moborious off, for he could not see what to paint. Suddenly a spotlight shone on the door and there was smoke and soft music playing. A deep voice proclaimed loudly, “Behold the 3 Kings of Disorient who have voyaged to see King Gambrach from the occident, for they have seen his star in the sky! Their names are Momma Loo Thurr, Cousin Loo Thurr and Nephew Loo Thurr. And the 3 kings began to sing.

We three kings of disorient are

Bearing gifts we traverse afar

Airports, traffic, roads and potholes

Following Gambrach’s star


O – o star of progress, star of praise

Star to end corruption’s days

Boko defeating

Gaffe repeating

Strict and Spartan in his ways


When their song ended, Momma Loo Thur embraced Gambrach, and handed him an enribboned scroll. Shittinski was alarmed at such close contact between unmarried adults and hurriedly left the throne room. Cousin Loo Thur just stood there like a statue and King Roe Chazz looked at her lustfully.

Nephew Loo Thurr then spoke. “We of the famous global Loo Thurr dynasty have viewed Gambrach from afar. Yea, his star doth shine brightly. The most famous of the Loo Thurrs, that is Remy, had a dream that everyone would be equal. And look how equality sweepeth across thy Kingdom. For this reason, for the very first time in Freekah, in the global world, we the Loo Thurrs hereby present him the Concocted Black Month of Black Excellence of Black Historical and Exceptional African Black Supersonic Leadership Award of Blackness 2018. Look, like it was said by the ancient Russian philosopher Igwenitzof Tupacizinsky, Gambrach deserves some accolades!”

“Accolades!” echoed Lady Bee Ree.

“Gambrach has paid his dues!” continued Nephew. “Paid in full!” responded Bee Ree.

Wherefore Moborious painted the moment in full and the Spinning Quills of Gambrach – Lar Yi, Bee Ree, Gar Bar, FemCallamitus, Bashally and Gyretta – louded it unto the ends of the Kingdom. And there was no gaddem chill in the land, for the people were confused. “And canst it be that Gambrach should gain an interest in Remy Loo Thurr’s fame?” they asked one another.

But then news came unto the Social Medianites from the chambers of the children of Remy Loo Thurr and his wife Scottetta that the 3 Kings of Disorient were not sent of them to confer any accolades on Gambrach. And lo, it was another own goal, wherefore Gambrach was known for a moment as Gambrach Escobar. Yea, had the real Loo Thurr’s VAR’d Gambrach and his quills, and even their most ardent fans were handfallen.

“What do we do now, great and wise king?” a forlorn Lar Yi enquired. “Shall I wax another improbable fable of mendacity?”

“No,” said Gambrach as he read a scroll that the raven master had just handed to him. The raven had come from Gideria. A smile played across Gambrach’s face.

“Ha ha!” he chuckled. “Tis the day of Shiwajunfest! Maigheeeurd, I’m going to get turnt again! Tell King Ambsalom of Gideria to block every gaddem road and close every gaddem port for I come thither! That will teach those Social Medianites of Gideria!”

Ambsalom hurriedly shut Gideria down. And in all the land, a single gaddem modicum of chill, nary a gaddem speculum even, could not be found.

There was no chill in the heart of the chronicler either, for the Tword was infused with the spirit of the Killmonger and demanded of the chronicler, “IS THIS YOUR CHRONICLE?????


Chronicles of Chill: The Day of Dan-Jumanji

Thus it was in the tenth month of the third year of the first quadrannium of the reign of Gambrach, that the spirit of the Tword descended upon Shay Who, a senateen of the the kingdom of Dunamis, that is the kingdom of King El-Farquaad. And as the Tword came upon Shay Who, he began to speak, “Behold, o ye people of the Kingdom, ye blessed people which suffereth under the pestilences of thy kings and princes, who eat the fat of the land and leave thee with the pickings. Lo, I am one of them. And I declare to ye this day, that we are paid 14 million shekels from the King’s coin every gaddem month!” And the spirit departed from him, and yea knew he not what he hath done.

The people heard it and were shook to their bones. 14 million shekels??? Wherefore the other senateens gathered themselves as unto a choir, and sang unto senateen Shay Who, the words of the bard Shamsudeen Smeeth, “You say we’re crazy, but you do not know what you have done, and if you’re feeling guilty, just know that you’re the only one!”

And as they sang the ditty, feeling pretty and witty, there was a man of Oyossinia named Veeque Thaw, who the song greatly troubled. He was troubled for he had just been dismissed from the employ of Shittinski, the shit councillor of Gambrach for matters of communications. Shittinski was also of Oyossinia and had made no secret of his desire to succeed King Jimobite once his reign was ended. It was a fate dreaded by all good people of Oyossinia.

Veeque had departed the service of Shittinski but had 14 million shekels outstanding in his pay. He then determined in his heart to write to Shittinksi. But it could not be an ordinary letter. It had to be a scrollage of pomp and circumstance and it had to be shewn to all in Social Mediana. He picked up his quill and parchment and wrote –

“Bitch better have my money! 14 million shekels! BOMBASTIC ENGLISH! BOMBASTIC GRAMMAR! FULLY BOMBASTIC GRAMMAR!!! Pay me what you owe me!!! BOMBASTIC ELEMENT! AMERICAN STINKING SHIT! Don’t act like you forgot! Balling buying cars and houses and chicks that aint your spouses! BOMBASTIC, BOMBASTIC, BOMBASTIIIIIIC!!!!!”

Yea, when Shittinski read the letter, he was offended right from his beard into his gloved hand. “This peasant thinketh he can take on a pharisee in the exchange of letters? He knoweth not what he hath started. IT. IS. ON!”

Wherefore Shittinski, who some of the people had fondly started referring to as Bullshittu, gathered his elite scribes and charged them to respond in kind to Veeque Thaw. Wherefore they replied, also into all of Social Mediana –


Yea, the people were amazed at the pedantry of the Bullshittinski clan.

In Gideria, the voice of the people had risen against King Ambsalom, the favoured of Shiwajun. Ambsalom had raised homage taxes in the state and his defenders did their feeble best to convince Giderians it was not to build the electoralis war chest of Shiwajun. And his counsellors came into his palace to let him know that the grumblings of the people were reaching a crescendo and something needed to be done.

“Are they not entertained by the antics of Dinobetes Mellitus,” asked Ambsalom. “Does his war of jestery with King Bellows in Kogitaria, not impalliate their angst?”

“No, O king of the hidden coinage,” they responded. “This is not Kogitaria. It takes more than Kingly and senteenly burlesque to assuage Giderian anger.”

“But I am on a most holy mission to clean up Gideria. Some have rightly called it a Holy Shiwajunihad. My vision is to clean up the many messes we have in this Kingdom.”

“That is a most excellent idea, Your Highness. We shall embark on a project to actualise your vision of scraping the filth off Gideria. Behold, the project shall be called visionscrapings. And the people will be most pleased.”

“Go ye then, and do as ye sayest.”

Thus, all over Gideria, the visionscrapings descended to scrape away the filth. Yea, they scraped and scraped and scraped but Gideria seemed more and more unscrapable. And the voice of Giderians grew louder in unchill.

And as the unchill brewed, news came from Trumpstantinople of the tribe of the Wentbridge Scatterlyticans, who had broken into the Book of Faces. The Scatterlyticans were almost as invasive as the Yetis of Gawd, and had been offered millions of Theresan shekels to break also into the secret library of Gambrach, to reveal the musings of Gambrach to the camp of Gejoshaphat during electoralis. But it was a gaddem waste of money, for Gejoshaphat was defeated, and also because the secret library of Gambrach was bare, for nothing was there.

Lo, as the invasiveness of the Yetis of Gawd persisted, the voice was heard all over Digital Perusia and Social Mediana of Dan Jumanji. Like Gambrach, Shegolas and Gi Dah, he was also a man of Gunn. Yea, like the Farhni Kaynic Illuminatics, he was the unseen hand behind the many quadrannia of the men of the Gunn when they took the throne. All the Kings of Gunn rolled the dice with Dan Jumanji.

And like Shay Who, the Tword also descended upon Dan Jumanji, making him break rank and speak unnatural words unto the people. “Brethren, the time cometh when ye all must pick up thy weapons to defend thyselves against the hordes of the Yetis of Gawd. For the King’s Armies are with them, not with thee!”

Wherefore, in unchill, a Twillistian, AndyRoid broke into ancient tongues, saying, “Entropy has eroded the equilibrium within the cassava solution via an excessive infusion of dihydrogen oxide.” Yea, water passeth garri.

And there was no gaddem chill in the entire gaddam land!