The Second Quadrannium of Gambrach: Big Trouble in Bigbumbumistan

BigTroublePlagIn the fifth month of the first year of the second quadrannium of Gambrach, Shiwajun had a dream. When he awoke, he could not remember the dream, yet it troubled him greatly. So, he sent for Shangolulu, King of Ekonnos, his current only begotten son in whom he was well pleased.

“Lulu, my boy-king. I had a dream that troubled me so but I remember it not. How can this be?” asked Shiwajun

“It must have been a dream about King Ambsalom, my predecessor. Remember ye not, O great Shiwajun, that he had the bodacity to challenge your parochial vision for Ekonnos? Or that he accused you of anointing a rehabilitee or the throne? Casting aspersions and bring opprobrium to your most sanctified name? I know, without doubt, that this is the cause of your consternation.”

“Surely, you must be right , my little one. I must bring a Wahala Morghulis upon Ambsalom for this Great Iniquity.”

Thus it was that Ambsalom found himself the subject of an investigation by the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission, who suddenly found all manner of unexplainable coin in his repository at the houses of usury. And Ambsalom was greatly troubled, forgetting even for many days to put on his waist trainer when departing his home.

And Shiwajun delighted in the troubles of Ambsalom, the castaway. So focused was he on the suffering of Ambsalom that he did not realise that another of his proteges, Lord Chickener, First Chancellor of the Royal Poll Tax, received a letter from Bakky Arri, Gambrach’s head honcho. It read –

Dear Lord Chickener,

Greetings in the name of our King, Master and Guiding Light, His Most Excellency King Gambrach. I write to you to demand, in the name of the King Most Holy, what the hell is going on with the Poll Tax collections mate!?!? This is the glorious era of the next level, man. You know this! So why, pray tell, are the collections moving in the reverse??? Gambrach can’t get jiggy with your delinquent collections. Fix up. You have the esteem of my assured regards, always. Your Boy, Bakky.

And the scroll of the letter was published unto the people in Social Mediana, yea into Twillistia, the Book of Faces and the Instagraph. And there was no gaddem chill because, for many years, the Spinning Quills of Gambrach had sung the praises of the several folded increase in poll tax collections under Gambrach.

And then there was more unchill, as news reached the people that the Magistracy of Electoralis (MoE) had overturned the election of Dinobetes Mellitus into the senatii and had ordered a fresh contest with his perennial adversary, Smarty Panties. Wherefore, as was customary with him, Dinobetes Mellitus broke out into chart-busting song from the ancient bard, Lady Diana of Rose, singing “I’m coming back! I want the world to know Smarty’s got no show!”

It was at or around this time that Gambrach decided that he had to do something he had never done before in his life – hold and chair a strategy session and engage in a semblance of deep intellectuality; he would go into conclave with the new members of Fecundia, so that he could steep them in the Fecundity he expected of them.

And the Lovengers greeted this with their customary shouts of praise. Nobody like Gambrach! Gambrach is unpresidented! Gambrach the all-seeing eye! Praise be!

But then, it came to the attention of the Social Medianites, that Gambrach had nominated fellow man of Gunn, Gashi Maga, indicted of pilfery since the time of Bar Charr the Appleonious, into his council in Fecundia. Yea, the people were completely incensed that such a black sheep could find its way into the sanctified Fecundia council of Gambrach.

But behold, as that unchill pervaded the land, news reached the people from Bigbumbumistan that the spirit of Zen O’Phobe, patriot saint of hayturrs, had descended upon the Bigbumbumistanis and the Jirrians in the land were under attack from them. Bigbumbumistani men were renowned for their lack of Game and they begrudged the Jirrians in their midst of their swag and pheromonous magnetism and bludgeoned and cudgelled them for it.

Lo, the people looked unto Bedrock in Boo Jar, hopeful that their King wouldest rise in holy and righteous anger and demand that King Drama Xhosa of Bigbumbumistan wouldst call his people to order. But help did not come quickly from Boo Jar and when it came, it came most tepidly.

The people thought that Gambrach heard them not, but their cry didst reach him in Bedrock.

“O King,” began Gar Bar, his chief scribe, “shall I invoke a most holy Gambrachian thunderstrike on Bigbumbumistan? Shall we evict their most senior emissary? What grand gesture shall we make?”

“We shall send them a warning – we shall send several placatory envoys, with the Code of Esther, to tell them that we are dissatisfied. I myself shall go and partake of the Code of Esther and abroadian hospitality.”

“But sire, the people demand strong decisive leadership. A show of force, perhaps.”

“But their army is superior to ours, and very rested, not contending like we are with the Haramites of Boko. Exactly how forceful can I be?” enquired Gambrach. “Like the ancient prophet Mikhail Jacksonovich said to Paulius Bi-Courtney – I am a lover, not a fighter. I love my sedentary life.”

“But sire…”

“You know what? Where’s the King’s Hand, Osinoshin? Send him to engage in some grammatical Too-Wrenchy in my name. That should do.”

But it did not do. And like, for reals, there was no gaddem chill in the land!

 

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The Second Quadrannium of Gambrach: Legislatum Encaptivo

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Nothing is as constant in the Kingdom of Jirria as the realignment of stars in political and stratospheric firmaments in the months before electoralis. Indeed, it was known unto the seafarers of the global world that Jirrian waters were to be avoided in those months, as relying on what they thought to be True North, which in fact had been True North only a few months before, had run many sailors aground.

In the realignment prior to the electoralis that heralded the second quadrannium of King Gambrach, Abushola, the erstwhile Warden of Senatii had defecated with glorious stink from House Apicuria to House Padipalia. Gah Rah, the Warden of Lower Senatii had also thus defecated. In fact, the defecations numbered over 60 and included notables like senateen Dinobetes Mellitus of Kogitamia. In a public ceremony, they all emptied their bowels over the Apicurean flag, denounced Gambrach and pledged fealty to Arty Cool (himself a famous defecator in electorales past) of House Padipalia.

It was hardly a surprise that Abushola realigned for electoralis. When Gambrach triumphed over Gejoshaphat and ascended the Iron Throne of Boo Jar, both he (that is, Gambrach) and Shiwajun had candidates they favoured to lead the Nassholes. But Gah Rah and Abushola imbued with the spirits of the gods of kicksport – Meh See, Ko Tcha and Nal Do – dribbled and gazumped them most thoroughly. Lo, in the words of the ancient Jirrian philosopher Bah Heeahbon, it was a scurrilous subterfuge of a scandalous and mendacious kungaga.

Gambrach and Shiwajun did not take it lightly. They promptly deployed the Everly Failing at Convictions Council to find Abushola’s wrongdoings and they charged him to Conductivitis, that he might be found guilty and stripped of high office. Shiwajun’s confidence in Conductivitis astounded the people of the land, for even he was a veteran of Conductivitian jousting, where he had escaped unscathed.  Like Shiwajun before him, Abushola also triumphed at Conductivitis; but he paid the ultimate price and was vanquished at electoralis.

When the second quadrannium began, Gambrach, Shiwajun and Shomolek (Headboy of House Apicuria) were keen that there would not be another gaou – for in the words of the ancient travelling troupe Magical Systems, “while the first gaou is excusable, the second gaou means you are a dunce!”

So they summoned the longstanding senateen, Ser Nah Wal, told him to kneel down and baptised him with a gourd of syconfancia. “Arise, O Warden!” Shomolek commanded. But Nah Wal was hesitant.

“You call me Warden, great Headboy, and if you say it then it must be so. But surely you know that Dan Jango, a longstanding Apicurian nasshole as I, also desires the Wardeny.”

“Leave the matter of Dan Jango with me,” said Shiwajun. “I know where he is currently hurting the most. He has a pimple on his forehead that I can pop for him.”

Thus it was that Ser Dan Jango, a notable friend and veritable guy of the bard Icy Duke of the City of Chalk Lit, was summoned into the presence of Shiwajun and Shomolek. There he was informed that Nah Wal and not he had been chosen to lead senatii into the new glorious age of rubberstampia.

Dan Jango was unsettled by the news and protested, saying, “But my lords, I beg thee to reconsider. I am as qualified as Nah Wal to lead senatii in perfunctoriness and I can wield the scepter of rubberstampia more fancifully than any in the land. My entire existence in senatii has been iconic rubberstampism!!!”

“Aye, we know this but remember that Abushola dribbled all of us in the past quadrannium, when it was first promised to Nah Wal. If you do Apicuria this favour, we shall summon Mar Goo the Unconfirmed and cause the Everly Failing at Convictions Council to fail once again on your account” answered Shiwajun.

“Ye wouldst do this for me?” asked Dan Jango in disbelief.

“A small price of 5 billion shekels forgotten between friends – good deal would you not say? Now say yes quickly, so I can return home to my baby girl” said Shomolek. And thus was it settled. Nah Wal was formally elected by his peers as Warden.

With the junior senateens, the favoured was also another longstanding nasshole named  Jaja-Beer Miller. Jaja-Beer was a very loyal Apicurean from Ekonnos who eschewed all forms of comingling with Padipalians. He indulged in comingling of another sort but lo, that story is for a different chapter of the chronicles. The detractors tried to raise the banner of his professional misdemeanours in the land of Trumpetistan against him, but the Apicurean broom of Gambrach that maketh the iniquitous white and blocketh out all cries of protesting hate and sorrow availed much for him. Thus, did Jaja-Beer Miller become Junior Warden of the Nassholes.

With the principalities and powers of the Nassholes in place, King Gambrach was ready to wrestle the flesh and blood that made up the citizenry of the Kingdom with the nomination of the members of his council. According to the law of the land, Gambrach was required to appoint a councilor from each of the 36 Kingdoms, to serve him in Fecundia and preside over the mismanagement of the administratories of the kingdom – plebeian education, highway smoothening, image laundry, plundering the petrolatum that fueled the wealth of the kingdom, ensuring the infirmaries remained unfit to care for the ruling elite and the constabulary unfit to patrol a chicken coop – each one a task of herculean proportions.

In his first quadrannium, Gambrach did not name his councilors until Trentus Septembus and when he did, it was filled with such administrative luminaries as King Monoraillus Incompletus of Rivissinia – the Councillor for Travel, leading astrologer and philosopher Bull Shittu the Councillor for Telepathic and Futuristic Communication, Ah-Woodoo the Councillor for Local Rice and Hatred of Imported Food, Bongo Naya the Councillor for Writing Materials, King Flasholas of Ekonnos who served as Councillor for Semi-Illumination, King Gigex of Kee-Jah the Councilor for Slavery, and so many more.

When the list of nominees for councilorship in the second quadrannium passed from Caballee and Caballum – the Deux Cabales – to Shomolek and Shiwajun, Shomolek was so overwhelmed, he unclasped his girdle.

“Wow! This list is dynamite, Shiwajun. It is even more glorious than the previous quadrannium. Will this prospect of overachievement not deter senatii from approving them?” he asked.

Shiwajun answered, “Fear not, Ser Shomolek. This second quadrannium of Gambrach is the age of legislatum encaptivo.”

Thus was the list of councillors-in-waiting broadcast to the Social Medianites, the Papyrus Medianites and yea, unto the Digital Perusites. All across Jirriah, the people beheld it. And there was no gaddem chill, nary an atom of it, in all the land.

 

 

The Chronicles of Chill: In the end, Oparithicus!

The End text

Thus it was that in the fourth year of what came to be known as the first quadrannium of Gambrach, that the Necomongers declared electoralis open, that the people of the 37 kingdoms mightest cast their ballots for the ruler of the Iron Throne of Boo Jar and the Nassholes of legislatum.

But that is not the point at which this twevelation begins. For on the eve of electoralis, the gates of the Shiwajunian Palace on Bob Dylan avenue swung wide to let in, past the teeming throng waiting for the beneficence of Shiwajun, two mega chariots – the sort of which cometh only from the Iron Bank of Boo Jar.

Yea was it broadcast to all on Social Mediana and there was no gaddem chill. For only weeks before, Shiwajun had been overheard assuring his acolytes that he was ready to push their ignition buttons with his vast and magnificently unexplainable wealth.

“Behold,” he said unto the them, “in Oshunlonica, they accused the Shiwajun of bragging like an old fart that he was richer than the entire kingdom of Oshunlonica! Imagine that, if you will, when all I said was, nuccuhs please, how much in cummulative superlatives is thine entire wealth that I would pilfer it? What is there to pillage in all of Oshunlonica, especially with a king as useless as Ogbenyssius who createth no transactions, fictitious or legitimate? Wherefore I say unto thee as thy Shiwajun, that I am at the wajun of activation. Go ye forth therefore unto the ends of the 37 kingdoms – and if ye deliver the kingdoms unto Gambrach, I will activate you so hard, Globercum would acquire thee.”

And when he said it, yea was there no gaddem chill in the land. But if the people felt unchilled at that outburst, they had no gaddem idea what was coming. For when he was asked about the coinage carriages , he retorted, “And so gaddem what? Are the chariots and carriages that enter my gates with thanksgiving and my courts with praise thy mother’s frocking business? Was it ye who hired my sentries for me? If I have mysterious coinage carriages come unto me most likely bearing electoralis-influencing coin or adding even more unto my vast, mysterious and unexplainable wealth, how is it thy gaddem mother’s frocking business? You are my beyotches and King Kong ain’t got shit on me! Oh and P.S., Sage AreWoeLawWar is the greatest.”

Behold, there was no gaddem chill in the land.

Thus did the people of the kingdoms venture out, as they did at the end of the reign of Gejoshaphat. In Twilistia, the outcry was against another quadrannium of Gambrach but the peoples of Kardashiana – the kingdoms of Dunamis, Seennar and Kar-Know – were known for their steadfastness for Gambrach and twas well expected that they wouldest again save the day.

What the people did not expect was the gambit which was to become known as the “Pressing of the Georgeynho”. The Pressing of the Georgeynho was a mystical configuration, known only to Manchurian Apricurians. It involved the unleashing of centurions, legionnaires and bandits to physically and metaphorically press the ballots. The Pressing of the Georgeynho kept some in their homes, dispersed others from the electoralis centres and – here’s the mystical part – sank some numbers and floated others.

Gambrach was so afeared of the Pressing of the Georgeynho reaching Lady Yeeshah that he cast a confirmatory look at her papyrus of electoralis before she cast it in the box.

Finally the Necomongers gathered all into the great hall of electoralis, that the ruler of the 37 Kingdoms for the coming quadrannium might be declared. Yea, were all assembled there from all across the kingdoms, and from Social Mediana and Twillistia. The Lovengers were there, as were the Padipalian nobles, like Dom Rewajius and Rain o’Mockery. And lo, was there a violently prodigious tagging of hashes, in anticipation of victory and defeat.

Yea, was the announcement the longest gaddem thing ever, because the Necomongers were not men of science, tallying with stones and marbles, instead of the great and glorious abacus of blocked chains.

The people heard first of Nassholes. Abushola, warden of senatii, would not return for he had been trumped in most Wahala Morghulisan fashion, and manic laughter was heard all the way from the Palace of Shiwajun. “You see?” said Shiwajun to Gambrach, “in the end, Wahala Morghulis.”

Jimobite of Oyossopotamia had also been trumped, as he sought to transmute from King to senateen. Don Parbio of Ibomitopia, who had defecated from Padipalia to Apicuria during the rash of the defecation of the Nassholes, would also not return to the chamber. But Dinobetes Mellitus, of the jekunimous iyanensis, had triumphed. And there was not a gaddem chill anywhere.

It was evident to all, before long, that Gambrach had trumped Arty Cool; that Caballee and Caballum had bested the Padipalians; that whatever had happened in the past quadrannium was a foretaste of the glorious age that was to come.

Wherefore, Gambrach was heard singing the ballad of his fellow man of Gunn, Ser Levi Embeats,

I am the (a), incred (a), incred (a)
Incredible General
Sensei ay shanall wah dem call me
Incred (a), incred (a), incredible Gene–
Select, selec-lect–

And Lady Kem Shun hollered back from Jandinia, “dat is a wicked, real, rudebwoi, bad man ting, ya nuh. King Gambrach fi me gimme me say two time!!!” Lo, in all the land was there no gaddem chill.

And then it all went dark and the vision was ended. And the Tword said unto the chronicler, “Once thou completeth the transcription of this chronicle, jettison the quill and the scroll, for thy work is done.”

“But why has thou shown me these mysteries, great Tword? What was the point?”

“The point, dear scribe, is as the bards Linkage Parkings wrote- ‘…in the end, it mattereth not’,  or as Shiwajun would say, “In the end, Oparithicus.”

 

 

 

There shall be a bound volume of the chronicles. Tarry awhile.

 

Chronicles of Chill: Debaticus, the ZekWaylian Race & Electoralian Chess

chess pieces on wooden chess board

The time drew nigh when the contenders for the Iron Throne of Boo Jar were scheduled to engage in debaticus. Many people feared, given King Gambrach’s less than favourable outing with Lady Destiny, that Caballee and Caballum would restrain his participation.

The fear seemed well-founded when Sagacious, Gambrach’s counsellor for Kwarapshan and a man formerly well-versed in the laws of the land, came unto the people to declare, “I see no merit in the King engaging in Debaticus with Lady Zekway, Ser Duroximus or Ser Moghallus. They are mere traveling minstrels of highfalutin motivationism. Tis true that Gambrach at his best couldst hardly motivate his own bowels. But still, this is kingship, not clergy.”

And a rumbling of unchill cascaded across the land.

But Lady Zekway, Moghallus and Duroximus, who the people had named Pax Collapsia, following their failed attempt at selecting a sole champion for the non-Apicurian/Padipalian contenders, were undeterred. For, as Duroximus liked to say, “The time has come to free the glum from oppression under the thumb of a king so numb to the humdrum of living in a slum!”

But the rumours persisted that Gambrach would decline to engage in debaticus and would send Osinoshin in his stead.

Arty Cool mounted his winged chariot and departed from Trumpstantinople with extreme rapidity, for he was also to engage with Gambrach and Pax Collapsia in debaticus. He arrived just in time at the Boniface Arena, where he saw the trio, but Gambrachwas nowhere to be found.

The Warden of the Boniface Arena summoned the contenders and told them that Gambrach had done them all amakalically and they would have to proceed without him. Lo, did Abushola, who went every where with Arty Cool, protest most mightily that, with respect to Pax Collapsia, cats and lions were both felines but that didn’t mean they were on the same rung in the food chain.

“Tis true,” agreed Arty Cool. “This is not the cup of FA or of Carabao. Behold, tis El Classico!” With that, he departed the arena. Behold, unchill percolated broadly all over the land.

At conductivitis, where Nono Gengen the Primus Magistratus was to be tried, a lawyerly host descended to wage war against Ghanyamustgo and his principals. The head of conductivitis never hesperredit as one barrage of ratio decidendi and stare decisis followed another.

Caballee and Caballum saw that their plans were in danger of being thwarted and summoned Gambrach to demand that Nono Gengen leave the office of Primus voluntarily,

“Nono Gengen, my Primus Magistratus?” asked Gambrach. “Thou wishest him to leave?”

“Yes! This was why we arranged for Ghanyamustgo to raise the petition against him and expedited his trial.”

“Ghanyamustgo, my squire? He’s involved? Nobody told me. And a trial? Who’s trying Nono Gengen? Since when? What is going on here?”

“Look, King“, sneered Caballum, “just do as we tell you as usual.”

“But if Nono Gengen leaves, we will have no Primus Magistratus. Osinoshin says we must always have a Primus. Filteration of Powers, or something, he calls it.”

The Deux Caballes grew weary and Bashally, one of the Gambrach’s spinning quills, seeing what was required, issued the demand in the name of the Iron Throne. “The Iron Throne demands that you relinquish the Primus Magistracy forthwith!”

Behold, the people heard it and the unchill began to slowly boil over.

And in that moment, news came unto the people that Lady Zekway had withdrawn from contention for the throne. “I run no more,” she declared to all in Social Mediana and Digital Perusia, “for tis my desire to raise a new Pax to contend against the ApicuroPalian Hegemony.”

Duroximus heard of it and declared, “I too wouldst resign if it became the design of the Pax Collapsian line that we build the spine of a new kingly vine and cause the ApicuroPalians to whine.”

But the Electoralian Umpires of the house of Jegatrix rejected the purported withdrawal of Lady Zekway, saying “The date for WITHDRAWAL has long since COME and GONE and tis no longer for any CONTENDER to undeclare. Thou REMAINETH in the RACE, Lady Zekway and we shall not countenance a ZEKWEXIT!”

Yea did the unchill grow worse, especially as the Apricornian House for which Lady Zekway contendeth, discarded her and Stannis Boyejius of Teckiana, one of her advisors, of a duplicity for which neither was known.

Lo, was there worse to come, for King Shegolas and Dan Jumanji, both men of Gunn themselves, sent a warning unto the people, as if received from the Tword its very self, that Gambrach did not intend for Electoralis to be fair or for their will to be upheld.

“The older men of Gunn turn against Gambrach,” said Caballee to Caballum, “and simply are not possessed of sufficient time for conductivitis, or indeed any of the laws of the land, to run its due course.”

“Osinoshin, is there an undue course that we can embark upon to hasten Nono Gengen’s departure, that we may foist a friendlier face upon the Primussy? Thou wert a meister of legalities, like Sagacious, wert thou not?” asked Caballum

“Well,” said Oshinoshin, “if I were neither a holy man nor a man interested in the sanctity of our laws, and I must stress that I am most legally divine, what I might do, though it would be to the chagrin of the entire civilised part of the world, I would simply replace Nono Gengen by fiat. This is against my nature however, and praise be that I wholly holy legit.”

Caballe winked at Bashally, who smiled and departed the chamber post-haste. “King Gambrach, thou hast some fiatting to do,” said Caballee. “I shall do as ye bid me”, submitted Gambrach.

Behold, news came unto Twillistia and the four corners of the kingdom that Gambrach had by unknown royal prerogative ousted Nono Gengen from the Primussy and appointed another in his place.

And there was not a gaddem speck of chill left.

 

The Chronicles of Chill: The Gambrachian Date with Destiny

There remained absolutely no chill in the land. How could there be, with electoralis ever closer at hand? The quills in bedrock grew edgier as they saw in the people an outpouring of emotion like they hadn’t seen since the last quadrannium. Only this time, it was not for Gambrach.

“If Gambrach triumpheth not at electoralis, we shall be forced to return to plebeian society,” they lamented. “How ignominous!”

“Canst Caballee and Caballum, the Deux Cabales, not save us from this imminent doom?”

So they trooped in to Caballum’s chambers and demanded his intervention, as chief string puller in the kingdom.

“Why fear ye?” Caballum asked, “if we lose at electoralis, we will remediate the anomaly at the magistratum.”

“Ah,” responded the quills, “but Nono Gengen is Primus Magistratus and twas not Gambrach that made him so. Dost thou not remember, Ser Caballum?”

Caballum did remember and agreed that the Primus Magistratus would need to be a friendly one. “Then we must remove Nono Gengen before electoralis. Get me Ghanyamust Go. Tell him to come and see me at once!”

Thus it was, that after the meeting of Caballum and Ghanyamust Go, a one-time squire to Gambrach, that a petition was sent to Conductivitis. Lo and behold, the very next day, Conductivitis brought a charge against Nono Gengen with such alacrity as had never been seen in the land. Not even when Macashma Gandy rose speedily to receive his booty.

Yea, was there no chill in the land and lo, did the unchill grow in severity.

“This is unprecedented!” the people cried. “Primus Magistratus? On the eve of electoralis? We see you, bruhhhh!”

But the Lovengers were greatly afflicted with Objectivitis. “Let’s consider this obvious miscarriage of justice objectively though,” they counselled. “If Nono Gengen hath no case to answer, why does it matter that Conductivitis did not bother with a thorough investigation? No one is above the law. Not even the Primus Magistratus.”

“Not even Balavida, of the Kwarapta Intrusivo grass, who has yet to be charged?” the others retorted.

“Look, we are being objective here,” responded the Lovengers. “And objectively, speaking the justice can be selectively applied, so long as tis our hero Gambrach and his stooges that do the selection of the justiced!”

And the unchill did not abate, only growing in swirling intensity.

We need to distract them, decided Caballee. We shall send Gambrach out stumping again, though his battery be not yet fully recharged. 

Thus it was that Gambrach went stumping in Deltonia, where he lost his footing figuratively and unfiguratively. For he slipped as he descended the stairs, momentarily breaking the malady of Syncope upon Dinobetes Mellitus, who saw it from afar in his sick-bed and laughed in derision. But he knew he could not yet afford to convalesce and prayed that Syncope render him infirm again. Syncope obliged.

Yea, the second slippage of Gambrach occurred as he addressed the Deltonian crowd that had gathered to hear him speak. Shomolek handed Gambrach the Apicurean banner to wave in anticipatory triumph. But it was heavy and Gambrach could not brandish it. Wherefore he declared to the people, “Behold, I now hastily hand over the banner to Substantial OG, our Apicurean contender for Kingship of the 37 Kingdoms! Yeahhhh!!!”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Shomolek reminded Gambrach that he was the contender for the Iron throne.

“Okay, I do it again,” said Gambrach, as his hand quivered under the weight of the banner. “Behold, I now very hastily hand over the banner to Substantial OG, our Apicurean contender for a seat at senatii! Yeahhhh!!!”

Shomolek quickly reminded Gambrach that Substantial was contending for the throne of the kingdom of Deltonia.

“JUST TAKE THE GADDEM BANNER BEFORE MY ARMS GIVE WAY!!!!” screamed Gambrach, unable to hold the banner any longer.

And there was yet unchill upon the land, as the people saw Gambrach in his full stature.

Caballee and Caballum asked the quills, “Hath Arty Cool not made any gaffes? Canst we not get the people to focus on him instead?”

“Well,” Lar Yi said, “tis well known that he is a fugitive in Trumpstantinople and his winged chariot is prohibited from Trumpstantine soil, as it was said of Shiwajun as well in the past. Shall we remind the people of the ancient saying that ‘A King cannot be King if he cannot place his feet on the golden soil.”

Lo, did they mock Arty Cool again, as they had for many years of his purported banishment. But news quickly came from Trumpstantinople that Arty Cool was visiting, accompanied by Abushola and Sita-Doka. Yea, was it said, that he lodged at the travellers’ lodge of King Trump himself!

And yea, was there no chill as the Coolates rejoiced and the Lovengers scoffed. Caballee and Caballum sought yet a further distraction. They agreed to send him, in the company of his Hand, Osinoshin, to the village square meeting with Lady Destiny a’Med.

All were gathered across Social Mediana, including Twilistia and the Book of Many Faces, unto Digital Perusia to witness Gambrach, unscripted. Yea, was he asked many questions.

“Your Majesty, thou sayest the Haramites of Boko have been vanquished and yet the forts of thine armies suffer great pillage at their hands. Are they truly vanquished?” Gambrach did not hear the question properly, so Lady Destiny repeated herself.

“They are vanquished. And warriors that mutter will be put to the sword.”

“What His Majesty means to say is…” interjected Osinoshin, as he launched into a fuller answer.

“Your Majesty, thou sayest thou art a man of upstandiness, untolerating of graft. Yet thou continuest to fraternise with Macashma Gandy, the great Sold. Why?”

As Gambrach pondered his answer, Osinoshin tried to jump in on his behalf again, “You see…”

“LET THE MAN SPEAK FOR HIMSELF!” demanded Lady Destiny. “Tis known the Many Years Disease affected his ears, has it spread to his tongue as well?”

“I believe the Macasham visions may have been a national bewitchment”, answered Gambrach finally, “for what manner of King is so stupid that he receiveth such gratification in person?”

The Lovengers applauded. The Killmongers on the other hand asked, “Is this your King?” And the unchill continued to swirl.

Finally, Lady Destiny asked him, “Your Majesty, if thou art not victorious at electoralis, wilt thou graciously accept defeat or will His Majesty again invoke SODAB, the “Siprit” of the Dog and Baboon?”

Gambrach smiled.”Loss? I look like someone who’s genuinely capable of loss to you? Are your eyes working? As my beloved Lady Kem-Shun would’ve said before she was hounded away, ‘nah, fam. I is not losing a bladclat ting! Those who gon’ lose know where the courts be!’ Peace!” Yea, did he throw the Game of Thrones season 8 sign again.

And all across the land, there was no gaddem chill.

 

 

Chronicles of Chill: The Second Epistle of Shegolas of Owurutas

Brethren, it was a time of cosmic unchills, back to back to back. The pestilences of petrolatic famine (which flew by day) and the murderous Yetis of Gawd (which flew by night) did not abate. Still, Gambrach said nothing. Lo, the people groaned in their homes, in the fields and in the temples and in the synagogues.

And when the keepers of the temples and synagogues heard the groaning, they tried to unlook and unhear it as they had for several quadrannia. But this was no ordinary groaning – it was groaning that had doh re me fa soh la ti do embedded in it. Behold, the spirit of pulpito incandescenta descended on the keepers of the temples and synagogues, causing them to cry in unison, “Procure ye thy cards of enfrachisement, for electoralis is at hand! Gambrach the Vanished hath become Gambrach the Deaf and Gambrach the Blind!” Yea, were they joined by the High Priest of the Illuminati, Farhni Kay.

The Deliverance Squad Squadron, in the tension of their unlooking of the Yetis of Gawd, heard the temple keepers and found their proclamation repugnant to the gambrachene spirit of which the squadron was possessed. And so they delivered Farhni Kay and some temple keepers to the squadron dungeons for a time. And Farhni Kay regaled them with the many legends of the unseen hand of the illuminati. The squadron could only take it for so long and they quickly released the men that they had delivered.

Gar Bar and FemCallamitus came unto Gambrach to tell him that the unchill in the land was overflowing its banks and he needed to do something. Gambrach agreed. Wherefore he summoned the leaders of the Apicureans to a banquet at Bedrock. Yea, it was tagged of hash as #BedBanq. Behold, Gambrach said unto them, “I welcome ye all to this banquet feast which we have tagged of hash ‘BedBanq’. I summoned ye hither to give thee a charge, nay, a great commission. After ye have eaten of the fat of my kitchen, go ye then unto the ends of the Kingdom to tell the people that I have heard their gaddem whining. Wheeeeen-wheeeen-wheeeen, like babies. I have heard and tis enough! For I am never ever in a hurry to accomplish aught. Why? Just look at the piss poor cabinet it took me 6 moons to select! Had I been in a hurry, would they not have been even more dismal? So, sing after me… Pacito, pacito…

Behold, the people heard it but the unchill was already of cosmic proportions. It couldn’t get any worse.

Then, it was told unto the Twilistians by the Kalahari Newsbearers that Bar Kar, Gambrach’s chief lawman (who had by now convinced everyone that the N was silent), had approached the magistrates for an injunctio dawonduro against the senatii. “My Lords,” he prayed the magistrates, “give me a dawonduro against senatii, for they probe my facilitation of the return of Oje Marina.”

“Can senatii not investigate malfeasance by the King’s men?” asked the magistrates.

“Not when it will implicate them, gaddemmit!!!” replied Bar Kar.

Behold, before the magistrates could give their verdict, Bar Kar was summoned back to Bedrock with urgency, by Kyocera. Lady Yeesha, the King’s wife, was sending word into Twilistia and Social Mediana. Lo, the word she was sending were the re-sent words of senateen Bruce Sensey Lee and his brethren, condemning Gambrach’s seemingly tacit endorsement of the Yetis of Gawd.

The people could not believe their eyes and ears! Could the King’s wife be amplifying words raised against her King? But before the people could say ‘my yeti allure’, her daughter, Asos, also sent a parable into Social Mediana, of an impending day of doom!

“What the gaddem hell goeth on in Gambrach’s other room????” the people demanded, confused by it all.

But Gambrach’s unlooking game was strong. And it was in that day that he announced that King Roe Chazz of Imolek, who had made Imolek famous for his massive erections, wouldst be his electoralis coordinator in the Easterosi kingdoms. Roe Chazz licked his lips and grabbed his crotch at the news. His finest work was still ahead of him.

And as the people muttered and the unchill rumbled on, suddenly a loud trumpet sound rent the air. Many thought it was the moment they would be caught up in the sky – they were ready to go, to be honest, for the unchill in the kingdom was indeed severe – but it was not yet that time. No. The trumpets were blown from the royal courts of King Shegolas of Owurutas, who preceded Mah Roo and Gejoshaphat on the throne. Like Gambrach, Shegolas had also reigned previously in quadrannia long ago, as a Man of Gunn (the chronology of the kings of the kingdom is recorded here). Unlike Gambrach who could not produce his scroll de minimis however, Shegolas was devoted to learning and had just been awarded a Pimping Happening Daddy scroll. Behold, it was turnt.

Yea, the trumpet blew for King Shegolas was about to make an important declaration. Nay, it was an epistle, enscrolled in a scroll. Lo, it was unscrolled and read to the people. And maaaaaiiiiiigheeeeeeeurdddddd, there was no gaddem chill in the stratos. It read –

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggghhhhhh! Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggh! Thou art my guy, but duuuuude! I knew thou wast fully capable of falling my hand but gadddemmm!!! Thou knowest nought about the econominix but didst thou listen to counsel from errconominists? Uhn uhnnn!! Thou knowest nought of diplomacy but didst thou employ skilled envoys? Thou knowest nothing of scribery yet thou employest frigging Gar Bar and FemCallamitus??? Dude! Come on!!!!

“Thou unlookest the works of the Yetis of Gawd, looking for lands to reward them with. Thou sayest thou fighteth corruption, yet your guy eateth Kwarapta Intrusivo and walketh free.

“And I defended thee at electoralis when thy enemies claimed that the spirit of Nepotismo dwelt strongly within thee. Yet thou puttest all the swords and arrows and spears of the kingdom under the charge of thy kinsmen. In the words of the ancient prophet Lateefus Kayodensis, “WHAT KIND OF JOB YOU DOING???”

“My guy, just quit. Move on. Go home and milk some cows, mehn. If thou lovest the kingdom, thou wilt not contend electoralis. We cannot afford to have a King that liveth in the palace of Madam Two Swords anymore. Selah.”

Of course, there was no gaddem chill in the land.

Now, Gambrach’s unlooking game was the best in the world but even he could not unlook the epistle of Shegolas. Immediately, he summoned Shiwajun and Candy B, SouthWesterosi gentry and Apicureans of stature.

“Shiwajun, I need you to unleash the Wahala Morghulis on Shegolas. Right away. This one, I am in a hurry to do. Wahala Morghulis now!”

“Patience, sire,” replied Shiwajun. “Patience.”

Chronicles of Chill: The Yetis of Gawd

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And thus it was in the land that the Tides of Yule ebbed and a glorious new year was born. The famine petrolatum persisted as, between the Three Wise Men of Petrolatum – Gambrach who was his own counsellor for petrolatum, E-Dawg who was the sub-counsellor & Baruch who led the King’s Drillmen, as well as the aforetold puppyfication of E-Dawg – none could tell why it remained scarce. Gambrach could not tell anything, to be fair to him, as he spoke to the people with ever reducing frequency.

Yea, it was in the fervency of that moment of unchill that Lady Zek Way came unto the Twilistians and declared, “Behold, as the season of electoralis descendeth upon us like a smog of depravity, let the houses of Padipalia and Apicuria take heed that today, I brandish a red plank of eviction. For their Kings and Counsellors have failed us and the time for a new reign must be at hand. Lo, the dawn of the age of the Third Force!”

“But thou wert counsellor to a Padipalian king,” the Bullshit MaChinery arm of the Lovengers responded. “Do you simply rage because Gambrach giveth thee not face?”

Wherefore she chuckled and said unto them in intermittent caplocks,”I have NEITHER need for face FROM Gambrach, nor the APPROVAL of thE LEAGUE of SCOFfers with which HE surrounds HIMSELF. But yea, SHALL I RAISE a league of red PLANKERS who will stand FOR a thiRD foRCE of CREDIBILITY!”

“But Gambrach is a good king!” the Lovengers protested, “Where is thy counterfactual evidence???”

But before Lady Zek Way could respond, the air was filled with cries of despair from the Palace of King of Autumn of Ben-Way. The Benwegians were a peaceful people, blessed by the gods with the most fertile earth in the 37 kingdoms. But from the lands further north came a league of fearsome pastoral herdsmen who led their flocks wherever they gaddem felt like. For them, nothing was more sacred than the hunger of their flock.  Wherever the owners of farmlands resisted them, these herdsman came back with such fire and fury the likes of which the farmers had never seen. Like Gambrach and El-Farquaad, these herdsmen were Fulannisters, and ye know the saying of El-Farquaad that “Fulannisters always collect their debts.” Lo, these herdsmen were of a wider union gang, who called themselves the Yetis of Gawd.

The Fulannister Pastoralists struck the Benwegians most mightily, killing several and then 3 score and a baker’s dozen.

King Autumn wept.

All the way to Bedrock, King Autumn wept, for like the people of the 37 kingdoms, he needed to hear Gambrach’s words of consolation. The people also thought there would be another sighting of the Waltzing Python of the King’s Armies for Car Knoo and his Ipobusinians had done far less before the armies swooped in and baptised him in the ocean of disappearance. But Gambrach said naught and there was great unchill in the land.

“Wawu!!!!” cried the people, “Gambrach saith nothing. Behold, he condemneth not the Yetis of Gawd. Is it because, like him, they are also Fulannisters?”

Wherefore FemCallamitus, in eager subservience, rushed into Twilistia protesting, “No, no, no. How canst ye say these despicable things against Gambrach the most noble, of the softest side? Know ye not that the Yetis slew 45,678,900 and three quarters under the reign of Gejoshaphat? Only 45,678, 552 have been slain under Gambrach, shewing that the Yetis are far less deadly under the reign of a fellow Fulannister.”

And the rumble of unchill grew, for the people could not fathom how nothing was unfathomable for FemCallamitus. But there was more unchill to come, for the Head Yeti had sent word into Twilistia. “Tis true that we slew the Benwegians. They were slain because after we passed through their kingdom, we saw that our livestock had reduced in number. It was a debt that was owed to us and ye knowest the ancient saying – a Fulannister always collects his debts.”

And a mist of fiery and furious unchill descended upon the land. There was no gaddem chill in the land.

There was also sadness in a corner of Twilistia, for Van Chee, a friend and brother to many and a dedicated student of the scrolls of the chronicles had crossed the Great Divide. He was greatly loved.

 

Chronicles of Chill: Thriller – Day of the Undead

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Brethren and Sisthren, the Chronicler had retreated from Twilistia to commune with the Tword and cross over into the new year in deep meditation. Lo, in the quiet place, the Chronicler enquired of the Tword, “When will the land of Gambrach and Gejoshaphat see chill? When will the Chronicles end? How much gaddem unchill can a kingdom withstand?”

Yea, from the void, came the tword of the Tword. Behold, they were ancient words once spoken by the glorious bard of global renown, Mikhail Jaksonovic and yet again they rang true –

Darkness falleth across the land

Electoralis is close at hand

Politicals crawl in search of posts

To terrorise the common good

For whosoever shall be found

Without the funds for getting down

Shall face the hounds of Outcast Hell

And rot inside a poverty cell.

“What meanest thou by these words?” the Chronicler enquired, but Tword would not say. All that was revealed was the word to “Go ye back into Twillistia, for something is afoot.”

“Right now?” asked the Chronicler.

“Sha-Mawnne!” the Tword replied.

Thus did the Chronicler peer into Twilistia and Social Mediana, and maigheeeeeeurd, what a sight!

*****

On the eve of the annum nueva, Mooz Ta Fari the new chief scribe to Gambrach, who had succeeded Balavida, approached the King in his chambers to bring a matter of grave importance to the King’s attention. “Sire, before the hour striketh ushering in the annum nueva, there remaineth the matter of His Majesty’s appointments to the Chocolate Tea Pot Councils. It has been nearly 3 years of our Chocolate Tea Pot Councils having no handles.”

“What? No chocolate tea pot handles all this time???” asked the King in disbelief, looking towards Kyocera, the Head of the King’s Staff at Bedrock. “Didn’t Balavida manage to sort it out before he encountered the kwarapta intrusivo weeds?”

“Majesty, indeed he did, but thou wast in glorious convalescence at the time and he, we, knew not how to make the appointments in thine absence.”

The King asked to see the list of nominees but was thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw. “Are these the best the kings have to offer the people? You know the people remain much pissed off by the persistence of the famine petrolatum. These names must not be the flame to their fuel.”

“Great king, these are the Apicurean gentry – lords and their serfs who stood with us in the battles of the past. Majesty, if I may, these councils are called chocolate tea pot councils for a reason…” replied Kyocera.

“Well, this is not good enough for me. I want ye to comb the Kingdom thoroughly for the best of the best of the Apicurean gentry. And I mean, everywhere! High and low, far and wide. The people deserve nothing but the best – chocolate tea pot or not. Leave no stone unturned! Heck, leave no tombstone unturned even! ”

The King’s men all looked at each other in confusion and the Gambrach saw their hesitation. “You know what? Fetch me FemCallami…”

“My King! My great, glorious, fragrant King! I am here! I am never far from thee! Behold, I was standing at the door waiting for your summons. Leave it all to me, thy most loyal FemCallamitus. I will find the finest, most eminently qualified names in the land for thee! As thou hast said O King, my motto shall be ‘No stone unturned, No tombstone unturned!'”

*******

The foulest stench is in the air

The funk of 57 years

And goony ghouls from every tomb

Are closing in to seal the doom

And though the teapot’s not alive

Its body starts to shiver

For no mere mortal can resist

The evil of … the thriller…

  • Mikhail Jaksonovic

******

FemCallamitus thought long and hard about the task with which he had been entrusted. If he was going to leave no tombstone unturned in his quest, he knew he would need the help of one man. Trouble was, the man was a Padipalian (it was complicated, as he had also been an Apicurian) and now a sworn enemy of Gambrach – could he be convinced to come to Gambrach’s aid?

No stone unturned, no tombstone unturned, muttered FemCallamitus under his breath, as he waited for the servants to summon their lord.

“What seekest thou here, thou common, poorly educated scribe?” the lord of the house demanded of FemCallamitus.

Espirit de corps,” said FemCallamitus, “thou hast also been a King’s Quill, oh great Farhni Kay – thou knowest the burden we bear and more importantly, for my mission, thou knowest things mere men do not.”

“Well, indeed, I do,” said Farhni Kay, his ego having been somewhat stroked, “what demandest thou of me? For thou knowest I canst never side again with thy King.”

“Side with me, then, Comrade. I ask for the help for myself, for I need to visit the Great Beyond.”

“If thou wanted to die, even a corporal in the King’s Army could have put a sword to your heart…”

Visit, dear friend, not a permanent journey, for tis not yet my time. I need to visit and return.”

“Now, look, dear boy, I am many things, but soothsayer is not one of them, so I’m not quite sure what…”

“…take me to the Illuminati!” FemCallamitus finally spat out. “Thou art the most versed in the ways of the Illuminati. Thou seest their unseen hand where no other man in the Kingdom dost. Thine eyes are not mere ojunus lassan – lo, thou seest with illuminatic eye beyond ephemerality. Only the Illuminati can facilitate the interviews I need to conduct to complete my quest. Help me, Farhni Kay, help me!”

Farhni Kay was quiet, for what seemed like an eternity. “Very well, then. But I must warn thee – there are rules and consequences…”

“I will do what must be done! For this is my mantra – no stone unturned, no tombstone unturned!”

*****

It was the day of the presentation of the members and handles of the chocolate tea pot councils. They would all gather in the square, to be shown to the people as appointed of the King.

There was yet unchill from the petrolatum affair, but the people were curious to see what appointments that took half a quadrannium to make looked like.

One by one, the appointed members and handles came forward to receive their scrolls of appointment from Gar Bar, who presided over the ceremony. Handing the scrolls to Gar Bar, smiling and looking very pleased with himself was FemCallamitus. The ceremony was proceeding nicely.

But lo, just as Gar Bar was about to compliment FemCallamitus on his good work, the lights suddenly dimmed and a dark, putrid stench filled all of Twilistia and in a flash, before the people stood 10…well…the Chronicler must confess that he knoweth what to call the beings that stood there. They were not of the living but they were certainly not quite of the dead. “Give us our scrolls,” they demanded.

“These are the ten special, most eminently qualified appointees of which I spake to thee,” announced FemCallamitus proudly. “I vetted and fetched them myself. They will be the best chocolate tea pot handles ever!”

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAT?” screamed Gar Bar.

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAAAAAT?” screamed the Social Medianites and the People of Twilistia.

“YOU DID WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?” screamed Kyocera from his perch in Castle Bedrock.

“FFS!” screamed Gambrach. “WTF??? GTFOH!!!”

Needless to say, brethren, this time with even Bedrock inclusive, there was not a speck, nary an atom, not even a molecule of gaddem chill in the entire gaddem kingdom!

The Chronicles of Chill: The Bobbiesian Epiphany

Thus did Electoralis minora take place in the Kingdom of Nambria. And yea, did Working Willie Wonka not only shew that he worketh, he was also a winner. He was thereafter known as Wonderful Winningly Working Willie Wonka. His opponents, Wonye West, Doka Cola and Bazil Oka, were all very magnanimous in their concession to Working Willie, for they had no choice. Behold, it was a sliding of lands victory, as House Apganistani reigned supreme in Nambria. And yea, did the people of Imolek look ruefully towards their neighbours in Nambria, for while they had only the erections of Roe Chazz to boast off, the Nambrarians had a Working Willie!

Lo, it was in that day, in the southern Freekah’n kingdom of Bobbiesia, that the long, long, long, long reign of old, old, old, old King Moo Garbage came to an end. In the early days of Bobbiesia, it was a supple and succulent land, flowing with milk bursting forth from the fertile areolae of the soil. This was at the time Moo Garbage led the revolution against the occupying Jandinian forces and prevailed, leading the people to crown him King.

But King Moo Garbage tasted and saw how sweet it was to drink from the goblet of the royal palaces. Like other Freekah’n kings, his hunger and thirst for power led him to ignore law of the quadrannium and remain in power at his leisure. But age catcheth up with tyrant and benevolent alike and King Moo Garbage suddenly saw that he was now four score and a baker’s dozen in age.

And King Moo Garbage purposed in his heart to give the keys of the kingdom to his wife, whose name was Ellie Gance, as an act of dynastic consummation of their love. “Ellie, my love, tis only thou I desire to leave the Kingdom. You will be Empress of Bobbesia and thy grace will be full.”

Yea, did Moo Garbage dismiss his hand, Ser MijinKagawa, who promptly fled the Kingdom and went into exile. But the Men of the Bobbiesian Gestappo and Armies were sorely displeased, for MijinKagawa was their guy. And lo, they rose like a swarm onto the streets of Bobbiesia, gently squeezing the people off the streets and the boldness out of Moo Garbage. “Ye must set forth at dawn!” they told the King.

“Are ye come to me in mutinous spirits?” asked King Garbage.

“Nay, oh King Moo. This is not a mutiny.”

“Then I command ye to return to thy quarters,” replied the King.

“Hahahahahahahaha! Thy humour has not gone the way of thy senses,” the army replied. “Seeest thou not, oh King, our great and shiny weapons pointed at thee?”

“Then, tis a mutiny. Ye are mutineers!” declared the King.

“Dwell not on the semantics of the occasion, Moo Garbage. Focus thou only on its conclusion – ye shall rule us no more.”

“Ye forget that I once came in like a wrecking ball,” said the King.

“Well, ye shall wreck us no more!”

And thus it was the reign of King Moo Garbage came to an end, and the streets of the Bobbiesian capital, Her Wire-ay, were filled with jubilation. MijinKagawa was declared King in Moo Garbage’s stead, and his very first words were, “Not believe own eye of MijinKagawa. King, biyotches!!!”

Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Gambrach, the kingdom of the chronicles, electoralis federalis was again at hand. One by one, the lords of House Apicuria declared a very much alloyed support for Gambrach’s contest for a second quadrannium. At the head of these declarations was Shiwajun, who was heard to say that Gambrach ought not assume that he would automatically be the choice of the Apicurians for electoralis. “Ye all know King Gambrach. He is a good and kind and benevolent King. He surely would never impose himself on us Apicurians, would he?”

Lo, news then came to the Twilistines, that Atikarias had deserted House Apicuriam and returned to House Padipalia, in the biggest open secret since the invention of the oxymoron. It shook him not that even after shredding the Pentiumz parchment, the kingdom’s sherriffs had revoked the papiers durosibi of some of the foreign workmen at Pentiumz, forcing them to return to their homes. Atikarias was going to seek to contend at Electoralis for House Padipalia, for the nine hundredth and sixty-seventh time. For yea it was said, that nine hundred and sixty eight is a charm.

And behold, there was a rustling of unchill, for many in Twilistia and Social Mediana were not soft of heart towards Atikarias.

Yea, did further news come to the people, from senatii, that the Everly Failing at Convictions Commission , in celebration of the feast of the Virgin Birth, had taken amongst themselves the two hundred buildings they confiscated from Oje Marina on behalf of the Kingdom. Lo, they denied it.

And yea, did the rustle of unchill become a rumbling of unchill because, gaddem! Two hundred???

Lo, the final straw was the denial of Bar Kar, Gambrach’s head Lawman (the N is silent), that he wrote the parchment ushering Oje Marina back into the King’s service. This followed his prior admission that he had voyaged to visit Oje Marina in exile in Doo Bahee. “Which is worse to admit, dude?” the people asked him. “Thou already admitest breaking bad with Oje Marina – what then is a mere parchment?”

And there was no gaddem chill in the kingdom but Gambrach was unaware of anything.

Yea, then came news from the oceans that 2 dozen maidens had perished, fleeing from the kingdom. Behold was there no word from Bedrock for 3 days and 4 nights. For Gambrach was oblivious to all. And the Twilistines asked Lady Bee Ree, Gambrach’s scribe for matters of those who had seen the light and fled the kingdom, “Oh, Bee Ree and ye scribes and councillors of Gambrach, see ye not how thy damsels perish?” Wherefore Bee Ree asked of them, “Huh?”

Yea, was she roasted in the ensuing unchill.

The Chronicles of Chill: Erecktaillo Dyzfunctionalis

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The people of Great Iron Bank of Brettonwoodsiana heard the words of Lady Kem Shun and the words filled them with alarm. “On the borrowments, thou needest to cool down a little”, they told her, to which Kem Shun replied, “Man’s not hot, though!”

In the faraway Kingdom of Kossisee, the people were under the reign of King Jay-Kurrb. Unlike Kings Mandillas and Beckie who ruled before him, King Jay-Kurb was not much loved of his people. He believed in the mystical power of his bathtub to save him from post-coital leprosy, for it was made by famous tub carver Naman Jordan. And yea, was Jay-Kurrb also highly pilferous, and lo did he have 40 score charges of corruption pending against him with the magistrates – the first King of Kossisee to be so accused. But Jay-Kurrb was to find redemption in the Imolekkite kingdom of Ro Chazz.

Like Jay-Kurrb, Ro Chazz also found it hard to win the love of his people. He boasted of spoiling them with the best of the best of infrastuctural delights, but yea were there none to be seen. And when King Ro Chazz heard of the difficulties of King Jay-Kurrb, he decided to summon him over to Imolek for a day of feasting and debauchery. Jay-Kurrb voyaged to Imolek and yea, like the ancient prophet Ferris Beuller, he had a hell of a day off.

Lo, did they party and feast and Jay-Kurrb was conferred with the highest prefecture of the Imolekkites. And behold, at the end of the day, just before he departed for Kossissee, Ro Chazz called him aside.

“Jay-Kurrb!”, Ro Chazz called.

“Barrddest!”, came the reply.

“Jay-Kurrb!!!”

“Barrdesst!!!”

“Jay-Kurrb, I have a huge erection for you. Come outside let me show you.”

And Jay-Kurrb went outside and saw that Ro Chazz had erected a huge, shiny golden statue. “Oh Ro Chazz, I’m honoured, but what wilt thy pensioners whose pensions thou has halved say?”

“They can shovituptheirezz. I am proud of my big, shiny erection for thee!”

And of course, there was no chill in the Kingdom. Behold, even in Kossissee, there was an eruption of mirthful unchill, for they could not fathom it. “Keep Jay-Kurrb and let us have the gold statue in his place, for this wouldest be of greater use to us.”

Gambrach could see the mercury of the Unchillometer pushing through to new highs and knew that something had to be done. “Come hither, my council. It seemeth that we lose the love and chill of the people. How canst we turn za tide?”

“Oh Gambrach most gracious and fragrantly divine” said FemCallamitus, “Let me tell thy people of my love for thee yet again. I am sure it will turn their hearts.”

“Ah, FemCallamitus, alas that is all thou art useful for. I need real solutions, however.”

“Sire, a lot of the unchill cometh from South Easteros,” said Osinoshin. “Shall we dazzle them with your Easterophilia?”

“Aha! Good idea!”

“Wilst thou go into South Easteros to shew them thy love? Remember, electoralis is at hand in Nambria.”

“I? South Easteros? Never, wallahi! I shall send thee in my place. Behold, I depart for Constantinople even. Peace out.” And he ascended into the winged chariot with Lady Yeeshah, who had just emerged from the other room.

And so Osinoshin sighed and set out for Nambria. As he departed Bedrock, Gar Bar and FemCallamitus sent pigeons across the 37 kingdoms to let the people know that 40 years after the Frabanian rebellion, the lovely and magnanimous Gambrach had decided to approve the payment of gratuity to the Frabanian Legion, “…for he loveth thee!”

And when Osinoshin reached Nambria, he also announced to the people that Gambrach had physically trekked across the seven hills and swum the seven lagoons to reach the Iron Bank, to secure 2 gatrillion trumpetistani shekels to build a second bridge over troubled waters, so they could lay themselves down, “…for he loveth thee!”

But Osinoshin’s squire, unaware of the love-showing plan, sent a corrigendum out into the Kingdom. It was not trumpetistani shekels – it was the coin of the Kingdom. Yea, did the people hear it and lo, was there nary a gaddem speculum of chill in the land.