Gunther's Great Campaign

Gunther sat upon his throne,
and sighed a long and lazy groan.
"No siege, no war, no plague or threat,
how boring can a kingdom get?!"

"No ramparts flecked with clanking swords.
No raids from savage, shrieking hordes.
No banging drums or ramming logs.
No droves of oinking battle hogs."

Just the lightest, wistful breeze
softly buffeting the trees.
Gunthor sulked, he shed a tear.
A king's agenda, free and clear.

So he mastered tic-tac-toe...
and bought a fiddle for his bow...
carved a totem with some ruffles...
trained his hogs to hunt for truffles.

He even bought a royal boat
to sail around the castle moat.
But no hobby would suffice,
or any toy, at any price...

Then the royal crier shouted.
"Lord, some dissidence hath sprouted.
Subjects do not care to pay
to watch you sail your boat all day."

Gunter sulked, he had to frown.
He did not mean to let them down.
If only bygone foes would wake.
Just one more siege? For old time's sake?

Alas, not one hostile flea.
And subjects would not let him be.
"Make it better" was their call. Wait!
Was he needed after all?

"The folks all say that change is good.
Improve my kingdom? Yes, I should!"
And what makes a kingdom great?
"Great people! These I must create!"

Council, tell me, please explain
the traits of whom I shall ordain.
What describes our kingdom's idol?
Drumphle, what deserves this title?

"YOUR MAJESTY, SO GREAT AND STRONG
NO NEED TO DRAG THIS OUT TOO LONG!
POWER, MIGHT, AND COURAGE REIGN!
FOR MEN AND KINGDOMS, BOTH THE SAME!"

“It isn’t so, your highness fair,”
objected a most proud Pierre.
“Grace in speech and looks that shine,
without these what can be divine?”

Gunther saw each point of view,
but couldn’t decide between the two.
“Melvin, oh so shrewd and old,
which man’s words shall I uphold?”

"Royal highness, wise and just,
for this I grant eternal trust:
Of greatness, one above his brother,
not one soul can best another."

The king was dour, and not amused.
He did not like to be confused.
So the three received their orders:
“Find the greatest in these borders!”

Drumphle shouted: "LET'S BEGIN!"
A soldier entered, tall and trim.
"WELL, GOOD EVENING TO YA MATE!
TELL US WHAT MAKES YOU SO GREAT!"

"DRAGONS SIRS, YES, TWO NOW SLAIN!
I ITCH TO FACE ONE YET AGAIN!
I AM GREAT BECAUSE I FIGHT!
I DO SO EVERY DAY AND NIGHT!"

Drumphle smiled, his thumb went high.
"GENTLEMEN, WE'VE GOT OUR GUY!
NOT ANOTHER IN THE LAND
HAS SLAIN ONE DRAGON WITH HIS HAND!

Pierre abruptly shook his head.
"Drumphle, look, his shoes are red.
No, it's just, this cannot do....
Heavens no, his socks are blue!"

Melvin turned, but would not say.
"My thumb need not go either way.
For one so great all must agree.
My vote, it would not count, you see?"

And in they came, all through the night.
Pierre and Drumphle, black and white.
Melvin dropped his lazy head.
He slept the night away instead.

Morn arrived, he felt a tap,
arousing Melvin from his nap.
Both their hands came into view.
Not one thumb was up, but two!

Melvin shook his head and sighed.
His thumb went down, the last, denied.
"Greatness is not ours to buy
not for all the Earth and sky."

Gunther stormed right through the door.
"I see not one could make the score.
None has greatness as he ought?!
This is far worse than I thought."

"Drumphle, front and center, please.
This kingdom has a bad disease,
each poor soul whom you dismissed,
into your army, will enlist."

"And you, Pierre, to fix this scourge
will take the ones among your purge.
Lead them from the stone ramparts
and train them in the finer arts."

"Go now, fix this awful mess.
Greatness! I demand no less.
Repair this broken population!
Or, endure harsh reprobation."

Pierre did what his king had said.
Exchanged their swords for spools of thread.
Guards and archers, strong and nimble,
traded gauntlets for a thimble.

Drumphle marched the student body
through the mud, unkempt and bawdy.
Took their brushes, pens, and locks,
and sent complainers to the stocks.

Progress swiftly underway,
it hastened through each night and day
"Do your best, for Gunther's sake!"
The kingdom's greatness was at stake.

Pierre was skilled and Drumphle bold,
but training soon required gold.
Gunther trusted their advice.
"Greatness! Yes! AT ANY PRICE!"

"Glitter Wagons? Oh what fun!"
But who needs glitter by the ton?
"Giant doilies? What is this?"
Something, plainly, was amiss.

"Lordship! Help! We have a mess!
A kingdom under great duress!"
Gunther nodded, filled with fret,
descended promptly into debt...

...

Greatness had all but expired.
Something drastic was required.
"To arms!" Gunther called the three,
"A war on mediocrity!"

Melvin gasped, "with due respect.
Reason prompts me to object."
Greatness, sir, comes from within.
A war to gain it cannot win!"

While they pondered Melvin's notion
Outside hummed a loud commotion.
Subjects gathered in the square
Demanding what was just and fair.

Gunther feared he was a goner,
having spent all but his honor.
Blunders rife, and widely known,
he surely would be overthrown.

But the sight was not so grim.
Their demands were not of him.
They knew what was fair and just.
It came from one another's trust.

Spindly builders offered tools
to husky tailors for their spools,
sewed some nifty shirts to swap,
and in turn received a shop!

Everywhere was restoration,
town alive with inspiration.
Building, fixing, helping others,
former subjects now like brothers.

"A lovely and forthright surprise!"
Greatness sprung before his eyes.
But poor Gunther was forlorn.
He'd only ruled, since he was born.

So he walked into the bustle.
None were looking for a tussle.
On a stump so all could see,
he offered his wholehearted plea.

"No, a builder I am not,
I can't even tie a knot.
But my service, it is yours,
How can I help your homes and stores?"

The people, an ambitious crew
had thought about his function too.
They handed him a special doily,
which he raised before him coyly.

"ON THIS DOILY, LOOK TO SEE
THE SUM OF YOUR AUTHORITY:
WHEN THERE IS NO SIEGE OR THREAT
YOU MUST NOT MAKE ONE! DON'T FORGET!"

"YOUR DUTY, SIR, IS TO PREVENT
ALL RULING WITHOUT OUR CONSENT.
NO TAKING SWORDS, NO GIVING SPOOLS
NO BREAKING THESE IMPORTANT RULES."

"IF YOU PLEDGE TO LET US BE
TO BUILD OUR KINGDOM OF THE FREE
YOU CAN HAVE YOUR HOME AND MOAT
WE'LL EVEN LET YOU KEEP YOUR BOAT."

Scanning each and every word,
he was amazed and reassured.
"The doily rules! Yes, I'll respect it,
preserve, protect, and defend it!"

All the people cheered and sang,
and up above, they heard a bang.
Glitter sparkled from the sky.
Throughout that warm night in July.

Gunther walked back to his throne.
The smile on his face had grown.
"No siege, no war, no plague or threat,
how greater can a kingdom get?!"

a little heart

It was a question I would never need to ask:

Mommy, why do bad things happen to good people?

It's not that I wouldn't think to ask, or be interested to know. I would probably have been as curious as anyone to find out. I might have even gone to great lengths to investigate the issue. But, the fact remained: I simply would not need to worry about such questions in my lifetime. It was a type of freedom, really, and I know there are many not so free...

The Asian man rubbed some jelly on mom's tummy and then rubbed a plastic thing over her skin. Dad sat on a stool across the room, watching the monitor with a serious look on his face. I know they were proud of me, because I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I just let my little heart beat like it wanted to anyway. Even though it was easy, I knew how important it was, and I wanted to help as much as I could.

I already knew mom loved me very much. I knew that ever since her miscarriage, which happened a couple years before I showed up, she did all sorts of things just for me. She took her temperature every morning and recorded it in a little journal. She read one book after another about pregnancy and nutrition, and even changed her whole diet. She drank some awful-tasting stuff, like a weird kind of herbal tea and some strange fish oil. I don't know exactly why, for sure, but I knew it was all for me. She even wrote down everything she ate. And, she did a lot more that I don't even know about. Oh, that's right, she paid a lot of money to go to this place where they poke you with all these little needles. Ouch! Can you believe that? Well, I don't know whether all that worked or not, but I do know that at some point, I came into the picture. And mom was pretty happy to learn about me, I could tell...

After mom knew about me for just a couple days, I could tell she was worried. She said she was bleeding or something wasn't normal. She thought it was another miscarriage, and was very, very sad. She cried and cried. The last time she had jelly on her tummy they didn't see a heart beat, and she didn't want that to happen again. But, I was here the whole time. She took pregnancy tests that were positive, and waited for the miscarriage to happen, knowing something wasn't right. When it didn't happen for several weeks, she finally went to get a blood test. That was just a few days ago. Then, last night, things got very bad.

Mom was very sick and pale, and didn't feel very good at all. She thought she was going to throw up and had pain in her tummy. She thought it was going to happen; the miscarriage that is. But, it didn't, and the pain just got worse. Dad asked if he should take her to the Emergency room. At first she said no, but later, when she could hardly move with all the pain, dad carried her to the car and drove her to the hospital. He drove very fast. When she got there she was very faint, and even passed out. They stuck a needle in her arm and attached a hose that hooked up to a bag of clear fluid. They also asked her a bunch of questions. Mom was fading in and out, but she could understand things. When the doctor said that I may not be in the right spot, she was sad. Everyone was busy taking care of mom because she was in a lot of pain, and bleeding inside. There was nothing I could do about it, but I wish there was.

That was when we went to meet the Asian man with the jelly and the plastic thing. They were looking at me all snug in my cozy little home. Mom asked what he could see, and at first he said he didn't know. Dad was watching the monitor, but he didn't seem to know what he was looking at. Finally, after rubbing that thing over her belly for a while, he told her I was not in the right place. I wish I was in the right place, and dad wished I was too, but I wasn't. Mom began to cry. Then, he showed her my little heart beating. Mom cried very much when she saw this; when she saw me saying "hi." I didn't want her to be sad, and I didn't want dad to be sad either. But, I knew I was also saying goodbye, and no one likes to say goodbye. I was glad I could at least do that, though.

So they took mom into a different room and they made sure I couldn't do any more harm to her. I am glad for that because I did not want her to hurt any more.

I know mom and dad have to ask questions like 'why do bad things happen to good people?' I know mom and dad have a lot of other things to think about too. But me? I'm lucky. I don't have to worry about any of that. All I know is that I am loved very much. I figure I don't need to know much of anything else.

Downfall

I have sold out.

Many thousands of you may have been wondering why my posts here have been sparse of late. Well, it just so happens one of my ramblings was edited and converted to book form. Specifically, this one. Actually, a significant portion of my mind and body has been snatched by a small independent publishing company called "Penelope Press." As a result, my actual writing activities have been transplanted by a brief period of promoting, manipulating, and using any other means necessary (within the limits of the law) to feed this ravenous beast its diet of sales. It now needs to feed.

Another tiny cog in the great machine has been affixed to the dank recesses of the lower engine room. I already feel the fringes of my soul entering its perilous jaws. But, I still want you to buy my book. Why? Because the precious has begun its advance, and there is no stopping it. See? It even put a promotion on the right side of this page. God help me.

The love of money

"The love of money is the root of all evil."

I forget who said that...

It does have a nice ring to it...

Which does not detract from its inaccuracy...

Memo: The "love of money" has been confirmed not to be the "root of all evil," as previously reported.

I do not even need to defer to the image of a mother desperate to feed her starving children to prove that loving money is not equal to evil, but rather equal to loving what one intends to do with it.

• I love money because I desire to purchase materials that allow me to poison my body with toxic substances. Does this make me evil?
• I love money because I enjoy paying taxes. Does this make me evil?
  
• I love money because I enjoy the act of stealing it from starving children. Does this make me evil?

Actually, I afford booze and taxes by depriving children. I don't do it exclusively for profit. I do it because I love the activity of deceiving parents and their children. Really, it's not about the money. Yet, I'm not exactly ripping money from a child's hand and setting it on the counter next to my box of wine. That would be stupid...

People don't like to sell booze to an alcoholic, much less a person who drinks and then steals from innocent children.

As for taxes, I don't exactly claim "stealing from children" as business income on my tax return. I use some other flowery language related to advertising revenue.

As much as I love stealing from children, it is, in practice, a rare luxury. I am too busy managing my company which makes 1 billion in profits a year.

Am I evil now?

First of all, there is no proof I actually love profit for its own sake (it's not really the money I love so much as removing it from those little hands). Second of all, most of this money isn't even mine. It goes into the making of the widgets and paying the people to make them. These widgets happen to be used to make the hamburger that I watch the starving children purchase before I rip it from their hands and devour it in front of their faces. This is why I do what I do. Oh, if only I had more time...

Instead I am busy fulfilling a need for all the other people who require hamburgers so that they can steal them from their own starving children behind their parent's backs. That is what I do. I don't mind if some hamburgers incidentally make it to the bellies of starving children...I couldn't care less.

If my activities were for the perpetual pursuit of an infinite amount of dollars, and every penny was stolen from the desperate hand of a starving child, a love of money is not to thank. It is the ignorance of my customers, lawmakers, and benefactors that permits and encourages the achievement of my most true love.

But most of all, it is the parents for never even recognizing the hand that rips away that which their children might have had otherwise, as depriving them of currency is only the beginning. For their undiscerning eye, I am truly grateful.

"Ignorance, the root and stem of every evil."
— Plato

(The love of money is just a particularly nefarious branch)

Ego

I was accused of having a "high ego" today.

I suspect the accusation really means: "you don't yield to stupidity very well, and others find it offensive."

This came from an individual who I respect greatly, so I will take it as a compliment. The same gentleman has previously suggested I take a more powerful stance in meetings (in those certain cases where he understood the reasons and implications of my cause). I have been in the unfortunate position of being the voice of reason while faced with fierce opposition. At that time, without seniority or an impressive title, the only weapon I had was reason. I once assumed this was a boring, but safe and effective course, and that alternative influences could not derail it. When ignored and my ideas discounted, I assumed I was, myself, not capable of identifying reason.

Overcoming that persistent influence, that of self-doubt, took roughly 30 years of living, careful observation, and experience swimming in an ocean of well-intentioned incompetence and fear. I drastically underestimated the complexity of our condition. I found an attack with reason can only inflict damage on one's adversary from the inside. It cannot be forced upon them with an increased volume of voice any more effectively than through the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun. And, when you succeed, your adversary succeeds also, although in an excruciating way, as the enemy of reason is always driven to madness when forced to recognize it.

Why do it? This plight is masochistic. The wielder of reason does not grow stronger when a battle is won. He is simply hated to a greater degree...until the inevitable reputation, honor, and cash come to all of his adversaries. Then, he gets a pat on the head for his efforts...

Why? Why champion reason? What's the incentive?

Income? Nope. I personally get paid either way. In my case, the worse I do my job, the greater I am needed. The more our users are confused, the more demand there is for quality writing.

Reputation? Nope. I have almost none to protect. What I have would not stop me from abandoning reason altogether if, for example, unacceptable living conditions required it. I suspect some would abandon reason for much less...

Why does an employee do good work?

As an employer, do I trust someone who just wants a paycheck?

Do I trust someone who just wants a podium and a microphone?

No, I trust someone who wants to be the best damn [something] in the universe. And, I want to give that person the opportunity to succeed and take me with them. That's all. Is that so hard to understand?

I expect a successful employee to be given the information they need to become the best they can be, so that we can all benefit. If an employee's conclusions are incorrect because information has been withheld from them, this does not warrant a departure from reason. In such a case it is the employer's fault for not providing them the resources they need. Depriving an employee of the information they need to succeed is worse than paying them less than they have earned. A low-payed employee can quit. An misinformed employee can only damage himself and the ship. How can the best navigator find shore given an inaccurate map?

Even so, knowing the map is in error is the duty of the navigator. The employee who enjoys the freedom of reason knows that decisions cannot be made without information, and simply acquires this information as a matter of course. It is not for show, but to get the damn job done. What can drive an individual to reach their potential, to succeed beyond all expectation, without an ego?

Perhaps by having an ego I believe in the quality of my work, and the justification for it. It is justification of the most valid kind. Money, fame, and power can easily drift from one person to another almost by accident. This fact makes these things of relatively small value, especially when they are so frequently in the hands of those who have not earned them. One who is comfortable with nothing less than improvement and excellence of them self, even in defiance of the judgment of others, is a person who can be trusted. How can excellence by our own definition exist without reason. Is not reason apparent enough? Please tell me how I can be excellent without reason and save me the damn trouble!

If by having a "high ego" I am criticized for believing in myself and my cause, and going forward with confidence, I am guilty as charged. The only difference between me and the more established individuals with whom I wrestle is that I am not afraid to recognize the value of my work and know that I did the best I could given the information I had. Why should someone be ashamed for doing this, even if it results in total failure? But, with confidence, trust, information, reason, and the drive for self-improvement (aka ego), how can anything fail?

Humility? F*** it. I'll leave that to those with reason to be humble. If you are right, go down with all guns blazing. Don't let the foot of ignorance slowly crush your face against the floor for the rest of your life.

Ya know, do me and everyone a favor. Tell an idiot to go f*** themselves today. Don't use those words. Rather, just show them precisely why they are an idiot in the most delightful and gracious way possible with irrefutable evidence.

You'll be glad you did.

Tale of the Twin Wizards [The Purple Stew Redux]

A revised excerpt from the Tale of the Twin Wizards.

The Purple Stew
For many years Anastican had been improving his recipe for purple stew. Through great experiments with exotic ingredients, Anastican's stew gradually achieved more and more favor among the residents of Tinsley. At some point it was recognized that Purple stew satisfied their hunger like no other food in all the land. People came from miles around to taste Anastican's purple stew, and all who consumed it were lifted to good spirits from its delicious flavor. In the evenings all would gather in Tinsley's public house, and Anastican would pass a single bowl of purple stew to be consumed by all who hungered for it. Drank directly from the bowl, there was always enough to satisfy everyone who had gathered, and not one drop more. After eating purple stew in the public house, the angry grew content, the content grew cheerful, and the cheerful grew outright silly. In fact, it was well known that no two people with bellies full of purple stew were capable of fighting with one another. Oh sure, they may argue and bicker as Balthizan and Anastican would on the mountain top, but blood was never spilled after a meal including Anastican's purple stew. As much as Anastican was dismissed and ridiculed for his many inadequacies, no one with the characteristic purple lips could deny the delightful tastiness of his stew.

Balthizan enjoyed Anastican's purple stew as much as anyone in Tinsley village, but he also grew to despise it. Oh, yes, it was the one thing Anastican had that he did not, but, this alone did not trouble Balthizan. Balthizan, like all in Tinsley, had nothing but the highest regard for the talents of others, particularly those talents that he did not have himself. No, Balthizan's sorrow was great for another, much more unenviable reason: With all his might and love for his fellow villagers, he wanted nothing more than to help Tinsley...to protect them from danger of every kind. But, because of Anastican, he feared that Tinsley no longer required his protection...

You see, before Anastican had perfected his recipe for purple stew, the Village of Tinsley was afflicted by a persistent and awful terror. It was a scourge so horrific that all who remember it wish they did not. Well, almost all...

In those days, the tranquil peace of Tinsley would frequently be interrupted by a faint and disruptive sound. While hardly noticeable at first, it instantly sent shivers down the spine of every villager. Harsh and distinctive, the coo-cooing gradually increased in volume until it echoed off the tall mountain slopes; an intense and desperate wailing. All would look to the horizon with trepidation, wishing their ears had deceived them. But, all such hopes would be squashed as they watched the ominous, majestic, gray wings slowly materialize, flapping against the distant sky. They were Gridgeons...great pigeons...and they were quite unwelcome. While their marvelous feathery plumage might have deceived the casual observer, make no mistake, the Gridgeon was no dove. Yet, for all its ill-repute, the bird would be of mere annoyance if not for the whip of its infamous rider, the hideous, warty, MEGAtoad. Mounted upon the Gridgeon, the MEGAtoad was a toad of terror so nefarious, so unsavory, that saintly kings and ruthless barbarians alike still shiver upon their mention.

While I could describe the nature and characteristics of this foul creature, there is no better way illustrate its sinister awfulness than recounting the MEGAtoad's first, surprise assault on the village of Tinsley.

In that first invasion, the town of Tinsley was completely unaware a creature such as a MEGAtoad could exist, much less the fact the unsightly Gridgeon could be trained as a bird of burden. That day was calm, and pleasant, and the first faint coo-coos went completely ignored. You see, at the time, Grideons were not an uncommon nuisance, and one would occasionally flutter upon a roof, bending rafters with its great weight. There it would perch, its head poking up above the highest church steeple for all the town to see. Generally one of the school children would be summoned to pelt it with rocks from a slingshot. The Gridgeon was easily annoyed by this, and would quickly flap away. They were silly birds. All and all they weren't so bad, and might even be tolerated if not for their enormous and unpredictable droppings. (It is well known an evacuation from one Gridgeon is sufficient in size to bury an unsuspecting man alive.)

Anyway, the villagers were so busy that morning they did not hear the coo-cooing even as it grew very near. Most did not see, even at the last moment, that there was not one Gridgeon, but hundreds, floating over their humble village. Witnesses who did observe their arrival report a MEGAtoad one quarter the size of a man was saddled upon each one, and they swooped from the clouds as these MEGAtoads leaped to the rooftops below, wreaking havoc of all kinds on the carefully placed shingles. But, roof damage was only the beginning. Their fireproof reptilian flesh allowed them to hop down chimneys, which they did with great enthusiasm. The MEGAtoad's arrival in a house was marked by a shower of sparks as it crashed into the burning embers of the fireplace. This first assault quite startled unsuspecting children who happened to be warming themselves, particularly as they observed a plump, wart-laden MEGAtoad suddenly staring at them from the flames.

Stunned, the roasting Megatoad would sit upon the burning log for several minutes as the household gathered to observe this incredible manifestation. Recalling that first invasion makes one shudder, as none could have possibly known the impending carnage. Heated to a glowing red, the tempered toad would awaken and leap from the flames with lightning speed.

Then, its rampage would begin.

The MEGAtoad would hop through the house, ingesting one valuable after another with imperceptibly fast lashes of its long, adhesive tongue. Vases, cookware, and even drapery would be snatched so fast one could hardly imagine the MEGAtoad was responsible. Families would watch the MEGAtoad pilfer entire estates without the slightest knowledge a thieving MEGAtoad was in their midst. They simply thought their property was disappearing!

Within the hour, the Gridgeon would return to pick up the bloated MEGAtoads. They would gather them from the streets with their distinctive claws, lifting them into the sky. But, their assault was not complete. Stuffed with property, the MEGAtoad was not easy to carry, and Gridgeons would need to remove excessive weight in any way they could. As the birds ascended, screaming villagers fled for cover as dozens of Gridgeons emptied their bowels in a bombardment of avian excrement. By the time all of the MEGAtoads were recouped, the town was relieved if its possessions and left trudging knee-deep in a thick slurry of Gidgeon waste. It was a fate so sudden and dramatic that all villagers were left in a state of stunned confusion, waiting to awaken from their terrifying nightmare.

But, it was no nightmare. It was real, and it happened so fast that Balthizan had not even awoken from his nap. Finally, he emerged from his cottage and was shocked to discover the moaning of distressed villagers shoveling each other out of the unpleasant white bog that had replaced the streets. Some were buried up to their shoulders, struggling to break free before their prison hardened around them. He looked into the distance and saw the flock of Gridgeons flapping over the mountains. He returned to his cottage and began studying spells, determined to stop the scourge of the MEGAtoad from ever happening again. This is when he found spell 101: "Lightning Bolt." He would not stop studying until he got it right.

One year later, just as Tinsley had finally been cleaned and the buildings had finally been repaired, the flock of Gridgeons returned. All in town panicked at the first sign of coo-cooing, and ran for cover, but Balthizan jumped to action. He ran to the bell tower and climbed to the very top. He waited until he could see the MEGAtoad's warts and then began blasting them with powerful bolts. The birds scattered in a flurry of cooing and giant feathers showered the land just outside the city walls. All watched the impressive spectacle as Balthizan became Tinsley's hero and savior. Not one MEGAtoad pilfered one piece of property. A great feast was thrown in Balthizan's honor and he was showered with many gifts. After all, if Balthizan had not warded off the MEGAtoads, the town would have nothing left at all.

Balthizan kept the MEGAtoads at bay for many years, and discouraged, their raids became less frequent.

Then one day there was a knock at the village gate. When the guard looked through the tiny window he saw something very unexpected...a MEGAtoad! He was startled at first, but decided there was no reason to be rude.

"I'm sorry, I cannot let you in. MEGAtoads are not permitted within the walls of Tinsley."

"Please, my family and I have lost our Gridgeon, and we have nowhere to go. Please help us. We promise not to steal anything."

To make a long story short, this particular MEGAtoad entered the village, and immediately began plotting to snatch as many valuable things as he could stuff inside himself. (He was a MEGAtoad, a toad of terror, what's he gonna do?) But, before he began looting, he decided to eat a meal at the public house. And, there, he was passed a bowl of Anastican's purple stew.

The MEGAtoad took the bowl, put it to his lips, and began drinking it. He slurped and gulped it down ravenously, pouring the stew down his very large throat. He tipped the bowl up, intending to finish it, but he could not. Even though his belly was of an incredible capacity, capable of holding a household-worth of plunder, the capacity of the bowl was greater. He continued to eat, spreading purple all over himself and the villagers next to him, who cheerfully encouraged him.

Finally, the MEGAtoad tilted the bowl down and sat still in what appeared to be slight intoxication. A moment later, BbbbBBBEEELCH! He, shook his head and everyone in the public house cheered. He passed the bowl to everyone in his family, who followed suit, and then all four MEGAtoads hopped out the door.

They proceeded down the street and found a nice little house that would be perfect for looting. But, they were too full. They all knew they could not fit enough stuff down their bellies. The small amount that could fit simply wouldn't be worth the trip. So, they stayed at the inn and decided to postpone their thievery until the next morning. When they awoke, they were hungry, and decided it was time to pillage, but they all agreed a light breakfast was in order first. Again, they were passed the bowl, and couldn't help but engorge themselves completely with the delicious purple stew.

This scenario continued for the next several days, until the family of MEGAtoads finally decided they would rather live in Tinsley than loot it. They wanted to be close to the purple stew. Before long, they invited all their friends to visit Tinsley, and they all were all able to consume enough purple stew to keep themselves bloated, happy, and uninterested in thievery of any kind.

No one in Tinsley minded the arrival of the peaceful MEGAtoads. Everyone knew that the bowl could never be depleted until everyone in the public house was satisfied. And, the people of Tinsley very much enjoyed exchange and companionship with these strange MEGAtoads. All the people of Tinsley, that is, except Balthizan...

Balthizan grew very sad...for he was so powerful and capable with his lightning bolt, and he felt that his great talents were being wasted. Sure, he danced and sang during his meals of purple stew in the public house with the villagers and MEGAtoads, but in the mornings he would awaken with anger and spite. He secretly wished more than anything for an enemy to raid the village. Then, he would be able to prove his might once more and assure all that he was the most famous and honorable wizard in all the land. After all, why did Anastican deserve such glory? All he did was cook dinner. Balthizan decided that Anastican was not really the one responsible for the peace of Tinsley village. He was. After all, he figured it was the fear of his lightning bolt that kept other invaders away anyway. He thought all of these things in silence, and knew they could not be mentioned. After all, he was still honored in the village far more than anyone else, and certainly more than Anastican.