was After receiving a call yesterday evening from the residents of the distant
town Deussel who reported seeing "small chunky stuff" raining down from the
sky, I set out to investigate. As the self-appointed Officer of the WadAsia
High Council of Forensics, I felt I was the only one who could resolve the
mystery of this strange occurrence.
Upon arrival, I was led to the area of highest concentration. After
scutinizing the substance, I determined it to be from a plate of spaghetti
that had somehow exploded. I determined that this must be fragments of Sir
Jeffulot's last meal before battling the King. Further investigation
revealed traces of a spleen, possibly that of Sir Jeffulot. It is unknown
how his remains could be scattered about this small town, some 60 miles from
Upon returning to the castle, the townsfolk of WadAsia embraced me and said
things to me that I will never forget. "The King has ordered us to wear
these faggy clothes. You must do something!" Sure enough, they were decked
out in pink leotards and spandex, the Kings favorite evening wear.
I also noticed signs with horrible and scary messages on them, such as
"Please Pet the Puppies," "Ducky Crossing Ahead," "Be Nice to Your
Neighbor," and even "Live in Peace, Love, and Harmony." I knew this meant
the King had somehow pussifed WadAsia.
In as much as the Dark Knight is MIA, Awful is nowhere to be found, and
Bodhisattva is still in training, I must take it upon myself to free WadAsia
from this reign of (sissy) terror.
I, Lord Azrael, do hereby challenge the King himself to a battle to 50 for
the crown. After winning, I will restore WadAsia to its former glory, where
people are free to wear House of Blues shirts and blue jeans.
Since the King has battled two straight days, I know he must wash his
favorite frilly leotard. I myself must travel to the town of Viennama this
weekend to squash an insurgent uprising of right-wing guerillas who are
terrorizing the town. Hence, the great battle may commence tonight,
tomorrow, or Sunday. When the King finishes ironing his pink leotard and
silk slips, he may set the day and time.
~ Property of the WadAsian High Council
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