My name is Tork. I crave nothing but the heart-throb I never really knew. She was so rabid, my Dora. I left her behind, but loving me was her only crime.

The King was wallowing in the mud, sinking, letting out a hearty ranting. How low can you get? He asked me: "Would you like to take a dip?" "Perhaps" I replied. I felt that I had to demur, reasoning that getting in the mud with the King would be golly-gosh awkward, though I felt that I'd do very well in there, gullible as I was. Sensing my negativity, the King roused himself, saying "Hello" only loud enough for one to hear. Meanwhile, the ogre Nemesis and the ogre's coterie arrived. This consisted of an Arab Sultan, a German Prince and a hick in a comic hat, all with big egos, preying constantly on the weak.

Then, in walked Merlin the magician. He practices the darkest religions. Untold riches are his to bestow. He even made me a Barbie Doll once.