Guard, raise my chair. I can’t see. *More*. Keep going. A little more. That’s good. Attention, subjects, peasants, and scum! There will be NO DESSERT served to *any* of you for the *rest* of my reign if my mind is not returned *immediately*, and in working condition. I *mean* it this time. This is *not* a game. Page, fetch me my sword! This daft stupidity has gone on long enough, and frankly it makes me *most* ill. I hate you *all*, and I’m not going to play anymore. Ah, yes. Thank you. Whoever is found to be in *possession* of my mind will find himself the object of the *direst* consequences imaginable, and I’m not afraid to find someone with a mind to deal with you… arrrrrgh! Page! I need something smaller! I can’t swing this thing! As I was saying, whoever *perpetrated* this dastardly crime, you had better decide, right *now*, whether you want to be punished unreasonably by me, or for *all time* by your starving, dessert- deprived countrymen! Page! I can’t do this. You threaten them. Yes, like so. Fiercer! More passion! Good! Where was I? Ah, yes. Whoever perpetrated this … hmm … yes. I will not permit this *disgusting* act of cowardice to continue to serve as amusement for my friends, and this national embarrassment is *not* what I will be remembered for! Mother! Where is my peach cobbler? What on earth is KEEPING you so long back there? I’m WAITING! Oh yes ... damn you all. Damn you all.

-- Anonymous, May 15, 2002