Attaching to him the golden collar and length of chain which had been made a gift to me by the Baron von Luxemburg, rendered in thanks for my assistance in investigating the author of several amorous letters found hidden in the chamber of his youngest daughter Priscilla. By careful application of the scientific principles of investigation along with the floundering and entirely accidental assistance of the inassuagable appetite of Confucius; found missing in the still of the night from his nest at the foot of my bed and discovered only when a methodical search of the Baron's pantry was made.
As I berated the bed-wary burglar on his comportment, the unmistakable sound of the lotharious lyrics of Don Juan de Austria floated in upon gentle breeze. With careful steps I came upon the young Baroness in convocation with the Younger Duke of Bavaria, who had been courting her in secret. To the great joy of the parents the two were fast wed and in reward for my invaluable service, the Baron von Luxemburg presented the golden chain to me with a sly wink and the impetus that I might in the future keep my victual-obsessed vizier close to hand.
As I clasped the collar about him he reached his arms up to me and mewled in his way, affecting a look of such great distress and yearning that I could not but smile and obtain for him the object of his desires, a great golden wig of curled silken locks without which Confucius will not be deign to be seen and the withholding of which sends him into the most frightful of tantrums.
"We go forth to meet the President Arthur, conduct yourself with dignity and perhaps you shall have a chop." I said most generously, and understanding only the word "Chop" Confucius began to rub his great bloated belly most earnestly, reducing me to peals of laughter and earning the piccolo pantaloon a generous pat upon the head.
The President of this venerable Republic, Chester A. Arthur, is among the greatest of men and composes himself to such a degree that even the noblest Kings of Europe, who may trace their lineage to the days of Augustan Rome, are forced to admit that the wealth and dignity which the Great Government bestows upon all men has resulted in a new breed, free from the pathetic despondency of the European peasant and upon whom even they must gaze with quiet awe and respect.
His language is of the highest class, his education not lacking in any degree, his bearing erect and stolid, why even his great mutton chops and mustachio are the envy of all men of distinction and in his manner he is emulated by the smart set of American society. His artful circumlocutions steal the spiel from the driest of wits. His great velveteen frock coats are a model to all of the decadent costumiers of gay Paris. And his wife, such a fine beauty of tender age, disciplined by Arthur himself since her infancy in the proper manners and etiquette befitting a man of his stature.
Why it is said that he bestowed upon her parents her first Babe's Carriage in a careful investment which wealthy men of sobriety have taken to note. Even the sarcastic satirist Samuel Clemens has been forced to abandon his well-honed skeptic's quill and grudgingly admit that President Arthur is, "Of singular note, the finest of men; he shall be remembered through ages yet uncovered."
Upon arriving at the Alabaster Palace with Confucius near-to-hand I was met by the Secretary of War, R.T. Lincoln. The first male descendant of the past President and salvation of our Great Republic Abraham, R.T. Lincoln was girded up in his great suit of plate mail, the mace in his right hand of such immense weight that none but a cyclopean giant such as himself might have manipulated it with anything but the greatest of difficulties. Peering at me for a moment with his great red eye (the other having been taken by the fine gentleman, Colonel Stuart, in singular combat for the bridge at Fredericksburg) he soon recognized me and was heard to exclaim in his rough yet resounding voice, "Kermit Van Rensselaer!" He announced with such enthusiasm that the very panes of glass upon the windows were seen to tremble,
"Arturius sought thee, and I had been bade,
to seek out thine body beneath fen and glade,
for thou art of nature most valiant and brave,
and the President seekest to combat a knave.
But here standest thou, my task is complete,
let us off to Fine Chester upon winged feet!"
I bowed my head low that I might with slyness conceal the smirk upon my face for the Secretary affects a manner of speech most queer, though of certainty there is no more courageous soul and once did I witness him split a man in twain with his great broadsword for an offense quite trivial.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
Ignore the hype. Find out how these games will likely go right or wrong.