One day, Arthur sat pondering in his lush oversized futon, and decided that he was bored with this theocracy that he was running. He decided that it was time to turn over a new leaf, that his dictatorship as king was just not enough. He felt need for something more similar to the girth of 'Caesar'. He would get his land off its mighty arse and rule as a fascist Caesar, only they wouldn't call him Arthur Caesar, he would be known as Arthur Salad of all Britain. Men would quake at his name and at his dish. They would die of scurvy before touching a bowl of Caesar Salad!

Arthur chuckled to himself. He was being silly. How could one little man change such an old and strong system? Not that the change was necessarily that large… they would only have to add a few letters. Arthur scratched his balls; a nasty yet popular habit he had picked up from his knights.

No fascism just wasn't the right change for Britain. Arthur wanted a change that shouted "Ooof", "Ka Zam", and "P-O-W" all at once amid the "OOOOos" of orgasm.

Arthur decided to write down his ideas as he found it easier to express himself in pen than by speaking to the wall. As he picked out a journal, he opted for the green leather bound one, as he described it, "Red is sooooo like way communist."

This is what he wrote:

Dear Diary, or perhaps Journal (I shall discuss it with my royal scribe and get back to you A.S.A.P.),

I have been dealing with feelings of great turmoil. My mind is a boggle and I think that it is affecting my reproductive organs because I am in the mood for a nice long bath with scented candles and rose petals. Perhaps I will release Guinevere from her tower so that she may help me "release" some of these inner anxieties.

Anyways, the kingdom has not yet collapsed but I am soooo incredibly mad at mother for clogging up the lavatory last night. This morning I had my pants all in a twist because I had to use it. Well obviously I got over it as I am now writing to you. No one else would understand my feelings right now but you. Perhaps, if I were musical, I would like to express myself in song form, but I have given up the lyre because it dries up my hands and then makes it painful to practice fighting. Life is so hard! I hate it! Why is my life so hard?

But these are just the least of my problems. Here I sit; trying desperately to come up with a way to put new life into this government we so lovingly call theocracy. Theocracy is so Roman! I want to find a way so as to stand out from the crowd, to be ahead of the edge for once. Perhaps I will take up painting as a way to channel my creativity. I also hear that painting can be used for therapy. I will paint HUGE, MANLY mural on the barrack walls. I think that the barracks could use some more color, they get so depressing during these endless seasons of fog and more fog.

But Alas! I have strayed from my path! Theocracy no longer is able to quench my lust for more power. I no longer feel satisfied with the fact that everyone in my lands bow down and revere my presence, my shadow, even the footsteps I leave behind! Nay. I am exaggerating. But, this just goes to prove what I want.

'Till another Time,

King Arthur of England

P.S. I have been working on my handwriting. I think it has greatly improved since I have begun taking lessons from the new monk from Chesterfieldmeadowdaletown. The last monk just wasn't up to scratch on his calligraphy. He had to be hung well. Quite understandable and unfortunate of course, sadly, there was nothing at all that I could do to prevent it. After all, I am only King.

A/N. I hope everyone noticed the oodles and cadoodles of sarcasm in there! And by everyone, I mean my few loyal readers… I am taking great liberties by assuming that there is possibly even more than "one" reader. Latter Days! Keep on rocking in the free world right?