The crowd is agitated and poised to see the Tripliclops King himself emerge from behind that curtain and deliver himself up to the public opinion. Suddenly there was a silence, it felt like the very air had been sucked from the room in the instant within which the curtain swung back and with great gravity and confidence emerged the man of the hour.
The Tripliclops King stands tall though he be counted among men, and he sprung for that dope fractal-plate armor for all matters of state ceremony. Just dig on this suit for a moment, we’re talking Tidal Boots of the Better Gods +X. where X is defined as a large variable designated by the variance of the gravitational pull of the Moon upon the Earth - real SuperNikes with the official Superswooshes up on them.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, my Lord?” the Chief Botanist ventured,
but the Tripliclops King held up his hand to suggest the lower’s silence.
“You must tell me of the health of our fine Arlequin Roses.” The King intoned.