Shivering even under the erstwhile comfort of the satin and 74,000-threadcount Egyptian cotton bedclothes of Prince Valdebill's undulating, woefully underheated Scooby Doo Kiddie Pool waterbed, young Gareth could hear the footsteps of the dark prince approaching. His lithe, young body twitched in anticipatory dread. How had he ever doubted the whispers about the dark desires of the prince? Why had he scoffed openly and even guffawed upon occasion when fellow patrons of The Kiddie Pool Tavern and Foosball Pavilion warned him of the grave perils of skulking in the shadows of Valdebill's foreboding Castle Maine?
The eerily signature clack-clackity-clack-clack-clackity-clack-clack sound of the prince's custom Kenneth Cole Unlisted boots stopped in the hallway just outside the door, and Gareth found himself unable to breathe as he imagined the prince's tragically gnarled hand upon the doorhandle. He pulled himself even tighter underneath the duvet.
Sadly, we may never know what happens to poor Gareth. Unless we preemptorily retain the not-quite-pristine-yet-not-yet-entirely-blackened soul that could one day -- without our intervention -- become Prince Valdebill in Castle Maine, this is how the story may begin ... and the rest of the story may never be told.