GarGar, le comte des Deux Chats woke up suddenly. To his chagrin, it was early on a Saturday morning, and he’d been hoping to sleep in. He sneezed once, and felt a pain in his chest that had never been there before. It was something new and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. What is this? He asked himself.
Normally, he’d jump off the bed and hit the ground running, but not today. “Boy!” He shouted at his valet of the bedchamber. “Help me get up!” His limbs felt heavy and stiff. The pain in his chest increased exponentially when he moved. “Help,” he said feebly. “Help!”
Somewhere in another part of the Royal Palace, the prime minister was having a cheery morning. Humming an upbeat melody, he buttered his toast with deliberation. In fact, he was enjoying something of a banquet- fresh fruit, a cheese omelette, cold chicken and champagne. Lifting his fluted glass, he said out loud to no one in particular, “Cheers! Here’s to witchcraft!”