Rash the warthog was crossing a bridge when he was stopped by someone in Grecian armor.
“¡Halt, hog! Ye shalt not passeth.”
“Our kingdom don’t like you round these parts, pardner.”
“¿Yo? ¿No comprende? You a mangy animal wit sharp tusks. ¿What the fuck?”
Rash drew himself up.
“Hmmph. Well, you don’t have to be rude, sir.”
“O, ¡but I do! ¡The king commands!”
“Well, he must not be a very good king, then.”
The guard walked home with a disillusion that lasted decades.
As for Rash, he returned to the Garden o’ Ava, where he swam in warm mud & feasted grapes.