Once upon a time there was a kingdom known as the Buns, named for two bread-shaped hills which the kingdom was based around. It was ruled by the just King Marc, and his wife, Queen Sally. Together they had a single daughter, a princess named Truffles named for her favorite food. Alas, the cooks could never remember whether it was the chocolates or the fungus she adored. I don't actually know, either.

Anyway, there were many men-at-arms in this kingdom, and knights, as well. But the most famous was Sir Adam Brando, also known as Sir Adam of the Buns. He was alright. I mean, he was nothing special, nothing to write home about.

House Brando's sigil was a loaf of bread and he wore it proudly on his coats and shields and china and was even his background image on his Facebook page. Though the kingdom had many soldiers, none were as skilled (read: Lucky) or as cunning (read: Lucky) as Sir Adam of the Buns. He shameless did whatever the royal family, and one day he hoped to marry Princess Truffles. Alas, he was only a knight and she a princess. Her father, the king, knew of Sir Adam of the Buns' longing for his precious daughter and would thus lead Sir Adam of the Buns on. He promised to consider their marriage for this task done and that errand complete, but never did he follow through. Sir Adam was always willing to participate, but never truly caught on to this game that the king and queen played.

Princess Truffles was unaware as well: She always smiled lopsidedly when he entered the throne room, and always said, "We are pleased you've come." She had a penchant for speaking "the royal we." She enjoyed it so much that I doubt she knows the word "I." Or would that sentence be, "She enjoyed it so much that I doubt she knew the word 'I.'?" I was never good at past and present tenses.

I think the first sounds better all things considered, but is it grammatically correct?

Isn't there anyone that can help me?

I—oh...

My dear readers, this is difficult for me to admit but I suppose the time has come to tell you a truth: I am not a very good narrator.

You see, I'm a traveling minstrel summoned to spin yarns and songs about great knights of kingdoms for the fun of it all. I was once a prestigious lawyer or something of the like. But I was also a bit of a drunk. And I liked opium. Mostly a drunk though. Anyway, most of my earnings were spent on my vices and I found myself in a bit of a gambling situation. The situation turned into a problem. Those that I was indebted to thought I should repay them.

Long story short, I received a grievous head injury in a cockfight. Let me explain. I was pitted against a fearsome rooster. A monster of the species, I assure you! It stood no higher than a normal rooster! And its beak was just as sharp as any other beak, I suppose. And its talons, beloved reader! Its talons were as sharp as any normal, healthy rooster could hope to have! I swoon at the memory! It was terrible, dear reader; I barely just survived!

But I digress.

I do that a lot because of the head injury I suffered, along with the addled mind of a booze-hound.

And an opium addict.

And also possibly mad.

But I digress again.

Sir Adam of the Buns was a pious knight, indeed. This day, like many other days preceding it, Sir Adam was summoned before King Marc and his wife, Queen Barbara. Or was it Sally? It was Sally. I had to read back and check again, but it was Queen Sally. Princess Truffles was also there. With flaccid blond hair, a short, squat body, and the puffy cheeks and thin, wide mouth of a frog, she was the loveliest vision Sir Adam of the Buns had ever laid his eyes upon. "We are pleased to greet you again, Sir Adam of the Buns," she said with a tittering voice.

He came in a jack-of-plates brown over an unassuming arming doublet, his thin sword at his left hip. Sir Adam of the Buns bowed when he approached the throne and averted his eyes from the royal family. That is what you're supposed to do, after all. Pretend the royal family is hotter than the sun and that it would burn your face off if you looked at them at all.

Of course, in Sir Adam of the Buns' mind, Princess Truffles was hotter than the sun, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink. (Truth be told, I'm not one-hundred percent certain how a narrator should convey a winking gesture to his readers. I did my best, though. Give me that much, damn you!)

"Rise, Sir Adam of the Buns!" commanded King Marcus. He did. "There's a dragon ravaging the hillsides. I want you to slay him."

"We've totally seen the dragon," Princess Truffles airily intoned.

"Awesome," was Sir Adam of the Buns' reply.

Immediately, Sir Adam of the Buns leapt onto his fatted mule, Lady Gregory. With his handsome, debonair squire in tow, Sir Adam charged into the fray. He could not believe his eyes. There was a dragon ravaging the hillsides! The houses were on fire. The townspeople were panicking and shouting. The cats cleaned themselves in windows warmed by the sun, but they did so in the most frightened of manners! It was as if the cats knew, simply and utterly knew, that this would be the last time they ever did that thing where they licked their inner thighs. Devoted readers, I can tell you without shame that that is how I would spend my last moments were I a cat. It is also most likely how I would attempt to spend my last moments as a human being.

But I digress. Again.

The buns are on fire, Sir Adam of the Buns thought desperately. He became angry. Sir Adam of the Buns despised dragons. They lived in caves, only coming out to set fire to innocent people and somewhat guilty houses. He drew his sword and commanded Lady Gregory to charge.

The fatted mule did! It was such a rush! Lady Gregory moved at such a speed that Sir Adam of the Buns almost—almost—felt his hair move! The dragon saw Sir Adam of the Buns' approach. He reared his serpentine neck and expelled a penchant of flame toward the oncoming knight. Lady Gregory, brave as ever, brayed heroically as he turned around to escape the flame.

Sir Adam calmed Lady Gregory to a halt and decided it was better to proceed on foot. 'Twill be better to proceed on foot, he thought and thus cemented the proof that I am not a liar.

The dragon spouted another penchant of flame, but Sir Adam of the Buns was ready with his bread-sigil shield. He drew his sword and hacked at the nearest part of the dragon. I hope you get a hangnail, he thought wildly as he lashed out against the one of the dragon's toenails.

The dragon was not at all pleased at Sir Adam of the Buns' attempts to make him slightly uncomfortable. The dragon reared again and blew another burst of flame from its maw. Sir Adam of the Buns had only a mere second, but he managed to roll underneath the dragon's belly. He struck upward with his sword. The dragon recoiled, but the damage was done. The beast had a puncture in its belly. Blood trickled from it.

Sir Adam of the Buns decided it was time for the final blow. He leapt with lashed with all his might, but the dragon swung its tail and caught him in the midsection!

Dear reader, Sir Adam of the Buns, our hero and champion, was knocked backward and onto the hard, cruel grass. But it was the perfect diversion! With long-sword drawn, Sir Adam of the Buns' dashing squire leapt and slashed at the wound that Sir Adam of the Buns had created originally. The dragon shrieked and spouted flames into the sky. Smoke billowed from the housetops in black plumes. But the dragon was losing its strength. Sir Adam of the Buns found the strength he needed to stand and fight! He leapt and slashed at the dragon's membranous wing, tearing it. The grass was soon awash with blood.

The dragon could no longer maintain the height and dexterity it knew with two regularly functioning wings. Sir Adam of the Buns attacked again, but was kicked by the dragon's powerful leg. It mattered not: With a sound of steel tearing scales, Sir Adam of the Buns' heroic squire severed the dragon's head from its neck with a powerful and mighty cut. The dragon was dead.

Sir Adam of the Buns collected the dragon's severed head and returned to the castle, riding Lady Gregory proudly. He presented the dragon's head to the king and queen and to the fair Princess Truffles who smiled as though she'd found a juicy beetle near a pond. He only had eyes for her and she hoped she had one for him. He would've hoped for both, but her other eye tended to veer off to the right as though it was not tethered into place correctly.

"We are pleased with your return," Princess Truffles intoned.

"Your Majesties and Your Highness," Sir Adam of the Buns said as he again dropped to one knee and averted his eyes, "the dragon is slain. Alas, the Buns still need time to cool."

"We've fought well," Princess Truffles said. She thought about her words and then tried again. "You've fought well." That was better; and the look on her face meant she knew and was proud of it.

"Bravery comes swift and sure when there is a maiden fair in the warrior's heart," Sir Adam of the Buns waxed poetic. Or would it be, "poetically?" I can never be sure… Language is a confounded thing! Why could I not have remained a lawyer? Oh right: The opium. And the wine (and beer, and mead, and whiskey…)

But I digest.

D'urr—digress.

That's what happens when you you write your stories on an iPhone.

When you write a book, don't do so on an iPhone. Worst haiku ever.

Where was I? Oh, right! The dragon was slain and Sir Adam of the Buns held an audience with the king. He was awaiting his reward, I suppose…

"You've done your kingdom and honor," said King Marc. "Ask what you want and you shall have it."

"Then I ask for the fairest of hands in marriage, and those could only belong to Princess Truffles of House… Uh… Um… A little help?"

"Toffee," the queen said.

"That's disgusting—I mean, yes! I ask for Princess Truffles Toffee's hand in marriage!"

King Marcus wore a large grin on his friendly face. "No!" he jovially replied. "Now leave my castle!"

Sir Adam of the Buns did just that.