by LucidDreamin
Sir Rastafastahastaman had it all: a crown that stayed on through even the most rigorous liturgical tastings, a staff that hummed with the frequency of pure decadence, and a kingdom where the views were—quite literally—breathtaking from behind. As the King-Priest-Wizard of Bigboodilygobiglon, his only real struggle was deciding which vintage of hard cider paired best with the local scenery. But then the Progenitor-Trifecta showed up. In a biological glitch that could only be described as "family therapy's final boss," Rastafastahastaman’s father, mother, and grandfather have merged into one shimmering, nagging entity. They’ve revoked his crown, turned his magical staff into a piece of chewed-up driftwood, and—worst of all—downgraded his pants to a scratchy, low-thread-count burlap. Cast out of the Spire of Excess and told to "get a real job in accounting," Rastafastahastaman isn't going quietly. Armed with a bottle of Grand Reserve and a club made of disappointment, he’s launching a revolution. His mission? To tour the realm, recruit an army of the most aesthetically gifted rebels in history, and fight his way back to the top. It’s an epic tale of cider, "assets," and filial revenge. Rastafastahastaman is out to reclaim his throne and give his multi-generational parents the cosmic spanking they deserve. The harvest is firm. The cider is flowing. And the revolution is going to be spectacular.
