Know what it's like to be the king of an empire? Yeah, check me the fuck out. Just got back from the Emerald City, won my fifth title as the heavyweight master of the fucking world, add another trophy to the room. I might be able to find it in the mess of other trophies. Maybe. So anyway, I was getting my manservant Horus to clean out my desk, and I find a dusty old journal and... oh man, haha look at this pathetic shit up in front. I can't believe I used to be that pathetic and dickless. Guy couldn't get a hot date to save his fuckin' life. I have a pussy riding up my leg half the time I'm not fightin' off dicks and assholes rubbin' up in my shit. Everyone wants a piece of this, these days. Only time I'm allowed to myself is to shit and sleep. Thirteen franchises. Five of em' are just movies. I have fuckin' action figures and shit, video games, and my own restaurant chain specifically devoted to tacos and hamburgers at the same time. With pizza. Know the guy that managed Google? He's my secretary. Blizzard Entertainment? Valet. Micky D's? Janitor because fuck that place, shit sucks. My beard hairs are valued at five billion dollars per foot, each. My face is being chiseled into the moon. INTO THE MOON MOTHERFUCKER.

My name is God King Sir Rek of Law to you, fatty. Bow with respect.

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