[ PI ] The longer a spell takes to invoke , the more potent its effects . A single wizard has been casting a spell for hundreds of years . Today , he is finally done .

The walls glowed like lichens at midnight in the hex chamber. All the magicians of the city of Forrorlr lifted their wands to further illuminate the sight of Gaol the Greatest ( a title he gave himself after meeting Jerzul the Great ). Gaol stood in the center of the room, its domed ceiling lined with mirrors, showcasing the stars and moon above. 
 
 Gaol had sat in that room for nearly a century, focused deeply on some unknown spell, prolonging his lifespan by eating a strict diet of exact proportions of lettuce and bacon. Wizened friends and visitors to Forrorlrl often asked him what his 100 year chant was meant to accomplish, but he dare not speak for fear of interrupting the process, except to say that it was `` hard as a dragon penis.'' 
 
 Tonight, however, the time had come. And sensing the growing excitement of his colleagues, Gaol the Greatest said a final spell-word ( `` Lunaxigis!'' ) and turned to his friends. 
 
 His closest friend, Narfus the Quite Good, asked, `` Gaol, now the time has come. Tell us of your grand spell, that which has required nearly all of your life's energy and much of our kingdom's patience.'' 
 
 Gaol said, `` I just blew up the moon.'' 
 
 The circled assembly stared at him. Narfus thought for a moment, opened his mouth to speak those thoughts, then closed his mouth. Then he tried again and managed a word. 
 
 `` Blew...'' 
 
 `` Up the moon, yep. I've hated the moon since I was a kid, and now it's dead.'' He turned up to the sky and shouted. `` Guess who won that battle, camel dick?!'' 
 
 Jerzul the Great looked up through the windows above, saw the moon still there, standing upon its celestial perch. He timidly ventured, `` I still see --'' 
 
 `` It's far away, give it a few damn seconds.'' 
 
 `` But the moon?'' Narfus said, his quavering voice ricocheting off the chamber walls like arrows against chamber walls. He'd known Gaol since he was a child, but this never crossed -- 
 
 `` The moon,'' Gaol said. `` First off, it's not big at all. You can pinch it between your fingers. Second off, it does n't even use its own light, just borrows light from the son like a chump. Is it ever gon na give light back to the sun? No. Thirdly, it looks boring. Grey with black spots. If I wanted to see something like that every night, I'd be Jerzul's wife.'' 
 
 He lifted a hand. `` Anyone? Anyone?'' 
 
 Daryanis the Decent stepped forward. `` But we need the moon to guide us by night.'' 
 
 `` We live in a civilized age, Daryanis. Just light the nearest torch or Jew.'' 
 
 A old women in a cloak, Ligeria the Mysterious, lifted her hand and said, `` But what of the great feasts to Diana the Huntress?'' 
 
 `` We have holidays all the damn time, Ligeria. Too many as it is. We turned Cronos' birthday into a nondenominational market coupon day.'' 
 
 Narfus, emboldened, stood beside Daryanis. `` But Gaol, the calendars of Forroror all use the moon to demarcate the months.'' 
 
 `` Well... Just use women instead. Except for Ligeria, you know what I'm talking about, right?'' 
 
 He lifted a hand again. `` No one? Come on, I'm giving you clowns gold here.'' 
 
 Narfus the Quite Good sobbed and whined out, `` Giving us gold?'' 
 
 `` Oh, do n't be such a baby.'' 
 
 `` You took away our closest heavenly neighbor, ruined our calendars, our feasts, our evenings in total, all because you think the moon is a boring thief that looks like Jerzul's penis --'' 
 
 `` Which it does n't,'' Jerzul insisted ( Ligeria said nothing ). 
 
 `` And you're taking the opportunity to come off like some sort of tenth-rate Aristophanes. If we're lucky, the Gods might show mercy and fashion us a new one out of pity. I mean, we have n't even brought up what this will do to the tides.'' 
 
 Gaol the Greatest chuckled. `` Jerzul, we live in the city of Forrolorlr on the great island of Atlantis. I'm pretty sure we'll manage.''
