[ WP ] The King is dying and decides to abdicate his throne before he dies . During the coronation ceremony , he places the crown on a servant 's head and declares him king , rather than one of his two sons .

King Ragnar the Horrible placed his crown upon the head of a servant. 
 
 The two princes were shocked and looked to the king for an explanation. 
 
 `` Yes, it is true. I hereby leave my kingdom to Barthold, my servant. He has been with me my entire life. A truer friend knows no man. And he is better suited to take my crown then either of my brutish children.'' 
 
 Barthold looked up to his master in adoration. 
 
 `` I know what you are questioning my decision to bestow mine most glorious a kingdom to a meager servant. Lo, you will know this is no ordinary servent when you hear of mine most remarkable explanations for mine decision.'' 
 
 The princes fumed, their eyes fixed upon the servant arrogant enough to accept the crown. 
 
 `` In my old age, Barthold has been the greatest servant any king could hope for. He serviced me when I asked for service. He serviced me even when I had already been serviced. He even serviced me whilst servicing another. When I was a child I did n't know what it was to be serviced. But Barthold was the first to service me. I was only 7 years old at the time. Barthold would sneak into my room late at night and service me mightily. Nah have I not been norily serviced yet.'' 
 The two princes exchanged looks of concern. 
 
 Barthold drooled slightly. The two princes were puzzled and looked at one another in disbelief. 
 
 `` I leave my Kingdom to Barthold for his many a service. He served his country in the military. He served his family. He served me supper. He served me lunch. I do n't eat breakfast but if I did I imagine he would have served that to me too. When we player tennis he always preferred to serve. What a mighty serve he did have. He started a consulting business in which he provided customers with a myriad of services. He worked, for a period, serving subpoenas. Once he entered a dance match in which he served many an opponent. He served so much that one might say that he served to serve. Of course he owned several servants himself. And lets not forget that he also serviced me. Mightily, I should add. He would service my needs whenever those needs needed serving. And, of course, when those needs needed serving not the he would serve those needs to be serving no needs. He would knead dough. He once kneed me in the groin. I assure you there are no needs that Barthold ca n't service.'' 
 
 The king placed his hand upon Barthold's shoulder. 
 
 Barthold barked. 
 
 For you see, Barthold was a dog. In his old age, King Ragnar the Horrible had placed his crown upon the head of his pet dog Barthold. The princes recognized the King's ramblings to be the product of nothing more than fever-induced dementia. The king died moments later. It would have been terribly funny if it was n't also so tragic. 
 
 A war of succession followed as the princes battled against one another for control of the kingdom. The amount of pain and suffering inflicted by these great armies far exceeds that which is imaginable. Famine was raped by plague. Pestilence shit on itself. As the two princes met in the final battle, their forces dwindling, a trumpet sound erupted over a nearby hill. Millions of dogs poured onto the battlefield, led by Barthold. 
 
 For you see, the old King Ragnar was not suffering from dementia at all. Instead, Barthold was a magic dog. And all the King's claims were true! Barthold's dog army descended onto the battle. They remaining forces were ripped apart. Child soldiers were humped. Crotches were sniffed to shreds. 
 
 The kingdom of Barthold lasted a thousand years.
