The turned-key appartements, that were Dowser's pride and joy, were laced with the caustic fumes of his own self-righteous ignomy. Perched atop his morally-predjudiced destrier, he surveyed his kindgom, his own entrenched foothold in the modern ego-centric world.

Berlin, his paunchy pastey neighbour was raising his usual racket over the fence, with the sharp scrape of metal being interrupted by a series of hollow thuds.

"Vindicator of light!" whistled the uncanny barbarian, translucent skin rippling in a flood of senseless mirth, " I've heard of uncanny, but this is rediculous!"

Put at a sour disposition by the interruption of his daily surveyance, Dowser, Lord-mayor of the Appartments, brought his destrier to an easy canter, making his way through the lush jungle vegitation to the partitioning wall that marked the boundary of his territory. Brow furrowed in a desperate attempt at lordly displeasure, he managed to pull off an air of maniac arrogannce instead.

"What for this commotion?" he barked in poorly hidden annoyance, " I demand quiet along the borders, lest you wish to arouse the might of the Appartments!"

"Hack!", coughed the barbarian, as he sent a volatile projectile over the wall, striking the Lord-mayor flush on the forehead, " This makes no sense at all...."


Hmmm....
Mayhaps boredome is not the mother of nicely written prose and plot?