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I have an horrible odor, but I don't mind. You should, it's absolutely repellent. I stink for the good of mankind, to protect everyone on the planet from a brutal end at the hands of my nemesis, the Despot Ghana Xi-Cockalope. He is the second son of the Zealot Ghana Xi-Vagavore, a force so evil that the pure goo essence of hate leeched from his pores like thirty weight motor oil. The hate tastes like an old, rotten rummy, stewing in the gutter; I know, I've swallowed it. I stole the sinister funk of the Zealot Xi-Vagavore, his legacy of vile slop sits deep inside my stomach foot and is now both my prison and my chrysalis. In this case, a great phoenix of pure, seething hate will rise from me and smash from the earth the greatest evil it [the earth, not the phoenix of seething hate] has ever known and it will kill me as it rises. I killed him, Zealot Xi-Vagavore, and stole the slime, and thus carry the weight, the burden, the smell. The licking was the worst part. My name is not important. Okay, it's Ladislas, after the great Hungarian warrior which drove back the vile Cumanian rapists and but really, it doesn't matter. The important thing is that the Despot Ghana Xi-Cockalope, son of the Zealot Xi-Vagavore never be allowed to find and eviscerate me and take back the hateslime secreted away in my stomach foot.