|Issue:||Issue 11, August 2001|
It was a sad day for him as he left the school and went to find fame and fortune in The Land. A tear fell from his eye, as it always did.
He wanted to make everyone laugh, that was his aim in life. He would succeed, he knew. This cheered him up, and he went on his way, odd-shaped bag in hand.
As he passed the Old Man, he offered him a sniff of his lapel. The Old Man trudged away, a little damper than when they had met.
He entered the Admiral Bombow, in the hope of a free drink. None was offered, and this made him sad. He offered to perform for the customers, but they just turned and looked away. He wanted to bring pleasure to them all, but he was denied this simple wish.
This made him mad. He tore off his shirt and threw his comedy shoes at the bar. They landed not with a crash, but with a squeak.
He grew more irate as people started laughing at him - in a crazy rage he grabbed a dagger from the thief and made a rush at the maiden. He was a fool, he knew, but he would make people take him seriously.
The maiden looked at him and simply sniggered - instantly, all the energy he had departed him. He visibly drooped. Slowly a wave of laughter passed through the room. He dropped the dagger and gave up.
He was desolate. As a fool, it was his job to make people laugh, but not like this. He had passed through the valley of humour, gone past the mountain of 'mad' and into this distressing realm of 'crazy'.
What was worse was the knowledge that he could never go back. To the citizens of The Land he was nothing more than a crazy fool. He had become THE crazy fool, and that name would stay with him for ever.
With a manic laugh, he left the building.
To this day, Crazyfool still haunts the land - addling the minds of the weak and sending insane stories to online magazines.