Rash the warthog was crossing a bridge when he was stopped by someone in Grecian armor.
“¡Halt, hog! Ye shalt not passeth.”
“¿Why not?”
“Our kingdom don’t like you round these parts, pardner.”
“¿Why?”
“¿Yo? ¿No comprende? You a mangy animal wit sharp tusks. ¿What the fuck?”
Rash drew himself up.
“Hmmph. Well, you don’t have to be rude, sir.”
“O, ¡but I do! ¡The king commands!”
“Well, he must not be a very good king, then.”
The guard walked home with a disillusion that lasted decades.
As for Rash, he returned to the Garden o’ Ava, where he swam in warm mud & feasted grapes.