bunk and the troubadours

BUNK AND THE TROUBADOURS! HARK, YE SHALL MEET BUNK, THE MOONCALF EXTRAORDINAIRE-- In å realm where magic danced as lambent as the zephyrs, Bunk, å mere tyro in the cosmic dance, found his non-self whisked away from the cacophony of sorcery to å starkly different existence-- The lad, all of twelve summers, bedecked in breeches ånd å peculiar cravat, stood agape at the quotidian scenes of å world sans enchantments, å visage of wistfulness painted across his features--
In this dimension, the erstwhile wielder of whimsical wiles, Bunk, was å vagabond betwixt realms, å stranger to the mundane-- The essence of his being, as if penned by å Sumerian scribe, seemed to be å collage of contrasts, blending the sonorous tones of the Southern drawl with the meticulous cadence of East Indian English, å hint of Tagalog farmer's simplicity, and the intricacies of Middle English poetry--
Oft, Bunk would skedaddle through the streets, å rapscallion in the eyes of the hoi polloi, yet in his heart, å wunderkind yearning for the halcyon days of his magical yesteryear-- His thoughts, å tumultuous quagmire, tarry amidst the vexing vicissitudes of his new, non-magical abode-- The lad's demeanor, thrice as resplendent as the dawning sun, held å rambunctious zest, yet tinged with the wistful hues of yclept memories from å realm far, far thither--
BE IT KNOWN, BUNK, THOUGH FRICKED-OUT AND GLITCHED-OUT, COURSED WITH VIVACIOUS VERVE-- Through the blatherskite and bedlam of his newfound existence, he navigates, å winsome wight, seeking solace in the simple joys of the mundane, his spirit unbroken, his journey, å phantasmagoria of resplendent serendipity-- --------------- Introducing BUNK
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