a climber hangs over the edge of a cliff with tiny marhsmallows carrying pitchforks crowding around him.
the apparent king of the marshmallow stands higher up on the cliff, looking angry. One of his soldiers approaches.
King: Has the wretched human fallen to his doom?
Soldier: Not yet, sir.
King: Why not?!
Soldier: He says he doesn't want to fall to his doom, your majesty.
King: Fool! I, your ruler, King of the Marshmallows have ORDERED that the miserable human perish either by falling or skewered and roasted over an open flame.
Soldier: We aren't big enough to skew--
King: I know! But why have you disobeyed me?
Soldier: Well, we really tried to follow your orders sir but he said he doesn't want to die.
King: I DON'T CARE WHAT HE WANTS!
Soldier:...seems kind of rude, sir.
King: (grumbling)
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