Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Prunus. He was nice, generally speaking, because "nice" was what courtesy dictated of him, growing up as a young boy of unconventional thoughts in a society of conventionalism. But if Prunus had one fault, one itsy bitsy tiny fault, it would have to be his wit. Prunus was incredibly smart, with a tongue as sharp as a dagger from the heart of a dragon. And wherever Prunus went, he was ostracized, out of the shallow premise of sheer intelligence. It was the era where people believed pus helped drive away bad spirits, and multiple donations to various bloat-headed, beer-bellied sado-masochists who claimed they held the key to the other key of the key of The Key to the salvation of mankind made you go to heaven to claim your prize of - tadah! - a free-ride to Boring Land, salvation included (taxes-exclusive). Of course, Prunus, being a lad way too far ahead of his time, merely rolled his eyes at their sentiments. The people, in return, roll their eyes at his eye-rolling at them.

Prunus, then, being such an outcast in a society where he feels less than obliged to be nice and frumpy and cuddly and sweet, decided to set off on his own. (To make up for the seeming lack of melancholic goodbyes to his father and mother and twenty sisters and forever-true love, one must just assume that Prunus was an orphan. In fact, forget assumptions. Prunus was an orphan. No one ever really knew who his parents were. According to stories, Prunus just appeared one day inside the finest hut in the village. He came out full-grown, and no one knew who he really was.) Prunus only wanted to have a bit of fresh air, a vacation away from the pitiful thoughts that often surrounded him every time he would try to think, back at his hometown. He wanted a deviation from the catatonic, somniferous monotony that everyone around him provided. The redundancy at this point was necessary, because Prunus was really just one more syllable away from dropping dead and sleepy for a thousand years, out of boredom.

His hopes weren't high, however. Not really.

Little did he know that a simple mistake of tripping over a crumb of bread could lead him to a wonderful, colorfully demented life with a bunch of cataclysmic idiots who were too smart for their own good.