Draven continues sharpening his enchanted daggers in the moonlight. "They should arrive by dawn, My Lord," he says in his typical stoic manner to his King.

"How many men did we lose in The Battle of the Grorikks, Draven? Hundreds? Thousands?!" The King slams his fist onto the table.

"My Lord, please try to contain that anger until the Grorikks arrive. We may need that spark in the heat of battle." Draven smirks as his daggers glow a cyan aura, definitely a trait of bing-bong magic which is of course the source of his power handed down from his ancestors.

Just then a quiet rustle could be heard from the brush nearby their encampment. Draven's eyes widen and lock directly with the King's. "They're here!" Draven exclaims as he holsters his enchanted daggers onto his custom leather utility belt made from Whelp hide his late wife made for him imbuing him with special powers against the Grorikk.

The King aggressively spredds and dies instantly, Draven cries.

Just as Wrinkle worked up enough courage to explain himself, Dherla beat him to it, "So, I heard you finished third at the pot luck." Wrinkle was crushed. He had hoped to get in front of situation, he wanted to look authoritative. He wanted to spin third place from a shameful blight on his reputation to a respectable placement a man could be proud of. As Wrinkle's confidence quickly drained out of him Dherla looked at the floor numbers impatiently. Wrinkle noticed and looked himself. "I only have 40 floors to fix this" Wrinkle thought. He suddenly blurted "Well I heard you let Fredothy have your spread on a third date, I guess 3 is a lucky number." Wrinkle immediately regretted saying this. It was not only a mean thing to say, but stupid also. The atmosphere in was thickening as if too much guar gum had been added to the recipe. Wrinkle desperately wished he had brought his own spread with him.

Word travels fast. I guess we couldn't keep it a secret any longer. I'm glad. It won't be easy and some people won't understand, but I couldn't go on living that lie anymore. It's better this way. They say you always find support from the strangest places, and knowing you and me, I'm sure that will be true. Martha's going to freak at first, but she'll come around. I'm more worried about Terry, he's had enough bad news since he lost his spread and Marge left him. We'll just have to break it to him gently I suppose. My stars, I never thought I'd be fated for this kind of adventure. Lord help us if we lose our spreads, although I have a rich uncle we can ask for help from in a pinch. What was it you said? "A life is only lived if spread evenly, otherwise it's just a life survived." Well I'm so nervous all I can hope for is survival. Maybe that's why God gave me you. Here's to teaching each other to truly live, may our spreads be thick and even from beginning to end. Amen.

I heard he changed is name to Spred. But for real, on the d low, i think he's better than that.

Bro, I mean c'mon dude...I know that your spred has kinda taken the dump but FRIK, dude! I've never seen a spred like this, I mean c'mon man!

Uh oh, caught wind about your spread. I'm so sorry. Sending you lot's of vibes, hopefully re-aligning you're 7th level chakra and attenuating your frequencies back to the universal HUM will do the trick. "Praying" for you. you deserved better anyway. Hey if it's not too sensitive can you give me your ex-spread's LinkedIn?