But even the completion of this Herculean task could not slake the Baron's boundless thirst for the servile adoration of the rabble. In his desperation, Rudolphstiltskin posed a riddle to the needy Baron.
"I pledge to supply you with a bottomless pit equine effluent fabric, but first you must correctly spell my surname," he proposed with a sly grin. "I'll give you three guesses."
Baron Drumph reluctantly accepted the challenge.
"Your name is" JELLY ANNIE!" Nice try.
"JOLLY ORNERY?" Wrong again.
"I HAVE IT!" the Baron shouted victoriously. "JEWELRY HORNY!! THAT'S YOUR NAME!"
With that, Rudolphstiltskin began to bare his randomly arranged teeth, and dance about wildly like demented leprechaun. In fact, he stamped his clubfoot so hard, that the shaky ground on which he had built his entire sad life opened up into a yawning chasm, which greedily swallowed him whole.
"I never liked that pathetic loser," the Baron was heard to utter under his Tic Tac-infused breath.
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