Thirty-Five:

Brian and Spot traveled the coast not long before they heard a howl of despair.

"...unnnhhhhhh...

"...unnnhhhhhh...

"...unnnhhhhhh..."

"Alas, this is no ordinary animal howl," said Spot. "The cry is for the lost love." An ogre with one eye — a Cyclops — stood on the eastern shore of a large bay. On the western shore was a tower.

"A tower?" said Brian. "I can barely see the bay has an other side at all."

"You do not see light at the window?" said Spot. "And at the window, Mademoiselle Princess? Oh, please, do not let her be only the dream."

"...unnnhhhhhh," the Cyclops continued.

"Alas, the song is of the love unfulfilled," said Spot. "It is the haunted serenade of the tortured virtuoso."

"Love unfulfilled?" said Brian. "Sounds more like a wildebeest under torture."

"Well, the understatement in eloquence displays the vulnerability," said Spot. "Which builds the dramatic tension."

"It gets tedious in a hurry," said Brian.

"Nevertheless," said Spot. "I no longer have the true claim to the crown, and am no longer worthy of the fair princess. I will nurture hope in the tortured one-eyed virtuoso to find the true love. To tease and control the anguished monstrosity with the self-conscious anticipation of the overwhelming pleasure. What can possibly go wrong?"