LONG, LONG AGO IN THE FOUNDING OF THE WORLD, when damsels were distressed, knights still dispatched villains with panache and dragons played pinochle, there stood by the River Luhr a particular monks' den nestled snugly in a forested wold just outside of a little town called Willenlochenshavenshire. This tower monkery was named Agabus Abbey and of those that dwelt therein there was the monk Erasmus. One fine, hot summer's day, Erasmus walked out with a small wicker basket to the surrounding forest of Fletchmere to pick mushrooms for the annual Friars' Bash. All day he strolled contentedly along humming Lutheran ditties as he picked the delectable fungi. By eventide he had amassed a fine collection of puffs, rusts and even some of the lingering stinks. But as he was looking to pluck yet another mouth-watering abbot's smutball, he unfortunately stumbled upon an old evil witch lolling in a tub. Miffed that her bath had been disturbed, she caught the poor monk with her evil yellow eye and she cast forth a terrible spell that immediately turned him into a toad. Thus she cursed him to remain in that guise until such a time that a beautiful Princess should come by and with true love bursting within her breast, kiss his warty little face. And then Poof! the spell would be broken and they would run off together and live happily everafter . . . oh no, they can't: he's a monk and took a vow of celibacy. Oh, spit!