One girl was hired to serve an eccentric elderly gentleman. He asks her: “What will you call me?” “Master, or master, or whatever you wish, sir,” the girl answers. “You must call me “the lord of lords.” What would you call it? - he asks, pointing to his bed. - Bed, or bed, or whatever you like, sir. - You should call this a “resting place.” And this? - asks the gentleman, pointing to his drawers. - Pants, or trousers, or whatever you like, sir. - You should call them “fanfares.” And this? - he asks, pointing to the cat. - Cat, or kitty, or whatever you like, sir. - You should call her “Felicia Whiteface.” What would you call it? - he asks, pointing to the water. - Water, or moisture, or whatever you like, sir. - You should call it “wet mundia”. And this? - he points to the fire. - Fire, or flame, or whatever you like, sir. - You should call it “red rooster.” And this? - He points to his house. - A house, or a mansion, or as you wish, sir. - You should call it “the vastness of heaven.” That same night, the owner is awakened by the frightened cry of the maid: “Lord of lords!” Get off your resting place quickly and put on your headlights and fanfare! White-faced Felicia knocked over the candle, so that if you don’t run after Mocromundia right now, the red rooster will burn your entire mass under heaven.