"We, His Most Illustrious Long-eared Majesty Bunzees, Emperor of All Bunnies, Lord of Coneys, Master of Adorable Little Snuffing Noses, doth declare upon this day that, having heard the cause of the rabbit who is calledeth by the name of Snowball, we do hereby granteth his request, ere his incessant ramblings and demands, pressing upon our sane mind, causeth it to go, as his hath heretofore, nuts.
For our infamous, and famous, subject Snowball is not so well knowneth for naught. Upon this glorious planet of bunny civilization there is none who can, as he doth, so constantly and, yea, endlessly quoth on all manner of things, the like of which we, the Imperial Majesty, wisheth not to hear, for, as ye, the good people of this good empire knoweth, His Majesty is most busyeth with most important matters, for His Majesty doth loveth most royally all his subjects and careth (as ceaselessly as the chatter of Snowball) for them all.
Thus, so that we, the Emperor, may returneth to such matters as calleth our most nearly indomitable attention, we hereby granteth that which Snowball hath requested of us. And that which Snowball hath requestedeth of us is this: that this blog, which thou, weary traveller, doth now in thy idleness and by Fate drift upon most languidly, yet most fortuitously, this selfsame blog we, in our most Imperious Long-eared Power, do take into our own paws, that we may, in keeping with our resolve, granteth it unto the paws of the aforementioned Snowball.
With all the solemnity of Our Royal Whiskers, we do giveth this blog unto the possession of Snowball in perpetuity.
His Most Illustrious Long-eared Majesty Bunzees, Emperor of All Bunnies, Lord of Coneys, Master of Adorable Little Snuffing Noses, Lover of Those Nice Orange Vegetables, Glorious Muncher of Grass, Wielder of the Cutest Face Ever, He Who in His Spare Time Doth Be a Ninja Warrior, He Who Hath Mastery Over a Planet, He Who Doth Adore Scratches Between the Ears Most Imperiously, etc."
The cake-eating invaders had finally passed on to some other place, all except for one rabbit: a rabbit wearing a blue hoodie and a name tag which said "Spike". He was still wandering the house as if it were his own.
"Who are you anyway?" asked Angelica.
"And did you capture Yvonne and send her away like a big meanie?" asked Savio. It was an impressive feat that after two or so weeks of Yvonne's absence, Savio still remembered that she existed at all.
"No, no," said Spike. "It's much more complicated than that." He produced a banana out of nowhere and munched on it. He continued speaking with a mouthful of banana. "I'm Yvonne's cousin. Well, not really. Actually... I'm her imaginary friend but real. You get it?"
Angelica and Savio looked at him in such a way that suggested that they had never got anything in either of their lives.
"Well, anyway," continued Spike, "I'm a hero/history buff. And... what did you say? Big meanie? That too. I have weird hair. Black spiky hair, hence the name. My parents weren't very creative. Although they did want to call me Zach. And they tried to sometimes. But then Spike just kinda stuck. Ya know? Yes, this is a history lesson."
"Can't you tell us something useful?" Angelica said in her usual rude style.
"History is useful!" exclaimed Spike/Zach. He bounded towards Angelica and, grabbing her, shook her around. "Do you not care about HISTORY? CARE ABOUT HISTORY!"
"Okay!" squeaked Angelica pathetically.
"I once had an enemy called Brain or something," Spike said suddenly, contemplatively. "But," he added, "that's a story for another time. For today, I'll tell you a story, based off of many lessons from the grand old tale of history."
He hoisted Angelica up and threw her down on the cake-stained sofa. Savio stayed where he was, which was only a foot away from Spike, staring at him intently. Blankly. Admiringly.
"Observe!" Spike demanded. "Or listen, I mean..."