The wizard hurried down the corridor with his heavy robes rustling and his heavy breath panting. "It is never wise to keep the king waiting" he thought as he pushed on the heavy doors of the king's reception hall.  "Ah wizard.  I almost forgot I sent for you."  The wizard was relieved.

"Tomorrow is the Lord Narrator's birth remembrance day and I would like you to conjure up a special potion as a gift from all of me to him.  Something he can use and enjoy."

The wizard, never slow to appreciate the politics of any situation, began to quickly compose a list of possibilities in his thoughts but not yet speaking them to his liege.

"My Lord" the wizard said slowly as he bowed in a symbolic obedience.  "My god" is what the wizard actually was thinking.   That Lord Narrator needed a potion all right.  He could use about a hundred. He needs one for:

His abysmal taste in clothes:  Does the man even own anything but bed clothes?

His interminable laughter: His "Ahahahaha" that continually interrupts the serious affairs of state that he is forever sticking his nose into.

And that nose:  It has poked into so many places where it didn't belong that it has become a common epithet. "By Dickday's nose" as the commoners now say when they mean to voice some objection to the wise policies of their betters.   

His happy demeanor:  Does he not realize that we are in the darkest of the dark ages?  It is a time of dragons and plagues and black knights.  This is no time for his frivolous injections of humor and, worse, sympathy. 

His irrepressible impulse to talk:  The man has more stories than a Prince has vices.  None of them are quite true and none of them ever end exactly and none of them make any sense to the august assemblies of the royalty or the clergy.  Only the servants seem to understand him.

The wizard realized he didn't know how long he had been thinking about this.  He looked at the king whose head was nodding slowly and whose eyes were half closed.  The wizard decided it was time to speak.

"Since Your Grace places such value on the contributions of the Lord Narrator I will conjure a potion that will energize him in his efforts for the benefit of all."

"Well thought wizard" responded the King. "A balm for my Lord Narrator it is.  Make is so."

The wizard bowed and retreated from the chamber.  As he strode down the corridor, the wizard already knew the two ingredients he would use:  viagra that is taken from the sweat of a rutting hedgehog and caffeine from the coffee plant.

 "And what will I call it? mused the wizard.  "How about just "Dickday." 

"Ah this wizard stuff is just too easy" he thought to himself and began to improvise on a favorite old tune on his way back to his chamber.

It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you and  that bottle of goo
"Dickday" will make me feel alright

(Happy Birthday old darling)