"King Arthur returns, my loyal ones!" he shouts, riding down Main. His purple pennant burned through in a shower of power line sparks, his left hand resting on a jewel encrusted hilt (until the neighbor's kid knocks off the Burger King crown with a sling shot.)

Tossing gold to the gathered crowd on the street, he smiles and waves to the swarming shadows.

"Long live the King!" a peasant cries, reaching for the coins tossed his way (but the neighbor's kid snatches the foil-wrapped chocolate before the poor old man can.)

Flashing lights of witches chase fools away. A siren frightens his majesty's steed. Two pages help the king put his weapons away and, then, direct him to the coach which will take him to a special chamber, wherein he might contemplate the problems of the world in peace (and the neighbor's kid, having hung up the phone, runs home for dinner.)