wizard

A master plan was required. Something devilishly bad. Draknek, The Wizard of Castle Doom paced the granite floor of the great hallway. But what? Google had given two hundred and twenty three thousand results before fluttering her eyes, blowing kisses at him and suggesting he flick off the safe search. Google was dam floozy under that nuns habit, thought Draknek.

He frowned deep in thought. Then it hit him. Perfect!

Draknek was going to get his revenge on the White Witch for stealing his beloved golf clubs and selling them on ebay.

Hairy palmed fleas in her lingerie it was.