Legends get their first laugh in the same way a good joke gets off the ground—by poking at the ordinary and letting it echo. Take your whoopee cushion: a simple prank on an ancient throne, a splash of sound that catches a king’s ear. That laugh is the seed, a crack in the stone of solemnity. From that crack, stories grow: the curse, the royal giggles, the palace never‑ending mirth. The first laugh is just a wink to history, a reminder that even kings can’t escape a good joke. And once that wink lands, the legend starts to spin, feeding on every chuckle it gathers along the way.

Sure, just slip that squeaky mouse into the throne room and let the nobles hear it. The emperor will be so stunned, he’ll think the mouse’s a prophecy. Then you’ll have a whole new legend about a ruler who could never keep a straight face.