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Who is the main character of "Aladdin"?

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[quote="Nez"]In a bizarre musing, I wrote this parody.

I hope you enjoy it.

[quote][u]The Infamous Thirdak Sketch[/u]

An Aladdin/Monty Python parody

Inside one of the dilapidated buildings of the very seedy part of Agrabah, there was a woman- very wrinkled with age and missing a few teeth. She, in her shabby clothes, was one that people would go to for...magical needs, be it to have their fortunes told or to buy incredible beasts for whatever reasons, hazardous or not. She would warn them if they had paid in full, but all she truly cared was that her purse would be full. As the sounds of footsteps came down the stairs, she turned her head and smiled, as someone once said, “there is sucker born every minute”.

Let’s watch.

The old shopkeeper turned and there was Mozenrath, the young and very pale ruler of The Land of the Black Sand, standing and he appeared very cross.

“Ma’am,” he said.

“Oh, you’re back,” the old witch observed. “What can I do you?”

“Ma’am, I’m here to complain about the thirdak you sold me less than thirty minutes ago.”

“Oh, yes. The thirdak, very stocky creature.” The woman turned to the sorcerer. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mozenrath waved his hand and with a THUD, a very stiff thirdak landed on the floor, lying on its back. “It’s dead! That’s what’s wrong with it!”

The old woman bent down and looked at it before finally saying, “No, no...It’s just resting.”

Mozenrath stared at the woman, suspiciously. “Restin-,” he sputtered before composing himself, “look, ma’am, I know a dead thirdak when I see one and I’m looking at one right now.”

“No, no, it’s not dead,” the woman insisted. “He’s just resting. Marvelous creature it is. Nice banding on its scales-”

“Banding doesn’t come into it,” Mozenrath snapped. “It’s stone dead.”

The woman was panicking. The young man wasn’t buying it. She continued to bluff.

“No, it’s resting. Definitely resting.”

The sorcerer glared at her. “If it’s dead, then I’ll wake him.” He then bent down and did something rather uncharacteristic of himself.

“HELLO, THIRDAK!” the sorcerer proceeded to shout into the beast’s face (thirdaks don’t seem to have visible ears), “I GOT A NICE TASTY GENIE FOR YOU TO EAT! WAKEY, WAKEY, HUMMUS AND-”

Then the woman “accidentally” kicked the thirdak in the side. “There,” she pointed out in a ‘matter of fact’ voice, “it moved!”

“It did not,” Mozenrath said aghast, “you kicked it!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You kicked it in the side!”

The woman looked at him, indignantly. “Why, I never!”

Mozenrath sighed with frustration as he bent back down and resumed, screaming at the corpse. “WAKEY, WAKEY! HELLO! THIS IS YOUR WAKE-CALL!”

A few swift kicks to the beast’s head later, the teenage sorcerer looked at the woman and, in a smug tone, said “Now that is what I call a DEAD thirdak.”

“No, no,” The woman replied after a short pause. “It’s just...stunned.”

“STUNNED?!?” Mozenrath repeated, appalled.

“Yes,” the woman asserted. “You stunned it as it was waking up. Thirdaks stun very easily-”

“Look, lady,” the sorcerer interrupted, his aggravation evident. “I don’t have time for this. That thirdak is definitely deceased and when I bought it, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being exhausted after a long chase with an imp.”

“Oh,” the woman stammered, thinking, “it’s probably pining...pining for its dimension.”

“PINING for its DIMENSION?!? What that’s supposed to mean?! Look, why did it fall flat on its back when I got home?”

“Oh, thirdaks like sleeping on their backs,” the woman explained. “Now, just look at those claws-”

“Look,” Mozenrath interrupted once more, “I took the liberty of inspecting it when I got home and I found the only reason it was standing up was because its feet were weighed down with anvils, which would also explain why you insisted on taking them with me and why it began sinking in the sand on the way back!”

A long pause ensued as the young man stared poisonously the old woman.

“Oh, well. I had to weigh its feet down; otherwise it would have busted out of its cage and started eating my merchandise-”

“Look, it wouldn’t ‘bust out’ if you ZAPPED it with a LIGHTNING BOLT!” A vein popped out of the sorcerer’s forehead, months of anger management classes about to be in vain. “It’s DEAD!”

“It’s just pining,” the woman sniffed.

“IT’S NOT PINING!” Mozenrath roared. “IT’S PASSED ON! IT’S KICKED THE BUCKET! THIS BEAST IS NO MORE! IT HAS CEASED TO BE! IT HAS MET ITS MAKER! IF ITS FEET WEREN’T WEIGHED DOWN, IT WOULD BE PUSHING UP DAISIES! IT HAS BOUGHT THE FARM! IT’S OFF THE MORTAL COIL AND BEING ATTENDED BY THE SEVEN PUREST VIRGINS ALLAH HAS TO OFFER!”

The young man paused, regaining his breath. It almost looked like that during his rant, his lungs had collapsed. However, he managed to say at least one more sentence.

“This is an EX-thirdak.”

A long dramatic pause ensued as the woman stared at the sorcerer, flushed in the face due to anger and breathlessness.

“I could get you a replacement,” she finally said.

“Yes,” Mozenrath seethed, temper slowly easing, “a replacement would be good.”

The woman briefly vanished into a back room and reappeared. “Sorry, fresh out of thirdaks.”

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. “Figures,” he grumbled.

“I got a rock ifrit,” she offered.

The sorcerer turned his focus back on the woman. “Does it devour magic?”

“Well, no.”

“THEN IT COULD HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A REPLACEMENT, NOW WOULD IT?”

The woman turned at away from him for a moment and smirked. “I know a shop in Paramoor that might have one. Tell them I sent you.”

The sorcerer glared at her and, with a groan of anger and a sigh of defeat, he spun on his heel and marched up the stairs. Soon after, a pair of men, one tall and lean and the other short and paunchy walked down the stairs.

“Say, Lady,” the fat one spoke up, “do you have a...uh, starts with a ‘T’...”

“A thirdak,” the tall lean one sighed, in a jaded, monotone.

“Yeah!”

The woman smiled. Indeed, a sucker was born every minute.[/quote][/quote]

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