Once, long ago, in a strange land called Tezozomoc, there lived a young man named Michael Tchaghatzbanian. He lived with his family in a wonderful house surrounded by snow-covered palm trees. But Michael was foolish and did not recognize what a lovely existence he led, and day-by-day he became more and more discontented. Finally, when he woke up and was unable to find his alarm clock, he furiously stormed out of his house to search for it, not particularly caring which direction he went in.
After he had walked for a few minutes, he looked behind him and could not see his house through the palm trees. So he decided to press on, since he did not particularly want to return and face interrogations from his mother as to why he had left. He ambled on for an hour or so, until he saw an enormous, burning building. He could hear distant cries of help from within it, so he ran in to try and rescue whoever was vocalizing so very loudly. He ran in the main door, up a large flight of stairs, and into a room in which an old man was heaving books out of a window, and simultaneously yelling for assistance. The old man looked up at him and said, “Come here and help me save these books! Quickly!”