This is true.
A deadly power struggle has erupted, between Dolelectro the Quite Evil and Onestar the Incompetant. But once, friends, this company belonged to my family.
This company was a kingdom.
"Father, give me a mouth!"
(If this were a televisory broadcast, and not a blog post, you'd see a big swirly special effect NOW, as the past and present melt together.)
"Ach, now," said the farmer, "I'll strike ye a deal." About him lay a look of defeat; no corn had grown in his field for lo these thirty years. His wife and daughters were rail-thin, and their cottage had no walls.
"We'll take two hundred peices of eight, and ye'll be paying the good lord's tax."
The wizard's face split in two, so unwordly was his grin.
"Old Farmer Poorman, you've got yourself a deal," he said, spitting upon the barren ground, "But I shan't pay you in peices of eight. Nay, we'll use Euros."
"They'll be popularly accepted in a few thousand years!"
The deal was struck, and Old Farmer Poorman and his twelve daughters left the countryside of Yoreland for the seashore. The wizard built his tower upon the lord's town, and grew to love the villagers of Yore. It pained him to see them starve, year after year, and so one day he magically rengineered the cornseed.
The magic corn didn't grow for very long, either, because crop rotation had yet to be invented and the soil was too drained of mana. But one day, a mouse laid paws on some cornseed and devoured it. Verily, no sooner had it finished than a hawk dove upon the vermin and devoured it. The villagers, who hadn't eaten in generations, threw rocks at the hawk and chased it off. Its wing was injured, and it alit upon the mountainside, where a lion pounced upon it. Then the lion suffered from a heart attack, died and decomposed.
"He should have laid of ye olde salt'n'gravy sauce."
The next day, at the very spot where the lion died, a bush sprung up. It lived happily, for many seasons, until the speck of green was spotted against Yore's red and brown pallet. The first man to reach the scene was Herbal Shanks, and he opened up a circus with the bush as the main attraction. "See the amazing green thing!" said his sign. "Only ten euros a head! Twenty for children!"
"Come one, come all, to Shank's fabulous find! It slices, dices, and even cures cancer!"
Mr. Shanks was forced to issue a refund, however, when the magic shrub lifted its roots, entangling a small child. The villagers formed an impromptu angry mob, but the bush tapped into the small child's brain, who calmly explained that the shrub was just reacting to the negative attention bestowed upon it by the crowd, and that the real villan was society.
Boy and bush became the best of friends, and the child's body grew up to become great and strong thanks to carrying his blossom buddy from place to place. The years flew by, and soon, he was a mighty warrior.
"In the name of the spoon, I'll punish you!"
He probably vanquished a dragon, or some such, but when the moment came, the shrubbery claimed all of the credit. The lord of Yore proclaimed him an angel from heaven, and knighted him "Sir Robert Shrubbe I." The men and women of the village rewarded it kindly, and eventually the knight married the lord's daughter, Emiliscaria, who happened to be a pigeon.
And that, dear friends, is the story of Robert Shrub.