Three hours later, the King was loitering around the castle, looking for something to busy himself with. "Fuck, I'm so bored," he grumbled in exasperation. "The kids are at school. Gwo's at work. Impa's at the hospital. Ganon—" Suddenly the King heard an incomprehensible cry and turned around to see Fari rush past him. "Damn, Fari, what was that?!" "Piss off, Your Majesty!" Fari yelled at the top of his lungs. "My... PMSing as usual, I see," the King continued to mutter dejectedly. "Shit, I'm so fucking bored. Nothing good on TV. Nothing good online. Nothing good to eat." As he was about to leave the dining hall, his eyes were drawn to a cinnamon jar standing lonely on the table. A spoon of cinnamon was placed conveniently next to it. In a saner state the King may have been reasonably suspicious about it, but now he was so exhausted from boredom that any opportunity to relieve it for a minute felt like a blessing. "I wonder what ground cinnamon tastes like," said he nonchalantly and put the spoon in his mouth.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, alone and palely loitering?

I saw a strange man with dark glasses loitering near the girls bathroom.

When are those loitering kids going to get out?

We don't want any loiterers about here.

It's not as if an emissary from outer space will have slipped into school uniform and be loitering around seeking a partner.

The prince loitered about all day.

No loitering.

I felt uncomfortable with those kids loitering around in the train.

What's today?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him. "Eh?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder. "What's today, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge. "Today!" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day."