In some place that could or should maybe be described as a forest, or not quite a forest as it was riddled with much more shrubs than trees: perhaps we'll call it the plains; There lived a generously over sized man in a house: not quite a house perhaps because it lacked stories, and sizable meaning: let us just refer to it as a gainfully employed hut.
Without describing specifics at length, he was a mailbox of a man, slender legs, disproportionate top, and the kind of gaping mouth that could let out with as much chuckling verbiage as it could take in brandy, food, or air. The bellows of his frame though never studied in detail, were quite certainly the most ambitious set of lungs a body had ever seen. These lungs which brought power to this perpetually stirring, jumping, and rumbling creature, would surely run any small cap wind powered turbine electric companies that setup shop nearby directly into dow status in no time at all. Were they not lungs but rather brain or ambition, certainly we would be upon another twistingly entertaining century with plenty of new exciting to go around. Alas they were lungs and very good lungs that powered a heavy voice.
And so this was the man we start with. And so this is the beginning of the legend of the Green Bowling Ball.