It came to be that Alexander, brash young son of Phillip, and conqueror of the known world, was given the title “the Great.” And so, the withering mass of people gathered and wished him well and bestowed upon him praise and gifts and pats on the back. But, Alexander, now Alexander the Great, saw the absence in the crowd of no less a person than Diogenes.
Now, this was the time before Diogenes devoted his spare time to honestly searching for men and was instead content to live in a barrel (or a pot, depending upon his inclination and his translator’s disposition) or a field, as the weather dictated. That day, Diogenes was in such a field, warming his grumpy bones, but he saw the mob approaching and laid eyes upon them all, and Alexander among them.
And Alexander and his retinue, with their entourage and hangers-on, approached the field where Diogenes lay, and Alexander spake, because English was weird in olden times. “Diogenes,” he spake, as I told you he would, “I am Alexander the great King. Is there any wish of yours I can grant?”
And Diogenes arched an eyebrow and he also spake, because English was no less weird on the ground in a field, “I am Diogenes the dog. Please move a little out of my light.”
And Alexander raised a hand and said, “let the wish of Diogenes be granted,” and with a whoosh of smoke and some sparkle and a tinkle of magical music, Alexander and hoi entire polloi moved about twenty feet down away from Diogenes, and blocked no more his sun, that his bones could be warmed and rid of grump.
And Diogenes was sore pissed, e’en to forget to spake, and he said, “Shit? What? I could have had anything? I didn’t realize magic stuff was on the table.”
And Alexander chuckled and said, “Were I not Alexander the Great, I would be Diogenes, probably.”
And Diogenes swore cusses and blasphemes aplenty and smote the sea and stuff like that, and Alexander shook his head and went home to his third wife who was not quite named Peristalsis (but almost was).