Where should I take this... opinions needed

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Well, I got bored again and simply decided to write in order to force myself out of a writers block. What came from that is something I believe will kick-start my next work since my epic fantasy piece has been stuck in writers block land for a rather long time now. What came out as a result of this can either be considered pure madness and insanity replete with plenty of grammatical errors and such, or a piece of genius depending on how one looks at it. Point being it wound up instead of solving my writers block, it became an outlet for my own brand of humor (which does involve easter eggs, one of which is in this sample.).

Only one question remains, where do I take it from here, and what opinions are there of it.

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A pounding pain echoed through my skull as I stirred, the light searing my eyes as the hood was pulled from my head. The chains binding me in place were all too real, but oddly enough, comforting. Judging from the smell, it was feeding time for those of us in the depths of this dungeon; well... my level of it for all that it mattered.

"Oi, time fer yer meal." I could not help but wince at the sound of the gaoler's voice, or was it the fact that sound was part of the torture I have been enduring for the past however long I have been in this cell. Time goes all funny when your senses and ability to move are taken from you aside from your daily meal. Hell, I think I may have forgotten why I have been put here an eternity ago. "Today is your lucky day, the new king wants you brought up 'fore im."

"So there is a new arse sitting on the royal chamberpot then? Does he s**t gold?" I really couldn't help myself. If this king was like the last however many that have fought for control of this keep, I would be left here as per usual. My patience for royalty is rather absent to say the least.

The gaoler sighed in annoyance, "Aye, dere is a new king." I could make him out now that my eyes were starting to adjust, and I rather wish I hadn't. You see, I dislike portly looking drunkards, and he definitely looked the part, including piss stains on his breeches. He definitely wins my vote for slob of the year. "Bibble, keep watch while I free this sods hands so he kin eat!" So a name I didn't recognize at all. All I could think of is who in their right mind would name their son Bibble. Surely it is a jest I assumed.

I heard the clanging of armor and saw a tall, heavily built individual in full plate rush in and stop at the door, sword drawn "Arrite Bumper, I shall keep watch." His armor shone brightly... perhaps a bit too much so. Whatever he was good at, I knew deep down it had to be polishing armor. What did he use is the question. His tongue, perhaps piss from the chamberpot, the realms may never know. All I know is that I was about to completely lose it. First someone names their son Bibble, and now I know that someone got named Bumper. Also, I had the vague feeling that these two were mentally deficient.

"You know, the last person who fed me, well actually fed me, by hand, with my hands still bound." That is how it had always been done, and for good reason, reasons of which I shan't divulge for now, and yes, maybe I do remember why I was imprisoned. I wasn't going to complain or attempt an escape yet. After all, this new king piqued my curiosity for not following the age old tradition of keeping my hands bound and feeding me by hand, while already in a cell, and I intended to thank him in such a way only I could.

So thus I ate my meal and watched Bibble and Bumper leave, still leaving me unbound and unhooded in my cell. I then awaited my meeting with this 'king'.