actually got him by accident," says screenwriter Leonida Soyben. She is recalling how the RingLord production, which during the making of the first film was extremely tight for funds, managed to acquire the services of knighted Shakespearean actor Sir William MacCallum, one of the most pre-eminent actors in Britain.

"We were doing casting try-outs in London," she says, "and apparently there was a reading just down the hall for this high class period drama called The Spring Lord. I think it's about a turn-of-the-century prep school and some teacher who inspires his students and then dies of cancer, or some silly horseshit like that.  But anyway, Sir William's almost seventy, and his eyesight isn't what it used to be…"

She trails off with a cackle not unlike Peterman's.

"Look, don't tell him, please," Soyben adds with immense seriousness. "We told him he's won four Oscars already. It would just kill him in a very literal sense."

For a refreshing change of pace, Icelandic star Bjorn was brought on board without deception for the lead role of Agrabon the Abrobonian, the dashing young King of Condor City. No stranger to starring in popular roles, Björgensten played the young rogue Leifur Ragnarsson on the popular daytime Icelandic hit  Þjóðleikhúsið BjauÞjóðsiðkeilhsiðs ('Snowdrift Passion').

"I was being drawn to this character of the Agrabon the second I am having the script read to me by the girl I am sleeping with at time, Halldóra Jóhannsdóttir," explains Bjorn. "And story I am finding very quick-moving, like an ice flow. There is king in exile, with the burdens and the responsibilities and the should he going to Condor City and reclaim of the throne. Or he is follow his heart, yes? And pack up his dreams to big city, where he make it to top, maybe, as jazz dancer. I am thinking it was a complex role, and am wanting very much to play it."

"Now I am finding this Peterman is cutting every scene I am in, except scene with the fighting of Kevin Sorbo and the becoming of king with no shirt, but no jazz dancer," he adds, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "But I am maybe seeing Mr. Peterman's point too," he adds hastily. "It is possible the test audiences were hating my character, as he tells me with laughing." He pauses and scratches his mighty dimpled chin. "I do not like this man," he finally says, "but perhaps I will learn to."

To help manage costs, Peterman quickly moved the production to war-ravaged Yugoslavia, where the majority of filming would take place against a backdrop of rubble, shelling and suffocating ash.

Extra help came from the locals, whose tattered rag clothes in a happy coincidence accurately mirrored the fashions of feudal, pre-plumbing times popular in the RingLord books. Gutted, shrapnel-torn tanks were draped in blankets to resemble mountains, and often Peterman would plant a tree or two in the background, then "shake the camera around really fast" to resemble a forest.

Peterman also cut costs by replacing the majority of the cast with digital effects. This was especially evident with the club-footed, hair-lipped cave-mutant Bollus, who travels with Lordo on his quest to get rid of The Only Ring To Rule All of Them.

"Bollus presented a huge challenge for us," says Peterman, "in that we'd originally hired an actor to play him, Harry Circus, but then we realized we'd make a lot more money off this turkey if we had some tie-in toys to shill to the kids. So in the films, we digitally erased Harry's performance and added in this cute, clumsy orange muppet. Of course, with all the production and editing, we never did get around to telling Harry." Peterman lets loose with an evil cackle that shakes the walls. "He took a swing at me opening night. Luckily I travel with bodyguards at all times, and they tasered him unconscious."

Other upset parties were Dave Reese and Osmosis Rose, who played Grabby and Leggobas. After filming had finished, Peterman became worried that the RingLord terminology used in the book  — including the races of cave-midgets and faggot-archers—might upset most audiences. (Written by an immature 17-year-old, RingLord is noted by most scholars as one of the most politically incorrect works ever to be published; for instance, we never learn Agrabon's Horse-Maiden lover's name, as he refers to her only as "bitch," usually followed by "go buy me some smokes.")

Unfortunately, both Reese and Rose referred to each other as faggot-archer and cave-midget throughout the film by these names. In order to correct the problem, Peterman changed the script so that both characters only spoke in a thick, incomprehensible Russian he dubbed "Middle Timesish", in the process erasing every single line of dialogue by either actor. Neither actor was available for comment on the change, though it should be noted that both have, at various times since and completely independently, waited in Peterman's garage and attempted to knife him in the back.

"Taserings for both!" cheers Peterman happily. "Those security guards are worth their weight in muscle."

All tolled, RingLord 1: Lordo Ringfellow & Friends was made for $12,974.06. When released in the winter of 2001, Ringfellow surprised everyone when it became the runaway hit of the season, eventually grossing over $300 million. Tolhouse purists were of course outraged that Peterman had ignored the books almost completely.

"RingLord I really turned a few heads," laughs Peterman. "After that, the studio pretty much gave us a blank check for the sequel, RingLord II: The Big Deuce. It was like: 'we've proven to you we can do this.'"

"We weren't convinced Jack could do it," says White Line's Kenneth Burke. "We felt the first one was probably a fluke. I think we gave him something like $40,000 to make the next two."

To help raise additional funds for RingLord II, Peterman had a brainstorm. Running back to the same editing room where he cut the first RingLord film, Peterman scooped all remaining footage off the floor and taped it back into the movie, extending the running time to some nineteen hours of flubbed takes, actors standing around saying nothing and horses randomly breaking free from their reins and mauling a Yugoslavian extra. (One notable scene is nothing but Agrabon and Leggobas sitting around a forest for twenty-six minutes, hand-rolling cigarettes and trading filthy sex stories while waiting for Peterman to arrive on set.)

Lordo Ringfellow: Extended Cut was born; at $60.00 per box set, it quickly helped to raise the money Peterman needed to make his sequel.

The Big Deuce would eventually break all box office records, proving to White Line that Peterman's films were no fluke; whether or not they were any good, it seemed, they were popular. White Line got the message. For RingLord III: The King's Return, Peterman was reportedly given a $75,000 budget — or the equivalent of a small house in the suburbs.

RingLord had finally made it.