Sunday at the Villainschloss

You cannot approach the Maximum Leader without bringing the proper tributes and offerings. A freshly caught dwarf, ripe for flogging, is generally appreciated. A Wagner CD also works well, as the Maximum Leader tends to listen to Wagner while assaulting his chained-up little people.

Armed with neither dwarf nor Wagner, I did, however, bring along my artwork, and among the pieces I brought were a couple samples of the Roman proverb I'd rendered in Chinese: bul-un-shi dae-nam-gyeong mu-so-yong. Since I departed the Villainschloss alive, I can only assume the Maximum Leader found his tribute acceptable. While I have yet to create the huge, frameable calligraphy that will eventually grace the Maximum Leader's bedroom wall, tonight's foretaste of Roman martial humor seems to have stayed the executioner's hand, and so I live to make art another day.

The Villainettes do well, as does the Villainschloss' evil guard dog Maia, whose lithe ebony frame and seemingly friendly demeanor hide the heart of a cold and ruthless killer. We enjoyed a dinner of slaughtered haricots, mutilated tubers, and charred porcine remains slathered in a divine sauce. Dessert was ice cream, as your humble narrator chose to avoid the more healthful option of fruit.

A good time was had by all. With the new soundproofing, the anguished cries of congenitally stunted humans provided a tasteful, almost lyrical, counterpoint to the evening's placid discussion, which ranged across topics as disparate as first grade, American politics, Korean culture, computer technology, and pregnancy.

In the name of the realm!
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