Enough of your pontificating on liberal buffoonery in the op-ed section. Tell us what your readers are really interested in: what’s Easter like at Castle Gormogon? Do you send the village kids out for an egg hunt in the castle minefield?
D.T. It may surprise some of us to learn that the primary inhabitants of the Castle celebrate the Easter weekend in various ways. So, this means a jaunt around the Castle.
The Volgi: He will spend it quietly in his private quarters with དགའ་པོ, his pet yeti. There they will reminisce about the old days, sitting quietly on top of Mount Huà Shān (華山), watching Beta tapes of The Lawrence Welk Show and casually biting the heads off mountain shrews. Now, mind you they dont do this on Easter; they just talk about it. Then they go through Volgis extensive Sonny Chiba DVD collection and get plowed on port wine until they are tempted to re-enact some of the fight scenes.
Ghettoputer: Easter is a time to dress up in a large bunny costume, go down to the shopping mall, and let the little kids run up to him for a hug, whereupon he quietly whispers to them terrible, horrifying things to ask their mommies and daddies about. Sometimes, because it is Spring, Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where bursts into peoples tents and screams. He usually spends Easter Sunday morning quietly smashing dyed eggs with his fists.
GorTechie: GorT spends Easter weekend the way he did as a child, playing skull-fetch on top of the Farnak Tower under the green lights of the Tengari Glow. He gathers with what is left of his family, watches the Pan Hrai ceremony on UltraDrive, and contemplates the sameness of extremes until it is time to eat fiberglass. Pretty mundane stuff, we understand. Why, what do you do thats so normal?
The Mandarin: He spends the day hiding eggs where no children will ever find them, and periodically hides children where no one will find them, either. Due to his mastery of dimensional physics, one of his best tricks is to hide an egg inside its own shell. That doesnt seem particularly impressive until you see it from the inside. This year, though, he has one project he hopes to finish perfecting: a unique, invisible ray that manages to eliminate the requisite number of postage stamps from the roll so that you always wind up one short on bill-paying day.
The Czar: Because the Czar is not of the Orthodox faith, he tends to celebrate Easter one week earlier than the two week offset, so that for some reason Easter Sunday winds up being on a Tuesday somehow. The Czar entertains the children by having a pack of wild dogs run down a few serfs. To make it more fair, he usually ties the serfs legs together, otherwise the dogs wind up running all over the place. The younger kids tend to be a little frightened of it all, but the older kids have become entirely desensitized to the savagery of it now.
Dat Ho: Little Dat will spend most of the weekend learning unbroken English in order to say he is sorry for folding the Czars socks with the heel to the left instead of the right. There will probably be a beating, or at least a serious throttling, for some transgression, for verily he knows what he did in the kitchen, when he thought he could pocket an extra parsnip for dessert. With underlings, you know, you must be very strict in their discipline, even it means fabricating accusations against them.
Sleestak: Sleestak will spend the day in Puters room, atoning for borrowing change off the dresser and reading up on first aid in case anything untoward should ever happen to his master. He will doubtless fetch his master scotch every twenty minutes until his master passes out. Then every ten.