Ever have that one guy you just cannot stand pop back into your life?

The Czar has his, all right. Guess who showed up? Our old college roommate, back when we attended the Marine Academy of St. Petersburg together. Figures the Czar would get stuck with an obnoxious, crazy-drunk underclassman.

Anyway, this was back in 1902 whenъ weѣ werѣe stillъ speaѣking Russianъ likeѣ thisъ. The kid’s name was Roman, and man this kid had problems. Hated the Jewish kids passionately, and it got worse when he started messing around with the Goth kids and their Aleister Crowley crap. The Czar used to leave his room for hours on end, hanging out at the Castle and mostly blowing off classes just to avoid this nitwit.

Anyway, he disappeared for a while—who knows if he even graduated the Academy. One doubts it. But he got into his Mongolian phase where he sent us some goofy letter about turning into a God.

So he turns back up in 1922 at the Castle, saying he has this treasure dumped in the Orkhon River and that he needs, like, $500 to build up an army to go get. He totally trashed the lobby bar, ruined his room, and we got these late night phone calls from some dude named the Bogd Khan. One after the other. Roman was now calling himself Baron Ungern-Sternberg.

Finally, after convincing him we were way too busy to see him (the Czar hung out in our room for two days, eating room service), he wandered off and frankly we saw little of him. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then we got this phone call, mid-afternoon today. Someone is in the lobby, running up a huge tab at the bar, and basically falling off the stool demanding to see us. That the whole thing would be comped. Oh yeah?

By the time we got down, there, whom should we find? Roman, passed out drunk. Anyway, he has this goofy platoon of Chinese slaves out front, squatting in the front lawn. There are about six Mongolian officers, badly stewed, threatening the Tcho-Tchos in the restaurant. Who the hell knows where Volgi is, and Mandy tells us “He’s your problem, not mine.”

Well, we got Sleestak, and the two of us dragged him out and rolled him down the front steps of the Castle. We asked Inetef-Te-Henqet not to let him back in. Sure as shooting, about nine o’clock tonight, we get complaints from some of the Castle guests that Roman is out front whipping the slaves and holding military tribunals. Eventually, he fell asleep under a tree where the Tcho-Tchos did this to him.

This jackass has overstayed his welcome long before we even knew he was here. No, the Czar cannot stand this guy, but he is totally convinced we are his only friend. Some whole crazy “badly treated autocrats” bond. So what do we do? Your thoughts are welcome.

The Czar of Muscovy

Божію Поспѣшествующею Милостію Мы, Дима Грозный Императоръ и Самодержецъ Всероссiйскiй, цѣсарь Московскiй. The Czar was born in the steppes of Russia in 1267, and was cheated out of total control of all Russia upon the death of Boris Mikhailovich, who replaced Alexander Yaroslav Nevsky in 1263. However, in 1283, our Czar was passed over due to a clerical error and the rule of all Russia went to his second cousin Daniil (Даниил Александрович), whom Czar still resents. As a half-hearted apology, the Czar was awarded control over Muscovy, inconveniently located 5,000 miles away just outside Chicago. He now spends his time seething about this and writing about other stuff that bothers him.