czabtyip (mountain sharpstand)

Our czabtyip is famous, throughout many lands, we grow it right here with our own rough bare hands. The leaf it is potent, as salve food and drug, from fibers make clothing rope paper and rug. Smoke ferment or grind it, up into a paste, the sharpstand brings joy to the whole human race. The root when it's boiled can cure many ills, among them weak kidneys, sore-face, and the Chills. Don't give it to children, under age of eight, for they'll bound and leap then stay up way too late. Use it as you would use a cherished rare spice, or as a repellent of vermin, like lice. The czabtyip has been worth its own weight in gold, since nasty king Xerxes got timid, and old. It grows in moonshadow, where winds holiday, right next to first sunrise, on each Wednesday. Its powers are useful, to priest smith and king, no wonder all cultures its praises do sing. Please come now and pick some, be quick on the hip, rejoice in the uses of fine pure czabtyip.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

Zampyut the Sad

The young wife of King Zampyut the Wise had died during childbirth, and he was lonely. His other, grown children were off at different royal courts conducting business and forming alliances; his subjects were happy, housed, and well-provisioned; and the courtier who had been his most outspoken critic had been mistaken for a stag recently, and shot. Not only was the king lonely, he was also bored. His foul mood lifted and great joy flooded his heart upon hearing that a maiden had been spotted in the far reaches of the realm whose beauty outshone that of all others. “Bring her to me,” the king commanded to Thoraei, head of his security detail. “But be gentle, lest her fairness be ruined.” At once the man set to his given task, riding out forthwith and questioning many peasants as to the whereabouts of the mysterious maiden.

Having tracked her down in a hamlet nestled in the dizzying heights of the towering Yiptlong massif, Thoraei had her placed in a carriage and escorted back to the gilded halls of his king. “To where are you taking me?” the maiden asked, to no avail; awed by her radiant loveliness, the men of her escort were unable to look at her, let alone respond. ”The rumors were true,” King Zampyut said with tears running down his cheeks as he greeted the maiden at the outer boundary marker of his capital city. “Please, child, tell me your name.” “Vrida,” the maiden said, her dark hair and fair skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. Without another word, the king dismounted, helped Vrida from her carriage, and asked for her hand in marriage, right there in the dusty road. A wedding! What joy, the commoners said, what good fortune that our king has found a new queen so quickly.

Vrida, however, who had grown up chasing horses and eating wild onions in lush high valleys, began to curse her lot. 'Here I sit,' she thought, 'trapped in a stone tower in a strange city being dressed and poked at by foolish and soft-handed women, and all I want to do is run once more with my ponies.' “What do you desire, my Queen-soon-to-be?” said Zampyut upon composing himself after having seen her the next morning. “I wish only to go home, my King, and live the life of any other high-valley maiden; I miss my horses.” “I shall have your horses brought here. Would that make you smile?” “Please do not, my King – it would kill them to leave their home, just as it is killing me.” At this the King rose up angrily, making many threats and even kicking at a young errand boy who strayed within his reach. “Now that your sadness is known to me, it tarnishes my image of your beauty. As your King, I command you to be happy.” “Please, oh wise sovereign, let me leave again, and return to my family,” Vrida said. “No,” the reply; “you are mine, and shall stay mine.” That night, with a last long look at the cluster of stars to which she as a child would tell her darkest secrets, the beautiful maiden flung herself from her tower window onto the rocks below. Not only was the King lonely once more, his desolation was now saturated with sadness.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

somewhat-royal honeymoon

Thallandia Yündlennd married Reginald Augustus Steele for a second time this past weekend, in Grig, capital of Grigovia. In this small, Central Asian nation, tradition dictates that bride and groom state in the presence of a witness (of their choosing) to uphold and protect the Life, Liberty, and Property of the other person; once they and the witness have signed the Statement of Loving and Voluntary Partnership, the couple is officially married. (Religious organizations are forbidden from interfering with marriage; it is a secular affair. Either party may leave a marriage at any time and for any reason, but most pairs stay hitched because, according to nearly every twosome interviewed for this story, “we wouldn't have wed in the first place if we didn't plan on sticking together.” Grigovia's court system is staunchly egalitarian – in cases of divorce, children older than 13 years can choose which parent to live with whereas younger offspring go to the more psychologically stable person [with the less stable person receiving visitation rights]; property and debt are split equally. Marriage between couples of the same sex has been legal in Grigovia since 1964.)

After signing the necessary documents, the princess and Mr. Steele drank two beers each, smashing the bottles at the bottom of a concrete staircase behind City Hall (where Statements of Partnership are stored). Then, they bicycled two miles to Grig's main train station and purchased second-class tickets to the western city of Pyltagrad. (The Grigovian royal house has enjoyed only symbolic significance since Thallandia's great-grandfather abdicated in 1912 in order to return the right of self-government to his people.) After a few nights at one of Pyltagrad's many fine vineyards, the couple traveled east, to Gar Nuuzsh, where they stayed for a week with Thallandia's parents. (While there, the not-so-newlyweds set up a website with pictures and videos from their first honeymoon, most of which they spent backpacking through California's Sierra Nevada mountain range.) Upon meeting his son-in-law in person for the first time, King Erdogassdt Yündlennd said, merely, “Hrm.”

The wedding comes at an already joyous time for Grigovia. Unemployment is the lowest it's been in four decades, health-care is universal and efficient, and a new robotic hybrid-electric bus system services even the most secluded hamlet. “The Banoyend [Grigovians' name for themselves] are fair, but they can be brutal,” Reginald Steele said. “Throughout their history, they have expelled foreign usurpers and invading armies alike with legendary ferocity while showing kindness and generosity to neighbors in need. The princess and I plan to use our natural-born abilities to improve the lives of as many Grigovians as we can, she with her engineering skills and I with my art. We are easing our way into society humbly and patiently, so as not to stoke anyone's ire.” As part of the somewhat-royal couple's gift to the Grigovian people and in an effort to promote peaceful trade between peoples, they will spend next Spring clearing land mines sowed by Soviet forces in the mountain passes that lead into Afghanistan. Princess Thallandia is expecting twins.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥