By Royal Taster Camden Brazile
The Orb in the Sky is displeased at thy behavior and sins. As it departs over the hill erry nightfall, casting thy hut in darkness and evil, it demands blood as recompense. Henceforth be thy choicest kin to slaughter in the name of the Orb God.
The most useless member of thy clan, thy doghter cannot readeth ‘r writeth, making it less favourable to the Orb. But, ne’ertheless, something hath to be sacrificed and thou won’t really miss her much anyway.
Since thy goat provideth for thy family, its curd and meat may serve valuable to the Orb’s army in the sky. The Orb shall note thy sacrifice and reward thy patience and fortitude with a plentiful harvest and good fortune.
Thy wyfe’s womynsoul proves favourable to the Orb’s liking, and can nourish its ever-hungry belly. At the same tyme, thy wyfe is utterly dispensable, for she can hardly haul a bale of hay without complaining about some such nonsense as “pay” or “rights” or “maybe human sacrifice is a bad thing.” If thy wyfe hath already succumbed to the cholera, just sacrifice thy useless doghter instead.
Thy son beest the fruit of thy loins and thy labor. Since he be so much more valuable than thy doghter, disguise thy doghter as thy son and sacrifice her in his place. But be thee wares: should the Orb uncover thy dishonesty, thy family shall be cast into the darkness for eons.
What could be a more fitting sacrifice to the Orb God than thine own flesh? Think not of the pain or the entrails, but rather of the harvest. Become one with the Orb and consume its pow’r and might!
Camden Brazile hath scrivened several satire articles, is a student of the schoolhouse of the journalisms, and ist the Life and Lacrosse coach for Jared of the House of Leto.