Biscuit: “Cmon, cheer me up for saying I have an enormous nose by naming your octuplets.”
Krissa: “Well, the eldest is the proud and ample-bosomed Zak-Kuk, who rules with an iron breast and is hopelessly in love with the blind Donkey Boy of Icktahul-Zik.
She is jealously followed everywhere by her much plainer but even more scheming younger sisters, who were so desperate to beat each other in the race out of my womb that they were born strangling each other with one hand, holding the foot of Zak-Kuk with the other. They are known as Curi Illpay and Cuxi Uarcay.
Their next-younger brother, Titu Manco Capac, is so embarassed by his name that he has elected not to speak his entire life, instead playing dumb messenger boy to his tyrannical brother Quehar Huallpa Yupanqui, who once swung both Curi and Cuxi around the room by their floor-length hair in a show of bravado intended to woo the next door’s daughter, the shy but blossoming Anahuarque, but only succeeding in stripping the already-ugly sisters of their hair and earning their eternal emnity.
Urco and Apo, on the other hand, are two completely flavorless and uninteresting children. Thus, they have both already been pegged to run as joint president in next year’s rigged elections.
But the final, glorious member of this sprawling violent tribe… the Enormous Cava-Chic’ya Chimpu Ocllo-Cuca, who’s actually the bottom FIVE sisters
all rolled into one. She/They merged long ago as she/they conspired to eat her/their way across the top half of the Andes (literally the mountains themselves, mind) and have lived there ever since, as One Enormous Sister. Several may have died in recent years, but she/they’ll bite off your fingers if you try to count, so hungry is/are she/they.”
It was in the telling of this crazy tale of a mad clan of Incans that I realized something: if Biscuit’s and my fantastical workplace creations are anything to base judgement on, my children are going to have some very interesting bedtime stories to sleep on.

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