This is the third in a series of letters betwixt the HOA and the snivelling vassals over at. Read the first letter from the HOA here, and a response from the Snivelling Vassals Unit (SVU) here.
It hath been brought to management’s attention that certain fools among thee have seen fit to disparage this goodly Hovel Owners Association (HOA) which reigns so justly o’er our neighbourhood.
This insalubriousness hath necessitated a calling to order of the HOA to formally address these mewling remonstrances, and, King willing, punish those involved. Let it be known that the traitors shall be brought to heel, and the HOA’s justice shall be swift and unforgiving.
First things first, as is custom, and in accordance with HOA bylaws: a roll call. Please state whether you are present or not, and also whether you are a nobleman and therefore have an opinion that matters.
HEAR YE! HEAR YE! I HEREBY CALL TO ORDER THE HOVEL OWNERS ASSOCIATION OF THE MARGRAVATE OF GARTHBROOK.
[Historian, please record that my voice sounded resonant and majestic whilst calling the HOA to order.]
First up on the agenda is administrative matters.
AGENDA ITEM THE FIRST - ADMINISTRATIVE MATTERS
In a previous meeting, HOA members voted to move Plague Body Disposal Day to Tuesday. Unfortunately, our body disposal guy Humbert (please stand up and give a wave, Humbert) is already booked with shield wall duty on Tuesdays, and he’s the only guy with a cart.
Many of you also voted to buy a new corpse cart for Humbert’s apprentice, L’humbert. Clearly you know nothing of Cart Law, for one cannot simply “buy” a new corpse cart. Prototyping, testing, and certifying a cart is a lengthy process which management has neither the means nor the patience to undertake at this tyme.
Therefore, Body Disposal Day shall continue to run on Thursdays to give Humbert enough tyme to recover from any wounds suffered during Tuesday’s shield wall. If L’humbert wants to assist, he can carry a body or two o’er his shoulder (just don’t touch the boils!)
We noticed that some people are painting their hovels mauve. Reminder that only natural colours like dirt, blood, and moss are allowed for hovel sidings, and all fun-coloured dyes must be reserved for my robes.
The resident in 22C installed a window, and I just can’t even. A window? Seriously, in this economy? If thou dost desire to flaunt thy wealth, how about instead of spending it on windows buy us some new masonry work for the northern ramparts. They suffered a direct hit from an enemy trebuchet the other day (the siege is still going on, remember), and it has been a huge pain keeping enemy soldiers from flooding into the breach. Just ask Humbert, for Tuesdays are one of the busiest days for defending the breach.
Absolutely no swimming in the moat! I know it’s hot outside, but unless you were specifically assigned to swim there during Moat Monster feeding tyme, please refrain from doing so. It is of the utmost import that we keep her hungry and eager to feed on any enemies that may fall into her watery domain.
AGENDA ITEM THE SECOND - BLOCK PARTY
The fief’s summer block party is fast approaching, and we’re looking for volunteers. For those of you that don’t remember, this is where we gather in the square and behead a few lucky residents over a chopping block.
We still need volunteers to get beheaded, perform the beheadings, clean up the mess, and bring dessert (no red liquids). Signeth up below.
AGENDA ITEM THE THIRD - RESIDENT COMPLAINTS
Management hath received thy complaints, you ingrateful poltroons. Whilst they were quite bothersome, and frankly they made me want to slap the bedickens out of each of you with my pampered noble palm, in the interest of transparency we shall reply to each in turn.
In response to my assertion that the bakery on Whorehouse Street makes the best bagels, Danwillow Glomwater writes:
Please accept my apologies for not keeping thy lordship apprised. It appears he is not aware that the bakery on Whorehouse Street does not, to wit, bake.
And what proof hast thou of this, Danwillow, you obscure vexation upon my mettle? Hast thou apprenticed as a baker, or perhaps a bagelsmith? Or perhaps you are this fiefdom’s leading authority on baked goods and are fit to judge the quality of said confections? I thought not.
I myself have frequented the bakery on Whorehouse Street and have come away quite relieved by the bageling services offered therein. Clearly thou hast no idea what a bagel is, or else cannot afford one.
Hentch Mann writes:
Received your instructions regarding the witch in 13A. Traveled by night to next village. Spoke with the detestable so-called “wyzard” Randywine. He confirms that she is too powerful to approach and will not take the job.
Randywine is a fool and a coward, Hentch, my boy. Associate not with so-called “wyzards”, especially those who have not paid their HOA dues in four and twenty fortnights.
Also, consider changing thy name to make it less obvious that you are my slave. Perhaps Hentch Mann IV or Geoffrey Nonslave would be more subtle?
On the lovestruck young lyre players strumming chords outside damsels’ balconies in the dead of night — in strict violation of quiet hours — the Maidens’ Interested Lyre Faction (MILF) writes:
While we recognize that some of the lyrists might have been known to pluck a note or two after the town’s bells have indicated quiet hours…we do love them so, particularly when they are good at the lyre and at crooning and occasionally taking a bath. We wonder if there is some compromise that could be struck…
M’ladies, I have never been one to step betwixt a maiden and her lyrist. Do with these besotted crooners as you please. Leave a bribe with my doorman, and I shall let it slide. Just don’t come crying to me when your jealous brother inevitably discovers your affair and murders thy mellifluent lyre-boy in cold blood.
Randywine, “Wyzard Extraordinaire”, writes:
Have you not noticed there is one more dragon o’er your head than usual? Perhaps one more than is controlled by the landed gentry? Perhaps one with extremely healthy bowels and good aim?
Look heavenward and see thy doom being excreted.
Randywine, you senile olde grouse with a stave,
I bade you thrice to keep your dragons out of our HOA’s restricted airspace, and yet you threaten me with drake fæculance from above?
When was the last tyme you paid your HOA fees, anyway? I mean really paid them, with real gold, not gold conjured by alchemy. ‘Twas quite clear to me that thy last payment was the product of alchemical machinations, and not even goode ones at that. I am convinced you are without employ and lack any sort of income. Whatfore doeth a “wyzard” anyway?
Get thy warbirds out of my skies and thy gold in my pocket, or else consider thyself evicted. Maybe then you can move in with your lover in 13A; the decrepit hag is just thy type.
[Historian, please record that I totally pwned Randywine.]
AGENDA ITEM THE LAST - CLOSING COMMENTS
Forsooth, that is all the tyme we have for this week’s HOA meeting, peasants. I won’t be taking any comments because I don’t care what you think. But feel free to leave us a rating at the survey desk on the way out. (Ratings are not anonymous and will be factored into next month’s HOA fees.)
[Historian, please record the names and addresses of all who selected “Not Satisfied.”]
Lord Spearl Talbotshire
Lord of Garthbrook and President, Hovel Owner’s Association
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