homunculus

my beautiful peons are more than mere fodder. my bishops dart about with cunning and vigor as my rooks lurk behind salavating at the thought of predation. my protean queen oscillates between moments of ludic, joyous dance and bad-tempered skulking. my horses, t. r. chesterton and c. m. groulx, are a pair of brats, and my king is a benevolent dictator with a penchant for french baguettes, norweigen women, and smoked-cheese pigs. I, t. j. malecki, preside over this tableau of wonderful misfits.