Read A Game of Groans: A Sonnet of Slush and Soot for Free Online

… but…”
    “But … but … but what, Headcase? Out with it.”
    “But Summer is coming.”

LOLYTA
    Loly Targetpractice—known to those in the know as Lolyta Tornadobutt, Princess of Duckseventually—regarded the odd dress and asked her handmaiden, Magistrate Illinois, “How in the name of Gods am I supposed to get this Godsdamn thing on?” Comprised entirely of 1" × 2" rectangular rectangles, it was like nothing she had ever seen. The rectangles—which were all gold and covered with numbers and letters that might or might not add up to or spell something—were connected to one another by tiny wires; thus much of Loly’s skin was exposed. Loly felt the dress was too haute couture for the season, but as long as Ivan Drago, the King of Dork and her future husband, approved, her opinion did not matter.
    Once she finally wriggled into the garment, her brother swished into the room and exclaimed, “My, my, my, Loly, you look most fierce.”
    “You think so?” she asked. “Am I showing too much skin? Or maybe not enough?”
    Vladymyr—known to those in the know as Vladymyr of the House Targetpractice, the Zillionth of His Name, King of the Sandals and the Ryebread, Lord of the Who-the-Heck-Knows-How-Many Kingdoms and Protector of the Elves—gave his little sister an intense onceover and said, “No question, Loly, you will be queening out on your wedding. And thank Gods for it.”
    “Why thank Gods ?” she asked. “What’re you so concerned about? I’m the one getting married to that stinky manhorse.”
    “Because,” Vladymyr explained, “manhorses have short lifespans, and when he dies, I will take my rightful place on the throne.”
    The dress was making her itch. Scratching her back, she said, “Okay, explain to me again why you, Vladymyr of the House Targetpractice, the Zillionth of His Name, King of the Sandals and the Ryebread, Lord of the Who-the-Heck-Knows-How-Many-Kingdoms and Protector of the Elves, will succeed Ivan Drago, a full-blooded Dorki and a native of Dork, as the ruler of Dork?”
    “Because, Lolyta Tornadobutt, Princess of Duckseventually, everybody knows that the ruling families throughout Easterrabbit are all about inbreeding—it’s been documented on both the page and the small screen—so when Ivan Drago dies, everybody in Dork will think that you and I are dorking, and according to the Dork constitution, whoever is dorking the Queen in Dork sits on the Dork throne.”
    Loly shook her head dubiously and opined, “I don’t think that’s the exact wording in the constitution. Nor on the page. Nor on the small screen.”
    “That’s my interpretation,” Vladymyr hissed, “and as Vladymyr of the House Targetpractice, the Zillionth of His Name, King of the Sandals and the Ryebread, Lord of the Who-the-Heck-Knows-How-Many Kingdoms and Protector of the Elves, my interpretation is the only interpretation.” Patting his stringy blond mane, he added, “Besides, look at my hair. That’s royal hair if I’ve ever seen it.”
    “It certainly is fabulous,” Loly grunted. “Hey, if you can tear yourself away from yourself, get over here.”
    “Why?”
    “I need to show you something.” She turned to Magistrate Illinois and ordered, “Take a hike, Chicago. Me and big brother need some alone time.” After Illinois departed, Loly repeated, “Get over here.”
    “As you wish, Queen-to-be.” While flitting across the room, he asked, “What is it those Dorkis call their Queens? It’s starts with a K, and they always capitalize it.”
    “KERBANGER.”
    “Right, KERBANGER in caps. Is it true they used to use italics?” Vladymyr asked.
    “Correct,” Loly explained. “But the Dorks’ printing equipment isn’t particularly sophisticated, and their italics always looked lousy, thus the caps.”
    “Got it.”
    “Good. So. In a few days, I’ll be KERBANGER Lolyta. How cool is that? Youngest KERBANGER in Dork history.”
    “That’s wonderful, little sister. Now why did