Journal entry, 28 Fructidor 224: Judge Minotaur has announced that thirty (30) days from now on this website, he will reveal his Halloween costume for the year. All right, if you insist, he will reveal it now. As Minotaur speaks, Mr. Cornwall will record here the words and then will press “publish” immediately.
“The costume is a gray men’s three-piece suit. It is worn with turquoise-colored moon boots that were taken from an abandoned human corpse. A huge can of bargain-label creamed corn is opened and poured in each pocket or other opening of the suit. It is expected this will take at least a full case of twenty-four cans to complete the job. Also, each boot is overflowing with creamed corn prior to the bare feet being inserted therein. The costume is worn by Mr. Cornwall while Minotaur stays home watching Fantasy Island reruns.”
Journal entry, 2/4/14 (entered 2/5/15): Justice Minotaur and Mr. Cornwall began the evening by playing the classic game Ants in the Pants. Things seemed to be going well until the third and decisive game, when Mr. Cornwall made several brilliant plays consecutively and was obviously on course for winning the game and, therefore, the match. At this point Minotaur picked up the plastic pants and “accidentally” dropped them into a huge cauldron of boiling pine sap.
Turning their attentions to something artistic rather than competitive, the two then decided to make a mosaic. Using fresh pentagonal-shaped goat meat patties, they began arranging these into a pattern, aiming to have something that in the end would look like the main home at the Hermitage in two dimensions. Where the shapes did not tessellate, Minotaur, in one of his trademark displays of zealotry, ladled pine sap into the interstices. This gave the artwork a smooth, refined look but unfortunately caused the entire project to become permanently affixed to the surface of the dining room table. Realizing this, Minotaur became enraged and drew a scimitar sharpened to military grade with which he attempted to destroy the table. Finding that his blade repeatedly was becoming lodged in the wood, he ordered Mr. Cornwall to retrieve a hatchet, with which Cornwall then finished the job by cutting the table into kindling.
The wreckage of the table and the aborted craft was then fed piece by piece into a hot fire that was already going in the stove. The sizzling sound and scent of the flame-licked goat meat caused both Minotaur and Cornwall to become nostalgic. In the end both experienced a full emotional purgation.
Journal entry, 1/25/14: Justice Minotaur visited today at the office of A. Todd Dirtwalls, an azoospermic bookkeeper who has done Minotaur’s annual tax returns since 1981. The fiscal year in New Salem ends January 21 of each even year and January 12 of each odd year, the result of a printing error made in July 1847 by compositor Napoleon Grim Jr., who apparently had gone blind the month before without anyone realizing it. Besides filing in New Salem, this year Minotaur is also filing a return in Guam–“in case I went there that one time after the cough syrup binge,” he says. The most remarkable aspect of the returns that Mr. Cornwall has so far noticed is that in both cases a business expense is being claimed for $100,000 in “imported moist towelettes used by the milkmaid.”