The Lanolinland Propaganda machine was in overdrive. After a delicious breakfast, the (Great) Chieftain paced worriedly up and down the beach. The dreaded Prusilla - a.k.a. the long-missing but cruel stepmother of Baba Yaga a.k.a. the Empress Lanolin of Lanolinland - was churning out fake news as if all the damning details of Captain Biden's child trafficking network, the true motive behind World War III and Hillary Clinton's unredacted emails had been announced as major news stories on CNN and Fox on the same day.
The Great Chieftain had just finished deducing that Prusilla must be receiving outside help to produce all this rot - when Tzipora called him back to the breakfast fire, laughing. With a scowl at being interrupted from his important thoughts, the Great Chieftain returned to the breakfast fire, around which were now eating the two Mordecais and several early-rising Barries who were appreciative of Tzipora's delicious beachside cooking.
In one arm, Tzipora was nursing the now very-much awake and hungry Bubba, and in the other, holding out her "smart" phone. Tzipora held up her phone to show the Chieftain the source of her mirth, and his scowl turned into a look of horror as he realised she had been reading the somewhat-infamous-but-nonetheless-greatly-defamatory LanolinlandLowdown.co.nz.
"Look here," she laughed excitedly. "It says here I'm your mistress."
The Great Chieftain gulped. "Nonsense!" he exclaimed defensively. "Pretty much everything you read on the LanolinlandLowdown - the truth is the opposite!"
"I know!" Tzipora affirmed. "If I were your mistress, why, I'm sure I would have borne you 10 sons by now!" Tzipora's eyes sparkled with delight at the thought, and loyalty for her Great Chieftain.
The Great Chieftain did the math. "Is that even possible?", he asked the beautiful warrioress, forgetting for the moment the awkwardness of the propaganda claim, and being more interested in the logistics.
"Oh yes," explained Tzipora. "Assuming that we give birth every year, and that half of the children I bear you are sons - and obviously, that all are twins", she continued, "It runs in my family," she added, seeing the uncertainty on the Chieftain's face. "I think 10 sons would be a walk in the park!"
"Metaphorically," she assured him.
The Great Chieftain again felt the ring in his pocket, and the same feeling of dread that had filled before filled him once again as he thought about the Unasked Question. "Now would not be appropriate," he told himself. "She would think I am asking her simply because of her genetic disposition for twins."
Back in Lanolinland, Eagle Three, who'd mistakenly taken up a journalism apprenticeship because he thought it would be honest work, was wishing he hadn't on his infrequent breaks from supervising the small army of monkeys who were composing the articles. The Publisher, a hideous-looking woman who appeared to have preceded some of the mummies exhumed from the pyramids last century, seemed to have some sort of vendetta against Mosestaria, and in particular, its Great Leader and his beautiful but loyal warrioress, who also happened to be the female parent who had raised Eagle Three and his brother clones. Whilst the Publisher was not fussy about most stories produced provided they were appropriately disparaging of Mosestaria's favourite couple, some stories were deemed simply too outlandish for even the Lanolinland Lowdown.
Only 3 hours ago, Eagle Three had been forced to report Chimp #358 for his third breach - a science fiction article about a villain named Darth Moses and his children, Princess Tzipora-Leia and her brother Mordecai Skywalker, who were secretly twins yet working together to convert their mean father into a kind one via the sinking of his Barry R Death Island by the discovery and subsequent removal of its plug.
The Publisher had pointed one of her painted talons at poor Chimp #358. "This article is too generous to Princess Tzipora-Leia. It makes out she is too beautiful, and that she is a good and kind lady! Tzipora is a wicked woman! And because this is your third breach..."
Poor Eagle Three was not ready for what happened next. The Lanolinland Lowdown was located at the top of one of the towers in earthquake-prone Lanolinland, because the real estate up high was cheap given the potential consequences in the event of a quake. The Publisher grasped the unfortunate chimp by the scruff of its neck, and cast it from the building.
Shaking, Eagle Three returned to the newsroom to supervise the remaining 999 chimps and serve them Red Bull drinks, to ensure the chimps would keep the articles coming at top speed. "Perhaps I should not report the next breach?" he wondered to himself, in-between thoughts of wishing he would be rescued by his elder, smarter clone-brother, Eagle One.
At that moment, a message came through to his phone, apparently from a chimp named Ruby. "Should I promote the nuptial of the wicked Chieftain Moses the Young and witch Tzipora which would result in 1) many Mozzy's (offspring of Moses and Tzipora) so that they move back to Antarctica far from Rubyland and Eden Island or 2) should I allow them to live nearby unwed with no Mozzy's? Please think this through carefully before replying and tick the appropriate box."
"Ah, this is original," he thought. "A poll for our Lanolinland Lowdown subscribers."
The stress of the job and the wickedness of his employer had taken their toll on his mental faculties, and Eagle Three proceeded to publish the poll to all of the 500 million Lanolinland Lowdown subscribers scattered around the world.