Two monks are travelling through the Transylvanian countryside, and its getting late, and they need a place to stay for the evening. Their host, Vlad the Impaler, was of bad repute, but they consented to stay with him instead of trying their luck with the wolves.
So anyway, Vlad being Vlad, he puts the eternal question to the two monks, "How'm I doing?" It's part an earnest question, and part a dare. Would they be honest with him, or would they fib their asses off in hopes of not getting impaled. Because impaling sounds really bad, you know?
So anyway, the first monk kisses Vlad's ass. Such a lovely place he has here. His peasants seem so loyal. Everyone is so quiet and well-mannered and dedicated. Obviously Vlad must be doing a super bang-up job of things, because he has a lovely place, and, and looks so great in those trousers. In other words, out of fear of his life, or maybe even sympathy with the devil, the first friar laid it on thick.
The second monk took the totally opposite tack. How dare Vlad even ask the question, when he must know full well how he treated the people of his province? How, if they seemed so loyal and mannerly, it was because they feared for their lives? How they lived a life that was less than humans should expect, and that he, Vlad, was to blame and should fear for his soul.
Who did Vlad impale?
The answer is supposed to suggest a lot about one's relationship to authority. Most people at least understand he had to impale one of them--minimum.
Me--I think he impaled the guy who told the truth. Right in front of the guy who kissed ass. Because it was expected. And the monk who kissed ass breathed a momentary sigh of relief before he was brutally disemboweled.
Because Vlad the Impaler, is why.
Lesson: Know your motherfucker.
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