“It was a time long ago, the darkest days of the Klingon Empire,” said Worf, leaning in so close over the fire that his beard started to smolder. “It was called the time of nOmacH uP.”
Alexander listened raptly, his eyes wide.
“The Klingon Gods, the PauR’s ThatBe, controlled everything. They refused to allow sufficient funds so that the Klingons could undergo their sacred macH uP ceremony, in which the warrior gains his mighty ridges. Our proud warriors had to face the evil Captain Kirk and his minions with smooth foreheads. The shame so overwhelmed them that they lost in every encounter they had with this human petaQ!” Worf’s eyes shone with fire reflected from his burning beard. “One day it became too much. The mighty Kahless, the only warrior whose forehead was not smooth, rose up and destroyed the Gods.”
Worf leaned back in satisfaction. “They were more trouble than they were worth.”
“The moral of this story is: Do not let any greater PauR interfere with who you are. If so, they will turn you into a bumbling pu-cha!” The Klingon smiled in satisfaction over the intense way Alexander was staring at him. It appeared the boy was interested in the old tales after all. That was good. They contained valuable lessons which he could use in life...
“Father,” cried Alexander. “Your beard is on fire!”
“My forehead macH uP!” shouted Worf, leaping to his feet in alarm. “It’s melting!”
And so ended another fire tale.