Every year our household celebrates the summer bogquinox. The week before, there is much cleaning and feasts of cheese in preparation. On the day of the summer bogquinox our high priestess rises early, and lights a candle in the sanctum in preparation. Other members of the house hold ingest copious amounts of prune juice in preparation, though timing is staged to avoid schedule clashes. The high priestess then leads her solemn procession to the sanctum, while casting holy water about with toilet brush aspersorium. ‘Rejoice! For the moment is upon us!’ she cries. ‘The fires of your trial will birth you anew! The beam strikes true. The choir of plumbing answers. The Rite shall be fulfilled. We give this offering of fiber for good harvests, and restoration of balance to the realm!’