Greetings, mortals, weaklings, and other forms of cowards and fools.

It is I, Lady Hephiastus, Goddess of Smooth Stones. My mate is Chagleen the Mighty, God of Battle Scars. Many a day has he sung the praises of my fertility while dining on the entrails of his enemies. The passions of our couplings are storied legends told throughout the ages. Through the intermingling of our powerful liquids we have created a son beyond compare. We call him Kevin.

And I swear to you now, on the most ferocious forces of the land, be they fire, pestilence, or deadly storms: We shall never visit shame upon the legacy of our blood by having Kevin vaccinated.

For it is true, his body is a source of godly wonder, equal to the task of waging war on germs. His family destiny is manifest in the assurance that the very beef of his boyness may slay all invaders. And yea, our Kevin has the natural powers of a hygienic home. Working wench Astilda The Weary, she of the class of the caves, scrubs our impenetrable fortress of mayhem weekly. Cleanliness is next to mightiness in our house.

Why should we succumb to the wicked lies trumpeted by the tongues of Big Pharma when Kevin’s youthful lips of valor drink daily upon the healing teas that are brewed from the demon carcasses harvested from the depths of the Earth’s crust and purchased at Hole Foods?

We will not be fooled by Big Pharma’s attempts to steal our gold only to undermine the omnipotence of Kevin’s lineage by subjecting him to mind changing or perhaps even deadly side effects that may only be healed (so these deceitful mountebanks claim), by the release of yet greater quantities of gold. They declare that the sorcerers in their employ have labored for years to decree their poisons as true. Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?

The scrolls of the Clan of Jenny reveal the forked deceptions of they who would saw the bones of the foolish, only to swell their bellies with the ill gotten gains of our glorious harvests of enchanted grains.

Who shall you believe? A team of million fold magi, or a mom?

As gods, we stand firm and tall. Kevin shall share his presence with lesser child beings with the freedom and abandon that is the right of his birth. His breath will blow into their nostrils unabated. If they perish, such calamity falls upon the inferiority of their progenitors, reliant upon the concocted potions of they who spit on omnipotence with their vile medicines. No needles of lies shall penetrate his flesh.

Heed my wisdom. I now must leave you. I shall now attend to the assembling of our family repast: The Salad of Immortality.