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Ask Evil Princess Sara |
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 Well, my loathsome little legionnaires, I won't ask if you missed your empress of earth, heaven, and all the hells while she was away - after all, a ruler who has to ask for the mindless adulation of the people instead of commanding it by virtue of her own self-evident superiority isn't worthy of it in the first place, n'est ce pas? Merely rest assured in your trembling little peasant hindbrains that your absolute tyrant-for-life has returned and is ready to once more shepherd you through your miserable little difficulties like Solomon in spike heels and red satin. I am unbelievably better than the likes of you deserve, and never forget it...or suffer the (unspeakably torturous) consequences for doing so. In fact, I'm so magnanimous that I'll even repeat the rules of the column for you:
- I, Evil Princess Sara, am the most astonishingly cerebrally gifted individual ever to spark a synapse that ever has been, ever is, and ever will be, and whosoever doubts it is as spam-skulled as I am cunning. That said, though, I'm not a licensed and board-certified Doctor of Adviceopathology - I just play one in this column. This has no bearing on the jewel-like perfection of any advice I might give you, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to keep that in mind.
- And because I'm every bit as generous as I am radiant and intellectual, I hereby present to you a lovely matched set: not only the gift of my matchless counsel, the price of which is above rubies, but also full and complete responsibility for whatever happens to you as a consequence of following said counsel, for good or for ill. No refunds, all exchanges are final.
- Your letters come to me like base metals, but through the alchemy of my grammatical expertise, they are transfigured and become as purest gold. In other words, expect that your embarrassingly crude messages will be edited for length, spelling, and overall clarity. There's only so much even a genius like myself can do, though - if you send me a letter that wasn't important enough to be run through a spellchecker first, then it's not important enough for one such as myself to bother looking at, much less replying to in this column.
- If you wrote to the Princess of Punishment expecting the tender-hearted and loving advice of a merciful angel, well...there's a kick-ass bridge in Corneria that's for sale, interested?
- ONE-TIME BONUS RULE! To the pestilential little individual who persists in plaguing the entire 8-Bit crew with messages from SomeoneLikesYou.com: if you really liked any of us, you wouldn't say so by deluging us with invitations to a site that might as well be named SomeoneWantsYourE-MailAddressForTheirSpamMailingList.com. At any rate, by now we're well aware that someone likes us - we just don't care. Consider the message returned to sender.
There, think of all of that as my little way of saying that I missed you too. Or missed having people to tongue-scrub the soles of my dainty little slippers, anyway. See? Evil Princess Sara really does need you after all, just as much as the author of this letter needs a stern slap upside the head:
"Dear Evil Princess Sara,
I just can't seem to find the right girl for me. I look and I look, but all
my attempts at asking other girls out just don't work. I can never just find
out if anyone likes me. Is there something you can tell me to help me know if
any girls like me, like signals and stuff, or am I just one of those guys who
dies of loneliness at age twenty? Please help me. I'm fifteen and I've only had three
girlfriends my entire LIFE.
-- the Littlest Medicaid Recipient"
Sometimes, my nameless little friend, they say one must be cruel to be kind. If that's true, serf spawn so lowly even your parents didn't view you as worthy of a name, then your friend and overfiend EPS is about to be very, very kind to you indeed.
I will put this bluntly as a truncheon to the back of the skull: at fifteen, what you're feeling is not love but rampaging weasel lust, and the sooner you understand and accept this, the easier life will become for you. At fifteen, three girlfriends is nothing to sneeze at, especially since Evil Princess Sara knows people of twenty and older (amazing how modern medical technology can extend the lifespan even of geezers that age, isn't it?), each of them vastly more appealing than you in every possible way, who haven't had any boyfriends or girlfriends, much less three. And finally, with spelling and punctuation as terrible as yours was in the original version of this letter, you'd be much better off paying more attention to your English classes instead of dwelling on what a hollow and lonely death awaits you at the nigh-corpselike age of twenty. An advanced case of cringing neediness like yours is unattractive enough to begin with - don't compound your disadvantage by being a functional illiterate on top of it, or the only girl who'll be interested in you at all is the hiring night manager at Taco Bell.
"Dear Evil Princess Sara,
I am currently taking a Japanese class at a local college, and although it's fun, the other
students in the class have an irritating habit of not only questioning MY inherent
brilliance, but that of the sensei! On more than one occasion, certain people (who
will remain anonymous) have corrected (or thought they were correcting)
[Professor's name removed to protect the presumably innocent]-sensei and held up the
class for those of us without learning disabilities. How can I keep these amoeba wannabes
from disrupting my studies?
-- Equally Anonymous EPS Reader"
Hmm. College-aged, presumptuous, irritating beyond belief, delusions of expertise in the field of all things Japanese...sounds like you've got an infestation of fanboys or fangirls, EAEPSR. Since nobody's devised an efficient and effective Fanboy- or Fangirl-B-Gon spray just yet (I can't think why, the market is simply screaming for one), this strategy may be your only way of exterminating the hive.
First, invent an anime name, the more absurd the better. I like La Irresistible Boy Kuteshi 1/2, myself, but tinker with the Anime Title Generator if you'd prefer something else. After you get a good one, make up a plot to go with it - and again, since this is supposed to be anime, absurdity is the key to apparent authenticity. A slapstick romantic dramedy about a team of magical catgirl mecha pilots and the half-demon martial artist high school student who loves them in post-apocalyptic Japan sounds convincing, doesn't it? Discuss this obscure classic of Asian animation with the fan-pests in your class in knowing tones that imply anybody worth their San-X keychain knows all about it. Fan-creature nature being what it is, they'll be incapable of losing nerd cred by admitting that they've never heard of it, but you'll have filled them with a desire to see it that burns hotter than a wasabi jockstrap.
Now that you've laid the bait, invite the group to a Saturday night screening of a bootleg fansub ripped straight from Japanese television - they're otaku, they're not going to have any conflicting plans. Once you've got them safely sealed in the "viewing room", it's time to whip out your favorite pointy instrument of exotic Eastern doom, scream "anata no gosenzo sama ni kao o awase rare masuka", and get to eviscerating in a Yoshiaki Kawajiri stylee. Nobody will particularly miss them, and if you're lucky, your grateful sensei will lavish heaping scads of extra credit upon you in appreciation. Dou-itashimashite, EAEPSR, and ganbatte!
"On behalf of my hypnotic mind control master, I would like to introduce Miss
E.P. Sara to the very classy and charming Count Dracula. Master has shown an
interest in Miss Sara's taste for power, control and the odd session in the
torture chambers. He humbly invites Miss Sara to attend an evening ballroom
dance next month. Many high society types will be attending as well, due to
Master's reputation for grand parties. Master is sure Miss Sara will approve
of the vintage wines that will be served, and will personally take Miss Sara
on a tour of the castle's genuine Inquisition-era dungeon.
Master also directs me to assure you of Master's entirely well-mannered
approach to romance. Master will not force Miss Sara into any sudden
relationships, even if Miss Sara is bound by Master's iron will and large,
heavy dungeon chains.
With that aside, Master's interests include classical music and dance,
ruthless subjugation of villagers and the Pokemon card game...no! Master! I
sorry! Don't hurt anymore! Master likes games of chess; he is a chess
prodigy. Many chess masters have surrendered in utter subservience when
Master merely LOOKED in their direction.
Master is an excellent host and a real lady KILLER. Ahem: who can beat the
perfect manners and that Eastern European accent that's to DIE for? Speaking
of which, being anti-living has many benefits. Don't be fooled by the media
people, they're just jealous of the eternal youthful glow and all.
Master has excellent credentials. He has taken on several generations of
nasty whip-wielding Belmonts and returned to enslave the country in darkness
each sequel (Master disapproves of the Belmont family's crude brand of
BDSM). Master is also well versed in the arcane, and commands me to hint at the
following: shapeshifters can also change the appearance and proportions of
ONE part of their body at a time, nudge nudge wink.
If Miss Sara finds Master to her liking, Master requests but one date to
coerce...ahem, convince Miss Sara to take the plunge. Perhaps a night spent
in the moonlit graveyard with long, LONG amounts of time spent staring into
his hypnotizing mind control gaze...ow! Master, not the braziers, please! I
be good! I mean, long time staring into each other's eyes. Master has very
enchanting eyes.
Master hopes Miss Sara will graciously accept his invitation and eagerly
awaits Miss Sara's reply. Wear black.
-- Yet Another Unnamed Writer."
Hmm. I'm afraid I'm not interested, YAUW (is that a name or a scream of agony?), but it definitely sounds like you are. Just look at the glowing way you speak of your master - hypnotic gaze, youthful good looks, commanding presence, tackily-referenced anatomical specialties - that's not just the brainwashing and fear of pain speaking, I bet. Personally I find that whole pseudo-Slavic goth leather daddy thing to be tres passe, but it's clearly working its razor-licking, Christopher Lee-worshipping mojo on you. The jackboot of unrequited longing is stomping your face under its heel, YAUW, and it's time to get licking. You can't live in silence any longer - after all, who knows when the next vampire-fixated Belmont will come along and steal either your master's un-life - or his heart? Think about it, YAUW. The only people that interested in a vampire's various organs are usually more interested in la petite morte than the other one, if you get my meaning.
You've got to tell your master how you feel, YAUW, and tell him soon, otherwise all those nights in black satin will slip out of your manacled grasp. To paraphrase another expert on the undead and their love lives, the children of the night - what beautiful music they could make together.
"Dear Evil Princess Sara,
I am disappointed that someone who is so clearly on a road to ruin as you is ignoring
sound advice that will save you so much grief. You really should pay more
attention, that you should.
I have also left behind a blood-ridden road, and I still regret the
happiness that I took away from people. Even though I was trying to build a
greater country, with my sword I took the happiness of hundreds.
I still pay my penance today. You probably won't understand what I'm
saying until you've learned for yourself, so learn you should. Your deeds
will eventually come back to you. No matter how much you plan ahead, they
will. Whatever you build in this life, you can't take with you when you
die. And even if you live forever, you'll eventually grow bored of your
conquests, that you will.
But no matter where you end up, remember that it's never too late for
penance, as long as you still live.
-- Himura Kenshin"
Yawn. Don't you have a dead girlfriend to go cry over, prettyboy? And the Yoda-speak, what is it with? Begun to be suspicious that you were hopped up on warm sake while writing this, this Evil Princess Sara has. Nice calligraphy, though...for a rice wine junkie. No wonder you had to give up the sword - the DTs must've just murdered your zanshin. Kinda like your wife. Is "Battousai" Japanese for "O.J."?
Anyway, ninjin-top, don't try to drag me along to your little Mass Murderers Anonymous pity party. Just because you can't successfully distinguish between an enemy and the person who fixes you dinner doesn't mean that the rest of us are equally as clumsy at taking on the world by means of merciless and efficient carnage. But it doesn't have to be this way, you know. Just as it's never too late to pull the Boy Scout routine to get into heaven, so is it never too late to get back into the game like you never left. Get off the joy juice, make sure your next girlfriend wears plenty of padded chest armor under her kimono, and for the love of Tsumukari, get your vision checked sometime, okay? You'll be back on your feet and slaughtering your enemies by the thousands in no time flat. All I ask as a token of gratitude is a nice pagoda raised in my honor somewhere - built on the bodies of your fallen enemies, of course.
Hoping that you'll go forth and sin some more,
Evil Princess Sara
Do you have a question for Evil Princess Sara? Drop her a line at 
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