I'd always assumed Atogatog was female. You know, like the praying mantis.
Atogatog is not female. The praying mantis eats her mate. On the other hand, Atogatog (Uncle AA as my family calls him) is actually an Atog with some serious, serious issues. While most atogs are by their nature small in stature, Uncle AA is of rather large girth, granting him a base strength greater than most atogs who have recently enjoyed a small snack. However, his power began to go to his head in the late 1980's. He started wearing a crown, and sometimes carried a cloak and dagger with him. At family reunions, while I'm too young to remember this very well, I've heard stories of how he'd bark orders at everyone else while helping himself to all of the pretzels.
Over time, things began to get worse for him -- and for us. His nature, while never quite humble, gave way to more bombast. Then, in the late 1990's, it happened. Cousin Litha was invited over his house for dinner. Little did she know what Uncle AA had been planning. Maybe his request that she bath herself in chicken gravy before hand should have been a clue. And when he opened up the oven door to show her to the guest room, perhaps she should have suspected something. Unfortunately, Cousin Litha wasn't all that bright, and she didn't really see it coming. When she didn't return to her mother's house that night, we began to be worried. After a couple days had passed, and there was no sign of either Uncle AA or Cousin Litha, then we called the police. They discovered what had happened, but being Orcs, they didn't really seem to mind Atogs eating one another. "Ants do it all the time," was their response.
So, to this day, Uncle AA is hiding in some remote mountain village in Montana. But at night, I make sure to lock my doors, and my dreams too often have been interrupted by a branch breaking outside or the wind whistling a bit too loud. For never do I feel entirely safe from the diabolic hunger of my uncle.
And that, friends, is the story of Uncle Atogatog.
