Karen Nathan was excited. Tonight was going to be her first time attending an official meeting of the Florida Underground Club of Karens & Alternate Spellings -- F.U.C.K.A.S. -- a support group and social club for women named Karen and other spelling variations thereof. She had on her finest casino carpet design muumuu and matching velour handbag, smartly accented with a purple sunhat from the dollar store. Finally I get to spend some quality time with women of culture, she mused.

As Karen entered the meeting hall, she was greeted by a cheerful woman who handed her a "My name is ___" sticker and sharpie.

"What's this for?" Karen Nathan asked. "Ain't we all named Karen here?"

"Oh yes, but some of us spell it a standard way and others have more, uh, creative spins on the old standard. It's very important to have your spelling displayed. You'll see when you get inside the ball room."

Our heroine Karen Nathan obliged and wrote KAREN in her neatest handwriting, then affixed the sticker over her bosom. As she neared the ballroom entrance, she heard the hustle and bustle of hundreds of Karens (and as she would soon discover, Carens, Karyns, Kerens, Karrens, Karennes, and even a Quran) tittering and laughing loudly. Once inside she immediately espied a buffet table. They better have shrimp cocktails, she mused, I loves me some shrimp.

While piling her plate high with h'ors d'oeuvres, Karen Nathan noticed three timid ladies huddled together whispering in harsh tones. They sounded a bit frightened and were staring intently at Karen Nathan. Karen frowned.

"You bitches got a problem with my horse doovers? I ain't ate lunch today, I'm hungry, a'ight?" Karen noticed their name tags. One was a Caren, one a Caron, and one a Caryn. Weird, Karen mused, I never noticed how odd it looks to spell Karen with a C. Glad mine is spelt the normal way.

Just then a tall, confident looking woman approached her from the side, holding out her hand. "Hi! My name's Karen Kentry. You're new here, so you should know that we have a pecking order of Karens. Those of us who spell it K-A-R-E-N are at the top of the heap, so to speak." Then Karen Kentry bent down low and whispered, "And each meeting we sacrifice one among us with a lesser spelling. Usually someone with a C, but last week the sacrifice was an unfortunate Kerrynn."

Karen Nathan chewed and swallowed her shrimp before asking the most natural question: "What for?"

Karen Kentry smiled mysteriously, "According to the Popul Vuh, Hun Hunahpu will emerge from Xibalba only after an appropriate number of sacrifices of women whose name sounds like Karen."

Karen Nathan was taken aback. Everyone knew Classical Mayan literature made no mention of Karens or the need to sacrifice them. "That is a completely unorthodox interpretation of the Popul Vuh. It almost sounds like you are doing a mash-up of Mesoamerican mythologies in order to justify garden variety sadism."

Just then the ballroom lights dimmed and a voice came in over the intercom: "Ladies, if you would all assume your battle positions..."