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Recently, I read a book about Henry VIII where it talked about his minions. It got me thinking about them. What are they? Who has them? Why do they have them? And why don’t I have any?

Actually, until now, I’d never given them a thought. And, of course, now I can’t stop thinking about them. I have so many questions. Can a minion be only one, as in a single minion? Or must they always be in multiples, as in millions and billions of minions?

When I introduce my minions to strangers, do I say, “I’d like you to meet Ramona and Herbert. They’re my minions.” Or do I just let it rest? Like I’d never introduce my slaves by telling people they were my slaves, right? I’m just not sure what is politically correct.

Are minions men? Women? Transgenders? And can a minion un-minion? Can he choose to no longer be one? Is he then an ex-minion and thereby must society recognize him as such? The thought reminds me of years ago when my daughter de-pledged her college sorority, Kappa Kappa Gamma. “Oh,” I said when she told me, “you’ve just de-Kappatated!”

Could it be that because Henry was the eighth and I am only Peggy the 1st that I’m not minion worthy? To become deserving enough, do I have to take a minion leadership training course? And how about them? Do they have to go to college to become a minion? And must they attend graduate school to become a really, really good minion? Are Harvard minions more valuable than, say, vo-tech minions? Are they paid? How much? Do minions have tenure? Ranks? Defined positions in minion society?

Are there minion unions?

I suppose that if one has minions, that person is then responsible for feeding them. But, what if your minions don’t like your food? Vegan minions, for example. Or what about those who eat only ethnic foods? Does HyVee have a minion section to cater to these folks? Moreover, if your minions insist on Taco Tuesdays and you don’t do Mexican, what do you do?

Then there’s housing. Do minions sleep in cells, bunk houses, private resorts? If they don’t like sleeping on the beds that I provide can they demand spacious queen mattresses? With memory foam toppers? Additionally, must they each have their own bathroom?

Do minions have opinions and must they sometimes be pinioned? Do they have dominions? And do they have more social clout if they’re from Virginia. You know—a Virginian minion? Does anybody know?

It would seem that all powerful people have to have minions; not just one, but a bunch. Imagine Caesar with only one. Way too puny; just wouldn’t have hacked it. And not least of all, one has to wonder if he bought his minions from minion.com or did he capture them? (Purchasing is good. Kidnapping, bad.)

Moreover, must minions be constantly working? Always laboring like worker bees building their hives—or like battalions of minion warriors winning battles for their warlord masters? Do they ever get a day off? To go fishing? Shopping? Binging on Game of Thrones?

Finally, when the minion owner dies, do his minions die with him? Or are they inherited by the deceased owner’s children—like old tools and tarnished silver serving dishes? And what if the children’s houses are not spacious enough for them plus their minions? In driving around Austin, I seldom see a house I think has room for a family plus a fussy group of minions. But, then, I suppose the overflow minions could stay at that new place in town: Cobblestone Hotel.

I, being on the low end of powerful, have never had a minion. Also I’ve never been one myself, so in all honesty I don’t miss them. Still, I can’t stop thinking of what I could accomplish if I did have one … or even a pile of them. Laundry would be a snap and raking fall leaves a mere bother. I could assign certain minions to specialized tasks: finding-lost-things minions, cutting-hair minions, walking-the-dog minions, writing nonsensical-Herald-columns minions.

But, then what would be left for me to do?

The responsibility of owning minions is mind boggling. The possibilities of owning minions is even more mind boggling. Alas, the complexities are endless. Just the thought makes my head swirl to the point where I fear it will unscrew and fly off into the neighbor’s yard.

Conclusion: although having minions would be pretty darned nice, they nevertheless remain pesky, demanding and really not all that necessary. Rather than dealing with the stress, I think I’ll simply buy a Roomba.