The Hojen are a folk, who live in a place called Hojen. Why? Who knows. Anyhow, let's get down to the task of describing them, in case anyone ever needs to know.
The Hojen are the size of bacon but sound much more like sad mice. The Hojen are a race of whimperers. Were one to put a Hojen in a box, it would most likely whimper. When you took it out, it would still whimper. What's the point in taking it out, you ask? Well, what's the point in putting it in. So there.
The Hojen like cake and such items as much as you or I, but they don't feel the need to run around screaming about it all the day long. They are content to bake their cakes solemnly, using mortar and branches from their "baking tree". They then toss these freskhly-baked cakes into a special lake designed just for cake drowning and hurl insults after them. Some will then swim to the bottom of the designated Cake Drowning Lake and beat up on the already dead cakes, swearing their hatred as the tears of anger pour down their cheeks. They then drown themselves, to prove that the cakes are no better then they are. Then someone throws some fabric onto the lake and then everyone cries, for no real reason. When they stop crying, they bury themselves up to the neck in cement and then they have to yell for help until a woodsy creature comes along and helps them. This woodsy creature is then immersed in sauce and runs off into the night, howling. Then the Hojen have to pretend they are made of thick marble.