Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Day Twenty-Three: Live and let die

Today was surprisingly peaceful, diary. And I don’t say 'surprising' because the plains around the queen’s tree are usually filled with wild animals. She's killed so many creatures with those wheeling legs of hers that I think it's almost taboo for critters to come close.

It’s surprisingly peaceful because Libby came out to visit, and she’s still pregnant - but she didn't go nutso.

It probably has something to do with the outdoors. Libby loves nature. When she’s not yelling at me to get to work or busy with her carpentry, she’s usually in the forests around Castle Buttercup. I don’t go for walks with her too often, 'cause it gets all awkward trying to find things to talk about, but the few times I have I’ve seen her calm down completely.

Apparently even pregnancy can’t get her upset when she’s in a natural setting. Maybe I should bring Libby out here more often. For, y'know, safety’s sake. And to let the kid breathe! Can't forget about the kid. Must get stuffy in that stomach.

It turns out that Libby and the queen are good friends, which makes sense since Libby is out here so much. It also turns out that Libby hadn’t told the queen she was pregnant, so when she came waddling up to the queen’s tree with a full belly the queen squealed and demanded details. It was really weird listening to their girly talk, so I tuned them out and watched a butterfly fight it out with a snake until Libby left.

(The snake won. What was the butterfly thinking?)

Libby was spaced out and happy, so she didn’t say goodbye. She just wandered home. That’s better than most days, though I would like a kiss every now and then. I should've been worrying 'bout myself, though, ‘cause as soon as Libby took off the queen asked a zillion and a half questions.

“You didn’t say much, Dragomir,” she started. “You’re going to be a father! Congratulations! How do you feel? Are you excited? Nervous? Gassy? I have noticed a smell, you know. What do you want to call the baby? Libby said she thought it would be a boy because it’s so strong, but you never know, so maybe something along the lines of Arnold or Reginald... but would you be okay if it was a girl? Girls are wonderful, you know...”

I tried to tune her out, but it’s tough to ignore a person when they’re talking right at you and asking questions. Even harder when that person is the queen and you’re trained to listen to everything royalty says. I stumbled through her queries as best I could. I don’t think I looked very enthusiastic, either, ‘cause the queen ended with:

“What’s the matter, Dragomir? You talk as though I’ve just sentenced your family to death. Aren’t you excited?”

I couldn’t answer the queen, and after a few seconds of silence she let the matter drop.

The truth is, diary, I’m... afraid.

I don’t really wanna talk about this anymore. Thinking about the birth makes me nervous.


Dragomir the Guard

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