Thursday, September 1, 2011

Day Twenty-Four: Die another day

I really am the worst guard in the world. You know that, diary?

The day started out miserable. The queen must have seen that I was upset or worried or something, 'cause she left me alone. Spent the day reading. She has big stacks of books near her tree, and every now and then she’d ask me for a new one. The rest of the time? Left me in peace. That’s good, ‘cause I really didn’t want to talk.

I’m freaked. I’m gonna have a kid soon. I may not mention it to you that much, diary, but it’s on my mind all the time. I didn’t ask for this pregnancy. Why’d the gods decide I should have a child now? I’m not ready to be a father! I can’t even do my job! What if I get tired of parenting like I do standing in one spot all day? You can't just drop a kid to go play Kick the Clam in the bailies, you just can't!

Sorry, diary. This is supposed to be an account of what happened, not a bitching ground for 'ol Dragomir. I’ll get back to my day. I’m the worst guard in the world. Right. Focus on self-shittiness.

Shortly after lunch a freak rainstorm hit the plains, and I had to rig up the queen’s leather parasol so she wouldn’t get wet. The wind was pretty wild, so the parasol kept flipping inside-out. I complained that the castle should make a permanent shelter, but the queen insisted that she liked the floral pattern on the inside of her parasol and refused to use anything else. I’ve seen her kick right through a warthog’s head with her beefy legs, so I doubt anybody would argue against her demands.

(Please don’t tell the queen I called her legs beefy.)

While I was getting the parasol set up, something very bad happened: goblins. One of the war bands we’d heard about came out of nowhere and attacked us. I don’t have a weapon, and I suck at fighting, so as soon as I heard the battle screams... the warbling whoops of those titchy green bastards... well... uh... I kinda hid.

At the top of the queen's tree.

You don’t know how embarrassing it is to be somebody’s guard, only to hide while the person you’re supposed to be guarding fights off a band of goblins. The queen has mighty legs, though, and since the goblins can only attack her from the front she killed them all rather easily. She even broke their weapons with her kicks. That’s scary, diary.

So, uh, now I’m busy burning the bodies. The queen’s agreed to keep quiet on the whole me-running-away thing, though she says she’s gonna ask for different guards from now on. I’m not cut out for life on the plains.

I’m so ashamed, diary. What will I do if something dangerous comes looking for my little baby? Will I shriek and flee? What kind of father does that?

I’m a goddamned coward,

Dragomir the Wuss

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