Thursday, October 6, 2011

Day Forty-Nine: A lovely tale

I’ve got a better story about when I was a kid, diary. You’ll love this one, I promise. I actually come out on top! Or I'm not on the bottom! That's as good a reason as any to enjoy a story.

As you can imagine, Robert was the cook on our farm. Whenever my dad got done with his chores he would bring Robert a few liters of the milk he’d yanked out of our animals, and Robert would whip up awesome milkshakes for everyone. I dunno how he did it, but he could make eel’s milk taste like strawberries, which is especially amazing since strawberries don’t grow anywhere near York. I’ve never even tasted a strawberry, so how would I know in the first place? Really amazing stuff.

Anyway, Robert being Robert, he eventually got tired of getting the same old milk or the same old meat day after day, and he wanted to catch something better. (Maybe this is where that stupid plan to catch elephants comes from.) He studied up on the migrations going through the area, and decided that he would try snagging toads. I dunno why toads, but Robert always had odd tastes when it came to his own food.

Just like today I took any excuse to get away from where I’d been told to stand, so I went with Robert to the swamps around the town, where toads are most likely to migrate. Robert’s got a big net and I’ve got a bag, and he tells me to open the bag any time he catches a toad so he can dump it in.

“Robert,” I ask him, “should we be going into the swamps? Dad always said we should avoid ‘em. We could sink.”

“Dragomir,” he replies, “why do you think I put these buckets on my feet?”

“I was wondering about that.”

“You ever seen a bucket tossed in water?”

“Sure, every time I have to go to the well.”

“What happens to the bucket?”

“It sinks. Then I get water and take it-“

“Nu uh, buckets on water float.”

“They do not.”

“Do so! My bucket always floats. So they must all float.”

“Your bucket’s made outta really light wood. The ones on your feet are metal.”

“It’s the same difference. You’re so dumb, Dragomir. Just watch.”

So Robert sank into the mud as soon as he stepped in, and I saved him. Let him grab onto my bag and pulled him out. We never did catch any toads, 'cause Robert was also a big wuss back then, and he started to cry.

That was a pretty good story, wasn’t it? I came out on top. Kinda. Though my mom did hit me ‘cause I wasn’t watching the cows and an orc stole three of them... hum. I guess I coulda left that part out.

Still zombies, diary. I’m getting hungry. Almost out of food. And water – that’s the real problem. I could use a drink.

Stop all that squeaking, whatever you are,

Dragomir the Adventurer

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