Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Day One-Ninety-Three: Conundrums

I'm out of my hospital bed (pretty luxuriant name for a blanket and a cot harder than a rock, but there you go) and back in my own apartment. I'm more nervous here than in the hospital, 'cause one thing keeps going through my mind:

Libby might be able to read.

How else could she study? You don't study with a person. You learn from a person. You glean knowledge from a person. You don't study with a person, you study a book. And to study a book, you have to be able to READ.

You may not think this is a tragedy, diary, and under normal circumstances I wouldn't either. I'm all for literacy. When I write my awesome novel in the future, WELL away from our stupid king who feeds stories to farm animals, I will NEED literate people. They will have to read my book, and then make me rich. And, hell, one of 'em might as well be my wife. I'll even give her the book for free.

But if Libby learns to read, she'll be able to read you, diary. YOU. And then she'll know about all the times I complained about her, or lied to her, or called her a douche, or… or… expressed excitement at 'cuddling'… LONG STORY, MADE SHORT, SHE CAN'T READ YOU, DIARY

But… I can't STOP her from learning to read… assuming she hasn't learned already… and she already knows you exist, diary… so what am I supposed to do? Hide you again? That'll earn me a beating, 'cause she'll think I don't trust her! Which I don't! Gah!

See, this is what happens when wives hide stuff from their husbands. Everything goes down the toilet. ALL HER FAULT

The contest to free Queen Daena continues, at any rate. There's a station set up just outside the throne room for people to submit their ideas. The king's gonna gather everyone on Friday and see what's in the box. Best idea gets a prize. Worst idea gets… well, nothing, which is better than the 'something bad' King Jeffrey would normally give for wasting his time.

Thing is, not many people are submitting, from what I hear. One of the other guards is set up to watch the station, and he told me that almost nobody is daring to give ideas. Either the people living here are all dolts (and that would include me, 'cause I don't know what to do about Queen Daena) or they've learned that King Jeffrey isn't to be trusted. I bet it's a mix of both. Either way, the presentation of ideas on Friday is gonna be… pretty… pathetic.

Whatever. Don't care. Though I really like Queen Daena, it'll be nice to see the expression on Jeffrey's face when he realizes nobody's helping him. He deserves it.

Sigh. That's enough writing. Back to the cupboard. Captain Cedric insisted I pull a double shift tonight. Hope there aren't more stupid cockroaches in that stupid cup. Stupid posting. Stupid stupid stupid.


Dragomir the Guard

1 comment:

  1. My idea involves 5 tons of explosives, 23 chickens, a bucket of grease, one long rope, 2 catapults, and a blind fiddle master who can balance over a pit of snakes while playing. I'm sure there is at LEAST a 20% chance the Queen will survive...maybe...