Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Day Two-Twenty-Three: Giraffe gaffe

Ha haaaaaaa, I did it again. I am not cut out for politics, diary, I simply am not.

Or… perhaps polite society.

I have numerous problems.

I showed up this morning, trekking through Bottomless with Libby, half an hour early for the talks. There weren't many people at the merchant's guild yet, and we decided to sit out front and wait for somebody to show up and open the doors to the meeting hall allotted to Evangelina 'n her crew. We tried to play some dirt chess, but Libby got annoyed having to constantly erase and re-draw her pieces on the ground.

Eventually, one of Evangelina's crew showed up and told me, rather curtly, that the meeting wouldn't begin for two more hours. I'd been misinformed. Then he lifted his nose at us scratching pictures into the dirt and wandered away.

"What a prig," Libby commented. Big agreement there.

We were both hungry, and Libby had planned to go get something to eat anyway, so I figured, why not go out for breakfast? Find a nice sit-down restaurant, grab some mutton, 'n have a good, long conversation? Libby wasn't so much on the conversation, but she LOVED the idea of food.

(She also turned down the idea that we should invite Eve along. In retrospect, for practical reasons, I can see why we shouldn't bring her - she'd devour half the kitchen's stock and then leave us with an enormous bill.)

We wandered around for a little while, 'n eventually we found a cosy family-owned restaurant a few blocks away from the guild headquarters. A hob-legged old man with a charming grin and two missing eyes miraculously seated us without problems, then gave us menus.

Libby knew exactly what she wanted, as soon as she saw it on the list: fried rat rice. She was one of those sad few who hated the disappearance of rats from the castle… though not for the same reasons as me. (And I'm still on the fence 'bout whether them leaving is good or not.)

I was pickier. I don't have a terribly wide palate, having grown up on a farm, and the heretofore limited choices in the Beefiary (and my shitty salary) have stunted my tastes. I wanted to try something new, something… exotic. And, after ten minutes of aimlessly perusing the menu, I asked the waiter what he thought.

"Whaddya think about this one?" I pointed to one of the menu choices.

"This one what?" he asked, hovering in place.

"This, this."

He stared blankly at me, though because he had no eyes his blank stare was more aimed at a wall across the restaurant. That's when it hit me.

"Whoops. Sorry. Um, I was wondering about the pickled giraffe in lime sauce. Is that any good?"

The waiter grinned. "Depends. Y'got a strong stomach?"

"Yes," I said.

"No," Libby said. "What'll it do to him?"

The waiter scratched his chin, then, laughing to himself, he shook his head. "I'll let ya find out on yer own, if you wanna order it. You gonna?"

I glared at Libby. I totally did think, at the time, that I had a strong stomach. I seldom have stomach problems! All my bodily issues are a result of a loose bladder! So, hell yes, I ordered the giraffe.

We ate. The giraffe was stringy. Not my favourite thing in the world, but it came with an excellent pint of strawberry beer. (Libby mocked me for not bein' manly. Nuts to her, I'm so manly that I don't get drunk.) Came quickly, too, which woulda left us with a looooot of time to fill with useless banter -

- 'cept somebody interrupted one of my burps by tapping me on the shoulder.

"You must go, now," the ninja said, hiding in the next stall over. "You were deceived. The meeting has already begun."

Turns out Evangelina and her little band of assholes had been hiding when Libby and I came up to the meeting hall and found it closed. She sent out that dude to throw us off the trail, and once we left they snuck in! How's THAT for immature?

Anyway. Stomach full of giraffe, I thanked the mystery girl (who was already gone - DAMNED NINJAS), left Libby to pay the tab, and bolted for the meeting. Last thing I heard in the restaurant was the jostle of digesting food in my stomach, a burp from my mouth and, overshadowing it all, Libby's curses.

We, ah, had agreed to go fifty-fifty on the tab. OH WELL

My stomach started to cramp up by the time I reached the meeting hall and barged through the doors. I stumbled down the entry hallway and wandered into the meeting, already well underway, disturbing Evangelina in the midst of a sentence.

"Sorry, sorry!" I panted, taking up a spot on the edge of the room as soon as I noticed every damned eye on me. "Sorry. Bit late. Shutting up."

Evangelina glared. She woulda cut the giraffe right outta my stomach if she'd had a knife, I've no doubt. She didn't say anything, though, and after a minute went back to the matter at hand: addressing some fat dude with big muscles at the other end of the table. They’ll get ANYBODY to be an ambassador these days, I swear.

I'd told Celine, and by extension Queen Daena, that I would listen in on the talks and try and catch Evangelina in suspicious behaviour. I'd fully planned on doing that from the moment I got up this morning, and since I had nothing ELSE to do besides stand and listen, well, why not? Eve hadn't shown up, so I didn't even have her to distract me.

Something else decided to infringe on my recon work, however: my, uh, plumbing.

Everything started off great. Once the ambassadors were all back on track, Grylock took the floor and began debating alliances with Evangelina and the fat dude. Then a skinny dude from some kingdom down south got into the mix, demanding a greater share of resources for their cooperation, and some snake lady rebuffed him. Names flew every which way, and Evangelina tried her best to maintain order.

Then, suddenly, unexpectedly and loudly, I belched.

The room quieted. Everyone, guards included, turned to look at me. I clapped my lips and stared at a mosaic of a sloth in robes painted on the ceiling.

But then I belched again. Louder. Longer. More violently.

The talks continued, though with some hesitance. All of the ambassadors tried to ignore me, 'cept for Grylock, and he was laughing his ass off and giving me a thumbs-up. I did my best to hold in the burps, 'cause they were coming fast and furious now -

- but that only served to redirect them. To, ah, my butt. Faaaaaaart.

Most of the guards collapsed in fits of giggles. Grylock stomped his feet against the meeting table so hard that his chair pitched backward, spilling him onto the floor. Several of the ambassadors snickered, but some… some looked as mortified as Evangelina. Though she additionally wanted to kill me, a spark of horrified fury dancing from one eye to the other, so she was a little set apart.

Fart. Fart. Burp. Belch. I couldn't help it. The giraffe and the lime, mixed, created a potent gas bomb in my belly that simply would not stop. I was quickly surrounded by noxious fumes the likes of which I'd never experienced before, and I judiciously decided to flee the building. Take my chances in the streets.

Too little too late, though, 'cause I've heard the meeting hall had to be evacuated.

I ran for the outskirts of town, a pack of dogs on my heels, drawn by the stench from my, ah, orifices. They remained with me well into the night, apparently luxuriating in rancid fumes - and I'm thankful for them, 'cause nobody ELSE would come near me. 'least I had some company.

It's stopped, now. I'm allowed near the caravan again. Libby heard about it all, though, and she's refusing to let me sleep in the same room. I'm around some lady merchant's fire at the moment, sleeping on a cot I filched from the Matriarch. And I even had to prove to HER that I wasn't farty anymore, 'cause she figured I might let one go and set her tent on fire! C'mon, lady, I'm not gonna do THAT to a campsite.

Sigh. Remind me not to eat giraffe again.


Dragomir the Gross


  1. Fart Jokes. Never gets old!

    1. Such a very immature thing, to find such shallow and mild-mannered jokes about rectile gas funny. I must say that I am absolutely perturbed by such juvenile behaviour from such a cultured group of people...*pffffffft* I can't even keep a straight face, today's fart jokes were pretty dang funny XD

  2. After two hundred and twenty-two days of gas-free silliness, I figured it was time for some farting.

    Just wait. Day four hundred and forty-six will be absolutely noxious.

    1. You realize I'm going to hold you to that.

    2. I plan to hold MYSELF to that. With my luck that'll wind up being a deadly serious day, yet I'll have to pepper it with farts.