Monday, December 17, 2012

Day Three-Fifty-One: The holiday season is upon us


I left you with some dangling plot points last week, diary. Perhaps we should pick up where we left off, yeah? (Heh, I talk as though this's fiction or something. Though that COULD help me downplay the seriousness of my life… yeah, it's all just a story…)

With June still binding Evangelina with her magic, or whatever, we tromped out of the valley and headed victoriously back to Pubton. The townsfolk gathered quickly when we returned, and they happily erected an impromptu jail in one of the second floor rooms of the pub. We want to have a proper jail built by some time next week.

Evangelina is silent. When she woke up she refused to say anything. June tells me she CAN talk, she's just being stubborn. I guess I don't need an explanation as to why Evangelina was fucking with us, 'cause I was kinda complicit in the downfall of her… lover…? I guess that's what Driscol was to her. I had a different question for the old witch anyway, one I'd tried to ask ages ago:

"What the hell is with the orange eyes?"

June smiled her crooked smile as the whites surrounding her swirly pupils turned a hazy orange. "You mean like this?"

I flinched. "Uh, yeah. Like that. You've got 'em, she had 'em… another guy I knew had 'em…"

June raised an eyebrow. "Another guy?"

"Yeah." We were standing in the pub, and I pointed up the stairs, towards Evangelina's locked room. "They used ta be, I dunno, in cahoots or something. I saw 'im with weird orange eyes a couple times, 'n whenever that happened crazy stuff flared up."

"I see…" June paused. "What was his name?"

"Driscol. Driscol the Count."

"I see… and what happened to him?"

I cocked an eyebrow at the odd, hesitant sound in her voice. "Killed himself. Was trying to off, uh, another guy. Went up in crazy blue flames."

"I see…" June shrugged. "Oh well. The eyes are just a manifestation of our power. The more power we're siphoning through our bodies, the brighter the orange becomes. Bad for sneaking about, y'know? You won't have to worry about that lass doing the orangey-dance again, though - I put a seal on her neck that'll keep her from using her power. She's a bitter tart, 'n naught else."

"Okay…" I scratched my head. "What was with the potion thing she was gulping down, then?"

"Sorry, have to run, gotta go, toodle-o!"

June left without further explanation, flitting out of the pub and vanishing. I'd seen the seal (it's in the shape of an actual seal, very cute), and Evangelina hasn't tried to escape, so I suppose June is telling the truth. I doubt she's telling the WHOLE truth - she got pretty quiet when I mentioned Driscol, and that potion thing worries me - but I'll have a hell of a time forcing anything outta the witch.

Now that the town has quieted and we have a villain to focus our frustrations on (most people detest Evangelina after the whole Driscol traitor thing back at the old castle), we can get back to more important matters - namely, the food shortage. None of the animals returned to town after Evangelina's… whatever, was released, so we're much worse off than we were before. Don’t have to feed the animals, I'll grant you that, but we're out sooooo much money.

Thanks, Lord B.T. Your slaughter plan was great.

The mood 'round town is pretty depressive at the moment, what with the prospect of eating winterweed and naught else for several months, so in a panicky moment I looked back on my history to find a way to cheer people up. AMAZINGLY ENOUGH, the answer came from none other than King Jeffrey, tyrant asshole - albeit in a different form.

Jeffrey was a big fan of himself, frankly, and he figured everyone else should be too. To that end he created Jeffmas, a season of giving where everyone was supposed to present him with gifts. Rather an assholish idea, that, and typical of Jeffrey - but the idea of giving gifts to other people holds a certain appeal. 

My first thought was that everyone gives a gift to everyone else. Libby quickly pointed out that this plan wouldn't work, as we'd have to prepare several dozen gifts. Silly idea. I then revised my idea to a potluck kinda deal where we each throw a single gift into a pile and take one at random. This was better, but Libby swooped in again and noted that we might get presents we don't want.

Ultimately it was Libby who had the best idea, and the one we're using. We're gonna put everyone's name on slips of paper and throw the bits of paper into my hat. We'll then each pick a name out of the hat and buy or make (more likely make, we're all a little broke) a present for that person. Everybody gets a gift, and, hopefully, that gift will be something the person likes. Each gift'll be wrapped up in a box with some twine, 'n we'll all swap presents in a big meet on Friday. We won't know who has our names, so the gift-receiving will be a big surprise. Festivities and some drunkenness will surely follow.

The name of this little celebration? Allofusmas. To the dung heap with your stupid name, Jeffrey, to the dung heap.

I put out a short petition regarding the event, 'n most people seem eager to participate. It's genius, too, 'cause those who don't wanna just don't get their name stuck in the hat. (My dad's one of those miserable buttholes. He says he can't give a gift 'cause he's got no arms. I say he's cheap.)

We draw names tomorrow. I look forward to it. We need a bit of joy in this harsh weather. Still, there are a few people whose names I really wish I could throw in the hat… Eve, Barrel… they might not be so good at giving presents, but still…




  1. "Your present is a gift card.

    Yes I am aware that there are no stores here.

    It's not real anyways.

    It's the thought that counts.

    I don't think very much of you."

  2. I got a gift for Dragomir already prepped and ready for Xmas Delivery!

    It's just a quaint little gift to show my appreciation of freeing everyone from the idiocy that was Jeffmas.

    1. ... the best part is, no lie, that's pretty much exactly what happens...


  3. Hey look! Four walls just sitting in a field... Oh, but look! That fourth one looks horribly abused! It looks as if someone broke it! Or at the very least, hit it a couple times with a hammer.

  4. Dear whoever pulled out my name for allofusmas, all I want is a chair with spinning capacity.
    - From Baorn