Oh, I’m Going to Get Killed Any Minute Now (Part 12)
As ever, readers who are new to the diary, please scroll down a bit to where you see the Thppgrg tag. Click on it. Yeah, that’s right. Otherwise, if you missed part eleven, you can just click here. (Art by Chris McFann.)
More toilet paper strung up in the haunted forest; additionally, significantly more flaming poo bags on the front steps of the dungeon today. These newest bags were “cleverly” arranged in the shape of a particularly stubby hand making a very impolite gesture.
Also, there is a QUITE unflattering drawing of me with Xs through my eyes and an axe buried in my skull drawn on the front door. At first I took this to be a pretty darn good caricature of Steve Buschemi with sexier, pointier ears, but a helpful note next to it, with an arrow, informed me that no, this was—technically—a picture of, quote, “You, ya gobo bugger! Imma git ye!”
I am unamused.
Some day, there will be an ancient dwarven (or possibly pirate) proverb about never getting into an extended, ever-escalating prank war with a goblin who is having a tough time at work and severe relationship difficulties, and who is also currently raising a baby who apparently needs only two hours of sleep a night and has several decades of screaming practice already under her dainty belt.
Have come up with many elaborate forms of violent revenge for this stupid dwarf (or, again, possibly pirate); these plans have been re-worked in my head several times today while I pretended that I was working. Unfortunately, none of these plans are in any way currently feasible; access to boiling acid and rabid dire weasels heavily restricted by red tape in this stupid dungeon.
Also wondering if there’s some way I can trick my antagonist into “pranking” me by giving me a free tie. The one that I found in Sigvald’s room is WAY too big—although it does make an excellent poncho—and the one I made out of rat-carcasses this morning apparently violates a rule about “too much flair.”
Currently at 8 demerits. Probably going to be killed by my boss tomorrow.
Also, there is a new note from Shaendralya today, pinned to Sigvald’s heavily stabbed bedspread, saying only:
“U hvn’t tlkd 2 mee n lik a WEK u jrk were THRU!
“I totes h8 ur FACE! 4-reeel!
“:,,-((( txt mee
“<3 shae-shae <<33”
Geesh. The guy is dead and he’s still more popular than I am.
Oh, so, yeah . . . um, I guess I had a task-force forward-action priority reassessment presentation due today, whatever that even means. Man, that really snuck up on me.
Slipped my mind completely.
But it turns out that I am freakishly good at corporate jargon, spoken both quickly and confidently. Who knew that my skills at lying would serve me so well in business?
The presentation began with me walking into a very nice, elegantly paneled boardroom on Level 666 of the dungeon, filled with thirteen impeccably dressed monsters from the higher-CR sections of at least eight different books full of potentially game-breaking super-critters, most of whom I thought had been ret-conned. I counted, at first glance, at least twenty-five templates in liberal use, including one monster that I think was an Armani-suit-wearing half-fire-giant were-tyrannosaurus-rex gestalt-ankheg/vampire-green hag cybernetically fused to a gelatinous cube with bat wings.
Also, there was a shark tank. The sharks were wearing ties, all of them noticeably quite a bit nicer than mine, which is now made of half of Sigvald’s old tie and is half the size of a poncho. The half-eaten corpses at the bottom of the shark tank were also wearing ties, and I’m pretty sure I spotted a Rolex in there, too.
Also, there was a lava tank, which might or might not have had tie-wearing lava sharks in it. I’m going to go with a firm “probably” on that one, even though I didn’t see any. Lava is a lot harder to see through than I had expected.
I was asked a question—the specifics of which I cannot, just now, recall—by a guy who I think was a reverse-centaur, except that his top half was a cauchemar and his bottom half was a kraken and one of his arms was made out of poison energy, and then I opened my mouth, and then I kind of lost track of what was going on.
Anyway, when I stopped talking, I had a raise and a promotion. So that’s nice.
Stonnehyldd the Super-Smart Stone Golem also got a raise, so that’s even better, and I now report directly to Larry the he-medusa on Level 5, and he’s actually super-cool, so that might be the best thing ever.
I’m now officially living in Sigvald’s old room, which is upsetting, because I’m pretty sure that means Shaendralya is going to stab me to death some night, and soon. Also, I am now Neil’s boss, which I don’t think he’s going to be very happy about.
Mentioned briefly that Neil, my new subordinate, might have a problem with me due to accusations of racism; this ended up netting me a tidy bonus.
Not sure how I feel about that.
Also, I’m supposed to hire on some more help. To do what, precisely, I’m not sure, since I’m not even sure what MY job is; I have a meeting with Larry tomorrow.
With a little luck, maybe there’s a lovely dwarven-lady secretary in my future.