An orcish Valentine

I’m in trouble.
Nothing new there, you might say. And right you are. Still, this is some form of trouble I would never have expected to find myself in.
Gather round, I tell you.

As I bustled through the internet this morning I came to the realization that today is apparently a special day that everyone seems to be excited about. Having learned my lesson never to ignore my human’s natural habits, I did some research. Sadly enough I found a lot about this guy called Valentine, but it was rather vague and it turned out he didn’t even exist at all. I also learned that people give each other little presents, especially in the form of hearts. Guess what happened next.

After my human had chased me out of the house for presenting her a dog’s heart (okay, I had already nibbled on it a bit) I tried to make amends by singing under the balcony. Soon enough I was accompanied by a number of cats. Knowing better than to catch one of them and throw it onto the balcony as a token of my devotion, I heroically ignored their juicy flesh and kept singing. When a vase painfully hit my head I considered to buy steal (there is some dignity left in me) some flowers.

Being kindly let back into the flat I then decided to really make an effort. I polished my tusks and varnished my Toenail of Doom. Never having handled lacquer before I spilled some of it. Perhaps it’s the colour that didn’t go well with my human. I mean, rotting green doesn’t really become her, to be honest. But instead of appreciating the effort I am now banished to the balcony. Again. Guess what? It just started raining.

Piss off, Valentine!

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