Tag Archives: I’m doing it

One hell of a dream land this is

wp-1472637274171.jpeg

I’m gonna take another adventurous journey and hop into Tarralan’s Dreamland. It sounds like a lot of fun (which my human does not). There’ll be monsters and perils of all sorts. What’s not to like about this? Continue reading One hell of a dream land this is

Advertisements

Busy dictator

In case you’re wondering what I’m doing right now (well, not exactly right now, as I am blogging this very moment), but by the time you’ll be reading this:
I am a dictator.
Yes, that does not come unexpected, does it. But the good news end here.
I am dictating. Words. To my human.
I know, I know.
Could anything be more pathetic?
I don’t think so.
So take my advice: If you ever consider becoming a dictator, do it the proper way, not the book-writing-way. As I have no other options at the moment, I just dream of better days.
The thing I dictate is a story of adventure, of treasures, a shrunken head, and of course my comrades are in it too. Oh, what fun we had.
Those were the days.
Now I am miserable.
Thanks.
😦

P.S. Ha! She-human feels compelled to console me a bit and offers to cook a nice meal. Always works with these compassionate humans. They’ll never learn. Good for me. Grinning from ear to ear now. Oh, must put miserable face back on. Hehe.

Chancellor Thrakbog

Hunting in the grassI think I might run a campaign to become the next chancellor of the people of the sausage tribe. Why shouldn’t I, right?

They had their ‘Frauenquote’, now it’s about time they get the ‘Orkquote’ which would be the logical next step in human stupidity, called political correctness.
But to be honest I can envison myself, quite cheerfully accepting a bunch of flowers after elections, eating them or throwing them in the face of some surprised human. Yes, that would be fun, wouldn’t it?

First I would make sure I get all the campaign contributions, meaning tax money will be thrown my way and I don’t have to visit The Agency. So instead of sucking all the money out of one human, a whole country would then pay for my living. Excellent.
Next, I would get myself lots of campaign advisers, consultants and coordinators, just in case something went wrong. I could yell at them, throw things at them, kick them out and have a really good time while doing so.
And if nothing goes wrong I will become chancellor and then I can do whatever I want anyway. Not that I don’t do that right now already. But there’s a difference in quality, I’m sure. There has to be.
I would travel around sausage land in several forms of tin, perhaps a metal band would accompany me, which would make my campaign appearances much more entertaining. Drinking contests, bar brawls, mayhem in strip clubs, all of this would further my reputation as a really good sport.
People will love or hate me, either way they would vote for me. If they don’t I start an uprising of the stupid masses.
I know a lot about that, trust me. Most of the time I am a stupid mass and I raise myself up almost every morning. Consider me qualified.
So, Chancellor Thrakbog. How does that sound? Lame, actually. Emperor would be so much better. But it’s a start. In the end it might have a ring to it that says Evil Overlord.

And now I’m gonna muse about all the things I would change as soon as I am in charge. Free beer for all sausage people. They have a high tolerance for alcohol I was told. Could be fun then to play ‘last man standing’. In the end it would probably be a she-human, only because they insist on their bloody Frauenquote.

Orc in a wok

My human and I had a bit of a discussion. Alright, a yelling.
About a week ago I had been watching something very interesting on kraut telly. Some very odd folks were using a huge bowl-like dish by the name of Wok to sled down a track. It looked like a lot of fun. (In case you have no idea what I’m talking about: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wok_racing or: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUHQoD3lgQI )
So, naturally, I wanted to try it myself.
Luckily, she-human owns a wok, so I took it. A series of problems occured:
1. no snow or ice anywhere near where I live right now
2. rooftops are not as useful as I thought
3. stairs have no use either
4. the wok is not suited for a butt of orcish proportions
5. she-human now needs a new wok
6. I might find it difficult to sit for a while

They did not mention all that on the telly. Bunch of liars.
Do you know where I might get a bigger wok?

Unexpected problems

I’ve been very busy these days, writing (dictating) my book about the origin of orcs. My chosen name for this -Thracitus – still has a nice ring to it, although orc-purists may say it sounds a bit too scholarly – and therefore unorcish – , which is absolutely right. But writing a book is in itself a traitorous act in some way. My comrades should probably never know about it. But what are the chances right now, ey? And what do I care? I do whatever I want. Dare to contradict me.

So, I’ve been busy. And I thought, well, that’s it. Book’s finished. She-human almost toppled over with laughter. She does that a lot. I should be rather angry with her for not taking me serious. But then I think she’s pretty insane, I mean how else could she actually believe to survive having me as a flatmate…
Anyway, after she finished laughing she explained that a book definitely should contain of more than just six pages! I mean, what? Six pages! That’s quite a lot, dont’t you think. One wonders what I had to say about orcs that took so many words, right? We’re not exactly famous for being profound or complicated. Most of us hardly know enough words to fill six pages. So then I took a look around, to see how many pages the other books on her shelves have. Right. I do not have enough fingers and toes to understand the numbers.
The question remains, what do I do? Accept the fact that I have not yet written a book? Continue to add stuff? Forget about the whole thing entirely? My attention span is pretty much under pressure already with the whole thing, so…
Well, I guess I wait and see how the muse kicks me. If I ever happen to find that creature. She-human says its a mythical thing. I wonder what it will feel like to be kicked by a myth. Will it hurt? Do I care? Questions, nothing but quesions…