I 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.
I have been informed that in this world humans who are without employment have to visit The Agency. The whole idea of not employing yourself by simply doing whatever it is you usually do is very unorcish indeed.
Humans have to go there in order to find employment. They have different names for it, employment agency, job center, dole office. It all comes down to The Agency making sure that said humans get a job. Or so they say. They boast to promote reinstatement, further human’s career, and – even more important – they handle the unemployment benefits. If I got that right it means, humans without a job get money for doing nothing. Makes me wonder why anyone would ever think about taking a job at all. She-human explained that The Agency has come to that exact conclusion as well and so they make the humans take any job or else: no money. Problem in this world: no money – no fun.
So, there we are. Unemployed orc.
I seriously considered going to The Agency and file for my jobseeker’s allowance. Serious matters kept me from doing so.
1. Office hours – nothing I can accept
2. very tight orcpower market – they might not be able to offer me any job suitable for an orc. But I do not want to end up cleaning human lavatories. Dignity, you know.
3. my current work-life-balance is somewhat unhinged, I do not feel like working on a regular basis. I am an orc for any god’s sake!
4. she-human strongly supported me going there, which made me very suspicious. Even more so when I saw the gleam of mischief in her eyes. I am all for having fun, especially when it includes making humans suffer but in this case I might be the one who pays the price. From what I heard, The Agency never forgets. Once in its claws, you’re doomed forever.
Imagine the following situation:
“Hello, what can I do for you?”
“I am looking for a job.”
“Good. What are your qualifications?”
“Killing, pillaging, burning, slaughter.”
“Producing chaos and mayhem on a regular basis?”
“Good. Actually we might have exactly the job that would suit you perfectly.”
“Indeed, these qualifications are much in demand worldwide. What about your religious beliefs?”
“I believe that orcs are superiour. That explains practically anything that goes with it. Does not matter which god to pray to.”
“Even better. So you would not mind murdering on behalf of any god?”
“Perfect. Would you mind telling me if you have a life insurance?”
“Just to know whether your loved ones are being cared for, when you leave them behind.”
“Well, these jobs usually come with a shortened lifespan.”
“Suicide bombing is normally quite lethal, I’m afraid.”
“You want me to commit suicide in the name of an invisible friend some humans pray to?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call them ‘friend’ really. It’s an excuse for being inhumanely violent and call it god’s will. Much in demand these days.”
“Hm, inhuman I am. But the whole business doesn’t sound very appealing to me. You know what, I do not want that job.”
“Then we’ll cut your allowance.”
“I could employ myself.”
“Orc on demand.”
“I do not think the market does offer regular labour in that field.”
“Shouldn’t you encourage my attempts to be reinstated?”
“My job is to get rid of as many of you as quickly as possible.”
“You see! So is mine!”
Well, the dialgue would end there, naturally. On the other hand, would I then have to take the job of the agent?
You see, that’s why I stay away from The Agency.