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?
Why am I doing this?
The hell I know.
My human (the poor creature I’m currently intimidating and annoying with my presence) told me to do it. Lately I have developed a tendency to do what others tell me. Makes things a lot easier when you’re dealing with capricious gods. Not that my human is…, never mind.
So, I’m blogging.
The thing is, I came to this world because some deity thought it to be funny. I am stranded in a metropolis called London which is a rather interesting place to explore. A tiny black box had been shoved into my hand which turned out to be a device to communicate with others, as I am doing right now obviously.
I started via a little blue bird that made me tweet (no comment on this one, I beg you) but my human suggested to write with more detail, so a blog it should be. The fact that I can write at all, well… Deities. You get it.
My human, a she-human (it has a name, but do you honestly expect me to remember it when I cannot even remember all the names of my wives and offspring? Seriously.) is sitting next to me to guide my first steps into this world of blogging. It… She, alright. She wants me to write a preface. I already have a perfectly good face that I am more than happy with. She is laughing hysterically. Might have a word with her about respect.
In the posts to come I will tell you more about myself and the other creatures I met on my journey through several worlds. This should do as a preface. Let’s jump right into it. I am not one to dwell on too much thinking. But you might have guessed that already, right?
Human interrupts again.
She wants me to tell you more about myself first.
To begin with I shall tell you a bit about me and my comrades in arms (she-human nodds). Also I might find it difficult NOT to mention my countless wives and offspring. That is one of the things I probably should begin with: I have a bit of a problem with counting. Or numbers in general. Or complicated ideas. My attention span is a bit on the short side as well.
Anyway, I am an orc and Thrakbog is my name. I have a lot of other names, depending on who died in the process. A true barbarian I am, roaming the wild as well as the cities of humans, gnomes, whatever. The race is of no importance to me, I appreciate diversity. I slay them all, regardless of colour or race, age or gender. Although recently I found it fairly interesting not to slay but to live among humans in this city called London. But you’ll hear about that later. Much later. First about myself:
Orc. We’ve already established that. But maybe you have no clue what it really means being an orc. But then, how could you, never having met one. So, I’m gonna tell you.
Memories of my childhood and adolescence are a bit nebulous. Attention span, see above. But under certain circumstances – meaning: special fungi – I might be able to remember that long forgotten past. I’ll do it one day, trust me. Hehe.
I found myself with several wives and countless noisy little orcs as if waking from a dream, or more accurate, entering a nightmare. As a form of compensation I got myself true comrades in arms. They never let me down. Occasionally they tread on my poor nerves but when it really matters they have my back. Except that one time they ran like girls but that is a story for another day.
So, my comrades. You might want to know them better. Even if not, I’m gonna tell you about them in my next post.
I feel so accomplished, it’s disgusting, really.