|Filthy fiends and their lairs...|
Rather than get up with the sun, which I still say he does simply to glare it the blazing ball, he lazed about in bed ruffling his scales about the day to be. "It's still Winter. I don't want to get up," He was garumphing over and over and over. I chucked a large pot of water at him.
This is why my bed is now a heap of ash. I spent most of the rest of the morning sweeping the floor and getting ready for work. I was not looking forward to hunting moles in the root groves today, let me tell you. Especially since I'd have to sleep on the couch tonight. If I'm lucky, at least. I imagine my apartment will be all ablaze when I get home. Though I suppose it's better than that harpy infestation we had last year. Needless to say </a></b></a> wouldn't be especially pleased either when she returns from her space flight. Though I suppose it's better than scraping harpy dung, which is especially foul. Damn dragons. Clearly not the pet for us. At least he could fly me to work adn hold a decent game of chess. By the by, he kicked my ass yesterday at Go. Who knew dragons could see into infinite steps ahead even within multiple forking paths? I call it cheating, he says it's luck.
So here I am, completely ignoring the destruction of our root veggie crop. In lieu of, you know, ensuring the survival of these parsnips, I'm journaling my little hearts out. (Imagine my surprise when I found two; I was always curious why I had such a high heart rate.) There is much to accomplish today but I just want the weekend. It seems that Fox and I will be doing many things manish. Boxing, moving furniture, jousting... You know, brutish things. Though I suppose we'll have to get a new bed. Perhaps one with a steel frame, forged in Volcanic fire. It's far more difficult to melt magicked steel.
Hmm. It seems that one of my coworkers was eaten by a rabbit. It's never just mole holes, is it?