92 - Got a job with the Braxons.
joneworlds@mailbox.org
I need some cash. Me and a good bunch of people
around here. It seems a lot of them were kind of
counting on Pete bringing home some money from
that job up north on that highway, and sharing it
around, but that didn't work out. So things are a
little bleak here by now. There's just not a lot
going on these days.
And so I hate to do it, but now I've got some work
from the Braxon chieftains. Last thing I want to
do is to get involved with those crooks, but they
do got lots of money.
So I show up at one of their properties where
there's some stables I'll be mucking out. One of
their managers shows me in and hands me a shovel,
and she says the armor is on the hook by the door,
laughs and walks off. What the hell does that
mean.
They got horses mostly, and I'm working away into
the afternoon, and these stalls are really dirty
but I guess it's not so bad work. Then I get to
the stalls near the end, which look different than
the others. That's when I see they got a couple of
baby dragons stuffed in there.
That is so beyond stupid, that I can't hardly
believe it. But there are are. So I go put on that
shiny heat resistant suit she had pointed to. And
I feel like some ancient knight, except with a
shit-covered snow shovel instead of a sword.
In the last two stalls on the end, there's one
full of goblins, and one full of little
gnomes. Lord knows why. And they're all so filthy
and miserable looking, that I just about quit the
job right there. I can't just go along with
this. But if I still take the Braxon's money and
at least I'm helping make these creatures' lives
just a tiny bit more bearable, am I doing good?
In the end, I'm not much for moral
philophisizing. But I do know I need to eat more
often than I have been lately.