*Language – most F bombs here and there. If you’re easily offended, please don’t read it.*
Okay, isn’t this just fuckin’ peachy keen neat!! I’m up here in Kun-lai doing what I’ve been ordered to do and I get a letter from the Tillers telling me that the farm is mine completely. No, that Dude is still fucking helping me, however, since the land is now officially mine – they sent a list of fucking recommendations that I need to do in order to bring it up to the new code. I love getting personal shit in my dispatches from the command post.
Okay, the house isn’t all that great, it doesn’t leak. No, I don’t have any furniture in there yet because it works out fine for me like it is right now. I’m a Ranger, I don’t need a stinking bed all of the time. I’ve not slept in a real bed for a week now – so, what’s up with that? Oh and the fence needs to be repaired – if that damned dino thing wouldn’t keep rubbing her butt against it all of the time, I wouldn’t need a new fence. Oh yeah, I need to increase my irrigation so that the pond won’t get scummy – see, I knew that pond was part of the irrigation system. I also need to make sure that my dog ceases and desists in his habitual chasing of chickens on the neighboring farms – he’s a damned stray that decided to move in, he’s not my Dog.
Okay, calm down Dawnglory! You’re going to give yourself a heart attack and it’s not worth the stress that would cause. Hell, I could die and they’d still prop me up somewhere to make it look like I was still kicking. Wonder who would get my paycheck?
I also got a notice that due to the war, I have to plant so many plants for the invasion forces. Bring your own damned groceries, you bunch of lazy twits. Well, we should be wrapping up here in the next couple of days and I’ll be back at the farm this weekend to see what in the heck is going on.
Don’t these people realize that there is a fucking war going on and that I am not a full-time farmer. I like to think of myself as a gentleman farmer. I like my farm and I want to make it better but it’s not easy when you’re way the hell out in the middle of no-where and you get letters from the Tiller Council telling me that I need to do all of this work. I don’t have a fucking clone that can stay there all of the time and take care of things. I bet Fnar got a letter too, although, his place and his kid’s place are always picture perfect – well, I’m by myself, so, that makes it pretty damned hard to keep things going and still do my job.
Okay, I’m over-reacting to this and I just need to chalk it up and put it in the back of my mind so that I can concentrate on what it is that I am supposed to be doing. One thing is that we have a lot of troop movement up here in the North from the Alliance and it really is no surprise. I’ve scouted out their bases and compared the numbers and appearances of what we have – makes you wonder just how civilized the Horde is.
I know that I have gotten to where I disrespect the so-called Warchief more and more as time goes on. Yeah, I think he’s one of these idiots that would order “Burn, Pillage and Rape!” in that order just because it sounds good. Dumbass!! You can’t get much pillage if you burned it first!!
Oh well, I’m just going to fold this letter up for safety sake and leave it here in my journal so that I won’t lose it. It’s time for me to head out and get my little band together and start breaking down this temporary camp so that we can head back south again. Have to leave it like we found it so that no one will know that we were here. Which means I have to get someone to climb the tree off to the right there and get those bloomers down – nothing says “someone is living here” better than some idiots laundry hanging out there.