Posted on: Monday October 03 2011 by Xanaphia
So my apprehension at Bob’s parting gift may have been a little premature. It turned out to be a collection of photos from my stay at Grok’s, from the time he got his camera until my recovery and departure. About a dozen were of Grok doing Grok things (i.e. sitting by the pond and shouting at one of us), a few were of Joe sleeping in odd, open-mouthed positions, and several—more than I’d like—were of me in my unfortunate berry state. I was hands down his favourite subject. I guess waddling and rolling make for pretty awkward poses, which to Bob meant photo-op.
In one of the pictures I’m bending over to pick up a worm, and Bob snuck up behind me so that my butt was hanging over my upside-down face. The lady knows a thing or two composition, I’ll give him that. (Ooh, I should’ve called him ladyboy for every time he called me Juiceball.)
Anyway, I’m just looking over the album while taking a break. I would’ve reached Sylvanos yesterday, but I figured I’d take my time. For once, I don’t have a deadline (i.e. when Grok wakes up), and who knows what newfangled type of warfare will be waiting for me back home. This may be my first me-time in a long time and I’m going to savour it.
Here’s one of my favourite pictures from the album. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it’s one of Bob’s favourites too.
In one of the pictures I’m bending over to pick up a worm, and Bob snuck up behind me so that my butt was hanging over my upside-down face. The lady knows a thing or two composition, I’ll give him that. (Ooh, I should’ve called him ladyboy for every time he called me Juiceball.)
Anyway, I’m just looking over the album while taking a break. I would’ve reached Sylvanos yesterday, but I figured I’d take my time. For once, I don’t have a deadline (i.e. when Grok wakes up), and who knows what newfangled type of warfare will be waiting for me back home. This may be my first me-time in a long time and I’m going to savour it.
Here’s one of my favourite pictures from the album. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it’s one of Bob’s favourites too.
Posted on: Sunday September 04 2011 by Xanaphia
So it took a while, but it’s official: the anti-berry has been administered and I’m back to my normal form. It’s been a week, but I’m still here at the farm. Grok talked me into staying an extra week while Bob practiced worm-hunting. He’s paying me for it, of course. Poorly, of course, but it’s better than nothing. I figured since I’d been working for this cure for two years, seven months, sixteen days, and four hours, seven days would pass quickly enough.
Yesterday Joe brought me some new clothes as a going-away present. I’m wearing one of them right now. It’s been a while since I’ve worn non-stretchy fabric, and it was weird having the new shirt just fall over my shoulders rather than stick to my sides, desperately trying not to burst in the seams. Bob, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped calling me juiceball.
Anyway, I’ve had to relearn bending over and bending back, swinging my arms when I walk, and walking instead of waddling. It’s coming along. It’s crazy how quickly you forget these things when you get deformed. At least I’m okay to walk back to Sylvanos… I think.
Speaking of Sylvanos, I’ve sent a message to Lesver asking for an admin officer to come over and have Grok sign the papers for the berry trade. That was a bit of a wrong move, of course. I should’ve taught Grok to sign his name first. First we had to send Bob to Clockwork City to find a heavy-duty, jumbo-size pen (he’d broken all of Joe’s on the first few attempts), then we got started showing him the G, R, O, and K. We could go through the rest of the alphabet at a less crucial time. Also on my to-do list is reminding Lloyd not to eat the admin elf when he or she comes over.
Oh, and Bob told me he had something to give me before I leave. I don’t know if I should be excited or terrified.
Posted on: Sunday August 21 2011 by Xanaphia
I’ve been looking at the pictures Bob has taken of me since he got his camera seven months ago. You can tell I’ve been getting smaller, although I’m still very much a berry. According to Joe, since I took two different berries, I’m on a “two-speed recovery.” The very berry wears off gradually, which explains why my waddle has been less and less pronounced since Christmas. The berry berry, on the other hand, wears off the second I take the anti-berry.
According to my calculations, that would be in about a week. The berry is in a corner of the farm I don’t see very often—Grok says it has to be isolated and we don’t want to risk contamination. He’s the berry guy, and it’s a berry for which I’ve been collecting worms for a little over two years, so I had to take his word for it. Just like I had to take his word when he said that it should be ready for harvest in a few days.
To prepare for the big day, I’ve been showing Bob and Joe around my usual worm patches. Although Grok got on pretty well without a personal worm-hunter, he’s probably too used to it by now, and the goblins are going to have to start doing my job. I’ve been focusing my training on Bob, whose job basically consists of wearing tight dresses and seducing Edemian grocers into buying extra truckloads of berries.
You’d think Bob would be better at the job, being closer to the ground and not being spherical. But whatever physical advantage he has is wiped out by his extreme impatience. He never stays in a spot longer than two minutes. I keep telling him worms don’t work that way. Worm habitats are close to the core (that’s how they stay warm), so it can take them about half an hour to climb to the surface. Bob doesn’t listen, of course. She’d just blurt out some random commentary about my “dirty” job and storm off. But he’d always come back because being the worm-hunter means extra opportunities to suck up to Grok.
I’ve also been trying to show Joe around the delivery routes, pointing out all my shortcuts. I wasn’t sure whether it was safe to share my ranger secrets with a goblin, but Joe’s been really nice and I don’t think he sees it as military intelligence. He’d be more like, hey, I could use the extra half-hour for longer bathroom breaks. Or something like that. His sense of direction is so-so—he always has to check for a birthmark on his left arm to tell his right from his left—but he’s a willing student.
I wonder if any of them, or Grok, would miss me when I’m gone.
According to my calculations, that would be in about a week. The berry is in a corner of the farm I don’t see very often—Grok says it has to be isolated and we don’t want to risk contamination. He’s the berry guy, and it’s a berry for which I’ve been collecting worms for a little over two years, so I had to take his word for it. Just like I had to take his word when he said that it should be ready for harvest in a few days.
To prepare for the big day, I’ve been showing Bob and Joe around my usual worm patches. Although Grok got on pretty well without a personal worm-hunter, he’s probably too used to it by now, and the goblins are going to have to start doing my job. I’ve been focusing my training on Bob, whose job basically consists of wearing tight dresses and seducing Edemian grocers into buying extra truckloads of berries.
You’d think Bob would be better at the job, being closer to the ground and not being spherical. But whatever physical advantage he has is wiped out by his extreme impatience. He never stays in a spot longer than two minutes. I keep telling him worms don’t work that way. Worm habitats are close to the core (that’s how they stay warm), so it can take them about half an hour to climb to the surface. Bob doesn’t listen, of course. She’d just blurt out some random commentary about my “dirty” job and storm off. But he’d always come back because being the worm-hunter means extra opportunities to suck up to Grok.
I’ve also been trying to show Joe around the delivery routes, pointing out all my shortcuts. I wasn’t sure whether it was safe to share my ranger secrets with a goblin, but Joe’s been really nice and I don’t think he sees it as military intelligence. He’d be more like, hey, I could use the extra half-hour for longer bathroom breaks. Or something like that. His sense of direction is so-so—he always has to check for a birthmark on his left arm to tell his right from his left—but he’s a willing student.
I wonder if any of them, or Grok, would miss me when I’m gone.
Posted on: Sunday August 07 2011 by Xanaphia
So the gang went to the beach to celebrate Grok’s ungraceful but valiant mission to save me from the Pigmies. It was Bob’s idea, although I think he just wanted a reason to wear a bikini.
The coast of the Emerald Sea is a couple of days away for those who don’t know the shortcuts (i.e. most people), but I got us there in a few hours through an almost-invisible trail. The only wildlife in it is a few mushrooms and wild berries that give you squeaky feet if you eat too much of them. I’m always the only one on that trail whenever I go, so I’m tempted to think I’m the only one who knows about it. Of course, now the goblins are in on the secret. Grok too, but he was probably too grouchy to remember anything.
You see, it was his first time at the beach, and he didn’t get why we’d dragged him all the way to this “big pond” when he had a perfectly good pond back at the farm. Besides, he said, his last bath was only two months ago. “Clean skin make Grok dizzy,” he reasoned. He only went into the water after Bob and Joe swore that they didn’t have any soap with them and that Grok would return to the farm with every ounce of ogre grime intact.
Meanwhile, I was behind a tree, trying to squeeze into my elf-size swimsuit. Elf fabric is stretchy because we sometimes have to use our clothes as slingshots, but I guess they didn’t consider that sometimes elves get turned into giant berries in mid-mission. I had to waddle very slowly and remember not to exhale too deeply. A small sneeze would have sent my bikini top at least five miles offshore. In fact, after a few near-accidents Joe had to duct-tape the thing to my back.
Bob, of course, went out of her way to show off her bikini, which was prettier than mine. It was turquoise, or as she preferred to put it, “the color of the ocean on a balmy summer day.” Mine was mud-green like the rest of my elf outfits, the same color as Grok’s thighs if you pulled away some of the hair.
Speaking of thighs, Grok wouldn’t touch the sunscreen—he was afraid it would peel his skin off. Joe pointed out that he’d put on some and he was fine, but “Grok skin different,” apparently. He spent all day frying in the sun, occasionally dipping into the saltwater. So now we have a slightly pink ogre for a boss, except for a small patch on his back where I managed to sneak some lotion on.
I’m including a picture that Grok took during the evening. I hate Bob.
The coast of the Emerald Sea is a couple of days away for those who don’t know the shortcuts (i.e. most people), but I got us there in a few hours through an almost-invisible trail. The only wildlife in it is a few mushrooms and wild berries that give you squeaky feet if you eat too much of them. I’m always the only one on that trail whenever I go, so I’m tempted to think I’m the only one who knows about it. Of course, now the goblins are in on the secret. Grok too, but he was probably too grouchy to remember anything.
You see, it was his first time at the beach, and he didn’t get why we’d dragged him all the way to this “big pond” when he had a perfectly good pond back at the farm. Besides, he said, his last bath was only two months ago. “Clean skin make Grok dizzy,” he reasoned. He only went into the water after Bob and Joe swore that they didn’t have any soap with them and that Grok would return to the farm with every ounce of ogre grime intact.
Meanwhile, I was behind a tree, trying to squeeze into my elf-size swimsuit. Elf fabric is stretchy because we sometimes have to use our clothes as slingshots, but I guess they didn’t consider that sometimes elves get turned into giant berries in mid-mission. I had to waddle very slowly and remember not to exhale too deeply. A small sneeze would have sent my bikini top at least five miles offshore. In fact, after a few near-accidents Joe had to duct-tape the thing to my back.
Bob, of course, went out of her way to show off her bikini, which was prettier than mine. It was turquoise, or as she preferred to put it, “the color of the ocean on a balmy summer day.” Mine was mud-green like the rest of my elf outfits, the same color as Grok’s thighs if you pulled away some of the hair.
Speaking of thighs, Grok wouldn’t touch the sunscreen—he was afraid it would peel his skin off. Joe pointed out that he’d put on some and he was fine, but “Grok skin different,” apparently. He spent all day frying in the sun, occasionally dipping into the saltwater. So now we have a slightly pink ogre for a boss, except for a small patch on his back where I managed to sneak some lotion on.
I’m including a picture that Grok took during the evening. I hate Bob.
Posted on: Sunday July 24 2011 by Xanaphia
