Letter to the Mish Man -- er, Dwarf

25 January 2007

Hey there, Mish!

How the heck are you? Damn, I miss you! I'm doing my best to try to stir up trouble and controversy without you around ... but it's hard. Just seemed easier to dream up "scandalous things" with you present! Not sure exactly why that is, but ... well, there ya are.

So I'm sitting here, cooling my heels in "The Gilded Rose" in Stormwind, where I sort of "live", you know, between Wild Adventures and Instance Runs. And I'm writing you this cool letter, you lucky SOB, you!

Well, what can I tell you about "how things are"? The Cohort is still around and is doing well, all-in-all. Would you believe they made me an officer? Damn, Mish! Can you believe dis frickin' crap?! They'll let anybody in the Executive Suite these days! So now I've got this Extra Responsibility, but I'm still kind of waiting around for all those perks you said come with the job. Things like the "suite upgrade" here at the Inn? And the "extra service package" at the Pig & Whistle? And what about all those small-eared women that are supposed to just start following me around wherever I go and coming to visit me in my room and all that?

Mish -- call me "psychic", but ... none of that's actually coming, is it? You sucker-punched me on this, didn't you? Wouldn't be the first time. You're surely going to Hades in a Handbasket for all the lies you continually feed me just so that I do what you want me to do.

<sigh> And then I keep doing them. Obviously I'm suffering from some amount of brain damage.

In fact, about the only thing even remotely "good" that's happened to me as a direct result of my ascension to the officer ranks is ... I found some ladies underwear on the floor of the Officer's Locker Room three days ago. Heida's been gone, so there are only two possibles for whom it belongs to. In the first moment, I thought "What luck!" I mean, you find a lady's undergarment where it's not supposed to be and ... well, it's a situation that has "potential", you know? But my feelings quickly turned to dread because, if Xia or Pants could be that careless, then ...couldn't Thark be as well? Is it only a matter of time before my eyes (and other senses that I'd like to leave the hell out of this discussion) are assaulted by the sight of ...

...OK, I'm getting ill, even more so than your unbooted feet once made me. Subject change.

Since I mentioned Thark in the previous paragraph, let me run with that theme for a bit. We were in Blackrock Depths together two days ago. Now Thark, see, he's been spending all his time in Outland ever since the Dark Portal opened, having a great time exploring everything, meeting exciting new mobs, owning them (so he says), finding all kinds of cool, new green gear which is better than Azerothian blue gear (ok, now that I believe, because I've already replaced a lot of my blue stuff with Outland green stuff I picked off AH), and generally Boldly Going Where No Dwarf (named "Thark") Has Ever Gone Before!

Meanwhile, Yours Truly here is constantly struggling to scrape together whoever he can find to do instance runs in "old" Azeroth, with people inside and outside the Cohort, because he (me) still has 19 damned quests! How can I go to Outland with so much unfinished business?

But anyway, Thark took a shocking break from Boldly Going Where No Dwarf (named "Thark") Has Ever Gone Before by coming to BRD yesterday. And he's 65 (I think) at the time, so he's all on about how he's gonna' just own down there, you know, it's going to be soooo easy because he's got some kind of adamantite (or was it vegemite?) gun now and his pet, Barkskin, is now on Bear-'Roids or something that he picked up over there in Outland and, most importantly, because --

-- (wait for it) --

-- Thark himself is now "God".

Yes.  You're reading it right -- Thark is now "God". He was very, very clear on this point!

First he tries to tell me that "God doesn't need heals". (That lasted about seven minutes). Then, every time he comes under direct attack, he feigns death.

"Why does 'God' need to feign death?" I suddenly asked.

Damn, Mish -- total silence! I wish I'd had a pin with me because I could have dropped it and every Dark Iron Dwarf in the place would have heard it.

Later on, 'God' dies. I must be fair -- it was a helluva battle! Somebody had to buy it, and as Fate would have it, it was TharkGod. Funny part is, I don't even realize it because I'm so used to him feigning death!

In fact, the (now-dead) God himself says, "No worries! I'm merely feigning death!"

Ah, I thought. OK. I mean, honestly, Mish! I took his statement at face value! I wasn't trying to be 'difficult' or 'gloat' or 'play dumb' -- I really thought he was only faking. But then this:  "Uhm, could I get a rez, please?"

So ... let's summarize my BRD experience of two days ago: I -- the Lowly and Humble, Only-L60, Non-God, Hangin'-Out-Exclusively-in-"Old"-Azeroth Druid -- rezzed none less than God Himself!

By the Light, Mish! Think about it for a sec ... why, the theological implications alone are ... just ... staggering!

Bottom Line: some of you people may think you're "God", but I stand above you all -- because I rezzed Him!

Thank you. Don't forget to bow. Kneel, even. Full prostration is optional, but you earn more points.

So what else?

Ah yes, after getting out of BRD two days ago, I'm at the mailbox outside the Bank of Stormwind, you know, doing my thing, running my game, and that's when I experience the day's Severe Psychotic Disturbance. I mean, this was really nasty. Pants contacts me. No, that wasn't the "nasty" part.  It's what she wanted from me that was nasty.  You surely recall that "acting troupe" in our Guild that has been planning a performance of "Romero & Julia" since Elune knows when? Surely you do because you've offered your own contribution. Well, I've never paid that discussion thread any mind, so I wasn't up on it at all. But Pants now asks me to play the part of Romero.

So I'm flattered on one side, but wary on the other. Now remember -- I've not been reading the thread! So in my profound ignorance, I ask Pants the Big Relevant Question, the Wickedly Obvious Question, The Only Question That Truly Matters in this Situation --

-- I ask Pants: "Who's playing Jullia?"

Pants takes a long time answering. A real long time. So two things are immediately obvious to me: (1) she knows the answer is going to put me off, but (2) she's too good a person to just lie to me. Under such conditions, one hesitates while one desperately tries to think of an answer that is (1) not going to make the other vomit but (2) is also not an outright "lie". Pants tries, bless her, but she can't quite manage it. To be fair, she was facing Mission Impossible, for as you (and everyone else except me) well know, the answer is: Thark. And that is the answer Pants finally gives me -- after I pry it out of her with a crowbar.

Well, Mish -- I could spend a lot of words right here describing my reaction to that little factoid. But let me save my writing hand -- you know me, so you can imagine very well how I reacted. It was not pretty.

So Pants goes into Mitigation Mode. "You only have to kiss Julia a few times!"

Oh. Well, I mean, if it's only a few times...!

>>> barf <<<

Pants, showing that it's the mark of a Good Guild Officer to be able to compromise, then backs off to: "OK, how about if you just blow Julia a few kisses?"

>>> puke <<<

So back and forth we go -- Pants doing everything she can to convince me to play opposite Thark-in-Drag and me trying everything to not lose the contents of my stomach. Finally, she gives up. Gotta' give it up for the lass, though -- she put a fine effort into it! You're very aware of how stubborn I can be. She did her best. Anyway, at this point, I'm profoundly relieved that the discussion is apparently over, I can try to forget and get back to what I was doing.

But then Dings comes out of nowhere, grabs hold of my leg and starts pleading with me to be Romero! ... At this point I "lost time", meaning that my head kind of snapped and something happened, time passed, and I only became consciously aware of it later.  Like when you wake up the next morning after a night at the Pig & Whistle and you can't recall what the hell you did for the last six hours. I do remember screaming and running blindly through the city. Dings must have fallen off my leg at some point, because I was alone when I came back to my senses.

OK, so much for the day's Severe Psychotic Disturbance.  Let's talk about ...

... Ara.  Your Dearest Love. She misses you, Mish. That should be a no-brainer, eh? I tried to cheer her up the other day, at least for a bit. Remember that great ice cream I always have? Well, I've added rum to the mix. It's now Rum Ice Cream. Volatile Rum Ice Cream! Ara really liked it. So if you return and if you're a good boy...

But I'm running out of Volatile Rum, so I need another trip to the Southshore Pirates in Tanaris soon. Sure would like to have you with me for that. We could do our "Good AoE" number on those pirates! On a purely visceral level, it wouldn't be as satisfying as our number against the Murlocs of Hillsbrad, but the loot would sure be better. We'd get enough VR in no time!

Appropos "Southshore Pirates" -- you ever taken a good look at the women down there? It'll be the subject of a coming Druid's Journal article, so I'm afraid I'll not say any more about it here because it would spoil the surprise. I luv ya, Bud! But you'll just have to wait along with everyone else, hehe!

Well, this one's getting long, ain't it? Better close it down and move out smartly to my Next Objective. (I'd better think one up, first).

So ... the Big Closing Paragraph. <heavy sigh> Come back, Mish. Would you please come back? Doesn't matter where we go or what we do.  I just want you around, Bud! (Because I need writing material, hehe!)

No, really -- come on back, ok? Huh? Willya? Please?

Well, until then, all the best, take care ...  and always wash afterwards.

Yours Truly,