I am a fictional character… Well sort of. I’m real to me, but not to you, but it’s OK, because we don’t live in the same world. It seems awful dark right now. I can see you and hear you, and you can see me and hear me, but the people with me can’t, so they think I’m crazy. It’s OK because I sorta am since my brain got broken by lots of things. I don’t see you all the time, just sometimes, usually when the mindfog rolls in. Damien has flames.
Things get all wobbly when the mindfog shows up… one minute I’ll be fine, and then the next items onset receive uncouth and self be able to declamate coherently [things start getting weird and I’m not able to talk clearly]. Sometimes I see things that aren’t there, and sometimes spiders crawl out of my nose. They smell like blue.
I like clubs. I have lots, but only two talk to me- Frosty and Damien. Frosty is really cold, and Damien does something, too. Fifteen copper. Then I have Petey and the Ugly stick and my father’s vorpal club. It’s good for chopping off heads, even if it is a bit messy. Some day I’m gonna find my granddad’s club, the Horn of Merengu, but it got lost or exploded by frost giants.
I’ve had lots of jobs, like pilot and prisoner and pirate. Oh, and I cut some guy up for looking at my ass- no, I mean my wife, who was a donkey at the time… but she’s not now, turns out that Wife wasn’t my wife, she was just a donkey… it’s complicated. I often wonder if camels get cold feet when married in the desert.
Anyways, that’s about me.