paradisa | 064. Down By the Seaside

[Dictated somewhat lazily.]

Alright, I haven't mentioned this in awhile and with the like... revolving door policy the castle likes to do, figured I should say something. Name's Brock, I have a little bit of land sort of southwest of the castle, off the main road to the city.

There's a community garden there if you don't feel like wishing for food or paying the townspeople with fake magic money. Which I totally get, by the way; it feels a little, uh... dishonest. Anyway, the garden's there for anybody who wants to use it. Just don't take everything without putting some work in too, alright?

I got a greenhouse too, in case you want to grow something out of season. There's also a smokehouse but I don't want anybody putting weird mystery meat in there so that's sort of off-limits, okay?

That's about all I wanted to say.

[A pause. Apparently he remembered something else, so--]

Oh, uh, if you see a little dude around the garden, that's just Frodo. So don't scare him or anything. He works for me.

[Vereesa.]
Hey. I'm guessing you went with everybody on that expedition, right? You back yet?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then you must be in dire need of a psychiatrist, to not deal with yourself. It must be hard to be insane and stupid.

Are you serious? Go back to grade school with that "I know you are but what am I" shit.

Am I serious? You do not question that the castle can grant your every petty little wish, that you can eat whatever delicacies you want, but you think it does not ask for something in return? Let me guess, you haven't discovered your loss yet. I can help: it was obviously the two brain cells you had before you got here, because the castle can be just as mean as it is kind.

But you will learn that when you spend time as a doll, or unable to stop singing and dancing and humping everything you see. Maybe this will be the year that the monster comes back and kidnaps all the children again! Let's see how much you trust the castle when the trees bleed.

[Tess is zeroing in on one thing there.]

Petty? Nothing I ask for is petty. You can go fuck yourself.

You first, pig-bitch. If you do not think a steak is a petty wish, then you should be ashamed of your priorities. Do us all a favor and wish to be sterilized so that you can never breed.

You don't know jack shit about me. Now fuck off before I get tempted to put a bullet in your head.

[Molotov laughs, tickled by the idea.]

Try it. I dare you.

I've got no problem with that.

Make it through the thirty angry bears, the booby traps, and my supply of grenades, and then we can fight, bitch.

[A derisive laugh!]

Bears? Seriously?

Thirty, all ready to tear out the throat of anyone who threatens me.

That's ridiculous.

Is it?

[There comes a low grumbling through the journal, animalistic and maybe a little sleepy. Certainly not human. Molotov is sitting on a rock with a grizzly bear, its head in her lap like a dog. She has poked it to elicit the sound.]

You should should tell Bonya, he is taking a nap next to me as we speak.

Sure. How about with an AA-12?

[Then the journal closes, abruptly. Joel!!]

[Well then. Molotov was about to make a quip about preferring her AN-94, but then she hears the journal close, so she shrugs and goes back to stroking the head of her bear.

She'll chalk it up as a victory.]