The Sometimes Epic, but Mostly Ho-hum Chronicles of Haroldetta
Haroldetta Margaretta of the Apocalypse sprang into being through a horrible lab accident, but the dogs said they had nothing to do with it. Her name was meant to be Harold, but the powers that be wouldn’t stand for a pun of this magnitude.
After following the goddess Recliner for one year, Haroldetta Margaretta found the scroll titled: (Apologies to Robert’s).
The heroine hastily assembled a shrine, and proceeded to read the following:
1. Call to Prayer
A. A Member Seeks Recognition from
Recliner → I can’t heeearrr yoooou.
B. An Offering is Made → I already have
one of those. (Recliner Declines)
C. Priests Second the Prayer with
2. Offering is Placed Before the Altar
A. The Prayer is Debated by Recliner for
One Minute → Priests and Members Can
Vote to Pray Again While Recliner
B. Recliner Inclines → Suuuurre, why not?
(Now, where did I put that remote?)
C. Prayer is Adjourned.
The Chronicle of Haroldetta Margaretta of the Apocalypse, or…“What I Did During My Summer Vacation”
It was a lot of hard work carrying all those gold bricks, and I think I permanently threw my back out. Also, Pumba learned not to stand in quick-drying cement. (I will never find my keys again!) It turns out that Firefoxes don’t like being handled all that much, and the doctor says my skin transplant is coming along well.
The temple’s head priest nags me all of the time, “Say the whole prayer…none of this etcetera, etcetera business.” (And whose bright idea was it to invent those camouflaged shin-high kneelers?) The whole thing has left me with a headache in my temple.
First of all, how was I to know all of that gopher wood I found when I was Level 3 wasn’t for campfires?
I tried planting gophers, but nothing came up, and it seems that gophers are really cranky about that kind of thing. Pumba and I really need to gopher more wood now. We tried keeping a log to keep track, but Pumba ate it.
Oh yes. Omnipotent One, which is the Captain’s Log, and how can I tell?
Hey! I wonder if I’ll be able to sail the ark someplace where the taverns will give me credit?
This concludes my report on What I Did During My Summer Vacation. May I please get extra credit, Recliner?
To Whom It May Concern:
This is Haroldetta Margaretta of the Apocalypse. The real one, and not that fake one who goes from town to town, leaving unpaid bar tabs… ahem .
The ark is now finished, and I have finally gotten around to logging it into my chronicles.
First of all, I could find no throttle on this thing, in spite of my goddess’ somewhat nitpicky instructions. Secondly, it appears that I suffer from seasickness, probably from seeing too much. I tried sailing with my eyes closed, but that did not work out AT ALL.
Since the ark doesn’t come standard with a throttle, I hastily made a nice, colorful sail from my old bedroll. Using an empty beer bottle so as not to waste perfectly good beer, Pumba and I christened this vessel after my old, cozy blanket. Pumba was voted “most responsible”, and is Captain Pumba now. He looks very impressive with his captain’s hat and reading his Foxfire library.
Luckily, I found a new pet named “Tige.” Tige is worth all the gazebo splinters, because he’s the best little Dreaded gazebo, and loves sitting on my lap.
OMG, why can’t I feel my legs?
The Mostly Epic Chronicles of Haroldetta: and So It Goes…
My sweet little Tige has already reached level 30. They grow up so fast! My Dreaded gazebo has joined Pumba on . When I left him I was worried that the two wouldn’t get along, but as I peeked in, they were laughing like old friends. Oddly, they stopped abruptly as I came to say goodbye. I’m not worried though. The laughter started up again as soon as I closed the door behind me!
I have been very lucky to find my newest travelling companion: a Gummy wyrm named
“Woody.” We are becoming beery good friends, although he eats more than any other pet I have had.
Goddess, I have nothing more to report at this time, so tune in for the next exciting episode of The Mostly Epic Chronicles of Haroldetta,
- Will our intrepid explorer ever do something responsible with her life?
- Will she ever find a boyfriend?
- Will she ever gain the respect of her peers?
Tune in next week: same god time, same god channel…
Yay, I reached level 100!
Where are the brass bands? Where’s the beer? Where’s the party? Is this all there is? If so, I might be okay with it. At least nothing squished me or bit me. Yes, this is an entirely quasi-pleasant day. Almost not bad at all. Halfway half-decent, even.
This makes me very nervous!The Somehow Continuing, Allegedly Epic Chronicles of Haroldetta (perpetrating scribbles, stand by for more).
Where’s my pen? Oh, wait…
When I woke behind the potted plant, I crawled out and there was that weird dude in our guild hall again! Tall, hooded, doesn’t say much…I don’t know why he’s always holding that oversized hedge trimmer. Somebody could get hurt with that thing around. All he ever does is point at that yellowed old letter. I don’t want your bills, man! I have my own. Probably just Larry from Boatmurdered again with my bar tab. Whatever- I’m going out.
If he points at me again, and if he does it once more, I’m taking out a restraining order. He’s kind of a creep, but aside from that skanky old black blanket he makes a good coat rack.
I met my newest pet! His name is Patty, and he is a Hamburglar. I was hungry when I met him, okay? I must say, he’s a very good boy. He pulls useful things out of everywhere! But, boy is he ever sarcastic!