Whew!
This has turned out to be quite an adventurous week, Mortals --- by the time you read tihs, Tim Conngahan's Discover Santa Convention in Branson, Missouri will have been a rousing success; and the only thing left now will be for your Dragonmaster to post his next Letter from Manhattan to King Henry VIII's Royal Pages.
But lately, I've had to experience big ouchies in me feet. I may seriously seek out the aid of a foot-specialist apothecary, so I shall let thee know what is what as far as that goes. But in times like these, I need to talk straight with you, faithful fans and friends, for the time is coming when Blackwolf the Dragonmaster must reinvent himself. Yeah, being associated with Triumph may have been a novelty at best, and a pleasure cruise for some of you --- but it don't necessarily getcha the big bucks, people. Yesterday, I landed only a lousy seven dollars out of me photo op sessions; moreover, I threw in the towel when it became apparent that I simply could not compete with dueling boomboxes!
Look, people, when the High Istari assigned me this gig as New York's Unofficial Wizard, one of the things they expected me to accomplish was to encourage the spirit of happiness in my fellow New Yorkers. Some days, frankly, I often wonder if I've failed. Yet I press on because I'm not willing to admit defeat. I'm a stubborn sumbitch --- even for a 4800-year-old Wizard --- and I plan to go down swinging, by Merlin's beard, and if I have to step on one or two toes to make it happen, so be it!
Besides, I love New York City the way our Exalted Father of Mages, Merlin, loved Camelot. Yeah, sure, Merlin never publicly exhibited that love, but I think that he wanted more was to look good while casting his spells. As for me, well --- how else can I say it: I gotta be me. (No, I will not inflict me Sammy Davis, Jr. impression 'pon ye; I haven't time for that! [I'm not THAT cruel, you know!])
Oh boy, but I've annoyed ye goodly gentles about me ego long enough for now. Later, Lords and Ladies!
Master Blackwolf
But lately, I've had to experience big ouchies in me feet. I may seriously seek out the aid of a foot-specialist apothecary, so I shall let thee know what is what as far as that goes. But in times like these, I need to talk straight with you, faithful fans and friends, for the time is coming when Blackwolf the Dragonmaster must reinvent himself. Yeah, being associated with Triumph may have been a novelty at best, and a pleasure cruise for some of you --- but it don't necessarily getcha the big bucks, people. Yesterday, I landed only a lousy seven dollars out of me photo op sessions; moreover, I threw in the towel when it became apparent that I simply could not compete with dueling boomboxes!
Look, people, when the High Istari assigned me this gig as New York's Unofficial Wizard, one of the things they expected me to accomplish was to encourage the spirit of happiness in my fellow New Yorkers. Some days, frankly, I often wonder if I've failed. Yet I press on because I'm not willing to admit defeat. I'm a stubborn sumbitch --- even for a 4800-year-old Wizard --- and I plan to go down swinging, by Merlin's beard, and if I have to step on one or two toes to make it happen, so be it!
Besides, I love New York City the way our Exalted Father of Mages, Merlin, loved Camelot. Yeah, sure, Merlin never publicly exhibited that love, but I think that he wanted more was to look good while casting his spells. As for me, well --- how else can I say it: I gotta be me. (No, I will not inflict me Sammy Davis, Jr. impression 'pon ye; I haven't time for that! [I'm not THAT cruel, you know!])
Oh boy, but I've annoyed ye goodly gentles about me ego long enough for now. Later, Lords and Ladies!
Master Blackwolf
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