Drenched and Confused: When A Dragonmaster is Left to His Own Devices!
First of all, the economy has sucked so remarkably bad that I herewith challenge my colleagues in Magecraft to name me a day when they have seen a darker financial situation. More to the point, thus far I cannot figure out where ol' Ik the Troll is, much less the present state of his well-being; I've not been able to get Adam Sandler's pal Brooks Arthur on the phone; Smigel's off co-writing Adam's next movie, working title to be determined; Thor, Muninn and young Tigerboy (now aged 10) are pretty much AWOL, e'en as the Burly One and his Queen are about to mark their wedding anniversary on this forthcoming Eve of the Samhain!
And as I await the arrival of Lordi's new album Deadache, with its single Bite it Like a Bulldog, I know they'll be taking Halloween Night off, to celebrate accordingly @ Castle Lordi; and beloved Elvira, Mistress of the Dark forsook ye Byg Appyl for Philly, to help the goodly gentles thither mark the Edgar Allan Poe Bicentennial (and, one presumes, schmooze with ol' Ben Franklin into the bargain).
And on top of all of this, Merdwin the Mediocre's father, dear Chuck, is in the hospital e'en as I scribble this; his doctors know not the nature of his affliction! Basically, Mortals, thus far things are quite disappointing for your humble Dragonmaster. "Surely, Master Blackwolf," you're doubtless saying unto thyselves, "you're not going to kvetch all morning, are ye?" YES, I BLOOMIN' WELL AM! And you'd kvetch, too, if you had to spend this idiotic week being left to your own devices! I shall not be happy until this Sunday's Medieval Festival @ Fort Tryon Park; no doubt there be no question as to mine integrity thither!