A Visitor...

The sun sets in crimson splendour over the wasteland, as I lean back in my chair and sip a can of beer luxuriantly. There's nothing like having an evil domain to lord it over, even if it is a rather small one. I think back over the day's events...

You know, something unusual happened right after I'd finished with the laundry. There was a knock at the door. This pretty seldom happens - they don't call it the howling/blasted wastes for nothing. When I opened the door, there was a girl standing there in ill-assorted and badly fitting armour. I wasn't about to complain about her dress - I was wearing ill-assorted and badly fitting set of Robes of Uttermost Blackness, which weren't actually all that black due to liberal quantity of soap bubbles and greasy marks from where I'd been scrubbing the deep-fryer. The girl turned out to be an out of work quest contractor, wondering if if I had any general quests that needed completing. It seemed the credit crunch had cast its baleful influence over more than just the evil wizardry sector. Actually, as heroic figures would go, it had to be said, she didn't really fit the classic image, unless the classic image was "slightly overweight, numerous freckles and large horn-rimmed glasses". Still, I suppose my own rather skinny appearance didn't exactly match the image of dark mage either.

I made it clear that there was no chance of any quests cropping up in the foreseeable future. You have to make it clear to these salespeople, or they'll always be banging on your door. I also made it clear that despite the outward appearance of a rather fine and impressively gloomy mage tower, there was actually nothing remotely in the way of valuable or magical items that might be worth stealing, unless you count my great uncle's Rod of Mystic Summoning which I currently use as a doorstop, being that it hasn't worked for over seventy eight years. The last time it had worked, it only managed to call up a Brussels sprout that could quote lines from Shakespeare, not terribly useful when you wanted a level 17 Black Beast of Hraath.

She looked quite crestfallen as I sent her away. I couldn't permit myself to feel entirely sorry for her, I am supposed to be a dark warlock after all, but I did feel some sympathy. After all, she was in the same boat I was. I didn't move to the Blasted Wastes for the lively social life, it's the peace and quiet and potential of setting up a grim and imposing wizard tower that I wanted, but I do admit some company that, unlike Grott, could actually speak let alone hold a conversation would be nice once in a while. She wasn't really all that bad looking, despite the glasses and everything... AH! I'm a dark wizard, I'm supposed to be plotting the demise of my enemies, not thinking about ineptly attired hero girls.


Still though, the only time I've had any amorous feelings towards anyone also coincided with the only time I've ever tried drinking one of my own potions, and I don't really think it counts as I ended up falling in love with an iced bun. Time for a flashback, I think....


I was walking down the baked goods isle in the local shop, my mind wandering aimlessly in a potion induced haze, when I saw her. Smooth pink icing covering her every contour, I was smitten from the start. The man in the shop seemed delighted that his iced cake had finally found love, it seemed he couldn't get me out of there too quickly. Her name turned out to be Suzanne, and our relationship rapidly blossomed. We faced a lot of prejudice from the general public, mainly due to the negative portrayal of sugary snacks in the media. We had to endure cruel stares as we walked the streets together or kissed in public.


Alas, it all had to end. A trip to a beach resort ended in tragedy. Rushing to cross the road in a freak downpour, she slipped from my hand. I was struck by a passing car. Looking down, all that was left of her was a sad splatter of dough and pink icing in the gutter. I contemplated ending it all, but realised Suzanne would have wanted me to carry on. It was a bleak time, but I tried to remain strong.


It was only later, when the potion wore off, that I realised the fundamental illogicality of falling in love with baked confectionery.


Well, there it is, my tale of woe. The annoying is that potion was only supposed to stop chronic sneezing. Oh well, mustn't moan. I'm not drinking any more of that stuff for any money, though.