Blackadder's Office: Thursday, 4/7
Edmund was not sleeping at his desk this week. Oh no. He was instead studying a neatly-written list. He'd found it on his bedside table Monday morning, when he'd awakened slightly muffle-headed from dreams about needing to shop for a poufier wig to better show off his new crown, and calling off his engagement to that rosebush now that his dad had finally shuffled porphyrically off this mortal coil.
He'd managed to throw a boot before he saw the note, and shout "Baldrick, what did you let me DRINK?" before it registered that the handwriting was his own.
It started (after the obligatory "Dear stunningly attractive younger self") with
1. Go back to work for the Teutonic twit
and ended with
69. Profit!!
It was the 67 items in between (one of which was "Brush up on your German grammar") that he was still perusing with a fine-toothed magnifying glass, days later. Edmund appreciated the heads-up, of course, but he'd apparently got a lot vaguer about details once he reached middle age, or just overly-reliant on his stunningly attractive younger self's ingenuity. How, for instance, was he supposed to afford a Kevlar Vest (once he'd figured out what one of those was) on a teacher's salary?
[Open!]
He'd managed to throw a boot before he saw the note, and shout "Baldrick, what did you let me DRINK?" before it registered that the handwriting was his own.
It started (after the obligatory "Dear stunningly attractive younger self") with
1. Go back to work for the Teutonic twit
and ended with
69. Profit!!
It was the 67 items in between (one of which was "Brush up on your German grammar") that he was still perusing with a fine-toothed magnifying glass, days later. Edmund appreciated the heads-up, of course, but he'd apparently got a lot vaguer about details once he reached middle age, or just overly-reliant on his stunningly attractive younger self's ingenuity. How, for instance, was he supposed to afford a Kevlar Vest (once he'd figured out what one of those was) on a teacher's salary?
[Open!]