crafty_clive
in
1811
Search for the self
So, after waking up in 1811 for a few days in a row and doing nothing but wandering the streets in search of answers to questions I can't even begin to ask anyone here, I've decided that there's only one more place to look. Or rather, one more place to look again.
You see, I was told I'm the local blacksmith's apprentice, and the other day I woke up - quite hung-over, I might add - in front of his shop. But since I'd already missed a few days on the job, and since drunkenness isn't exactly the sort of first impression I usually strive to make, I opted to try my luck at a nearby pub where people actually seemed to know me.
I learned a few things about myself there. I think the gist of it is that I'm sort of a womanizing drunk with a penchant for gambling and communicating in clicks and grunts, more or less. Basically, I'm an asshole.
I sort of find it perversely amusing that in order to actually become my father I had to go back in time.
Will wonders never cease?
*knocks on the door to the blacksmith's shop, only then realizing he really has no idea just what the fuck he's going to say*
You see, I was told I'm the local blacksmith's apprentice, and the other day I woke up - quite hung-over, I might add - in front of his shop. But since I'd already missed a few days on the job, and since drunkenness isn't exactly the sort of first impression I usually strive to make, I opted to try my luck at a nearby pub where people actually seemed to know me.
I learned a few things about myself there. I think the gist of it is that I'm sort of a womanizing drunk with a penchant for gambling and communicating in clicks and grunts, more or less. Basically, I'm an asshole.
I sort of find it perversely amusing that in order to actually become my father I had to go back in time.
Will wonders never cease?
*knocks on the door to the blacksmith's shop, only then realizing he really has no idea just what the fuck he's going to say*