Bah, these people and their events. They think that people should marry for love, and that the day of one’s birth is an excuse for merriment? Such foolishness!
Back in my home realm, we had many, much better excuses for revelry, like the seven-day feast celebrating the eradication of the filthy, disgusting gnome people in the War of the Stompy-Stompy Fun-Time. Oh, we had great fun stomping on those vile creatures during the war! And even more fun stomping on effigies of them during the later celebrations, which were actually painted baked potatoes.
Susan at work has been not-so-subtly asking everyone at work if they know the wedding marquees for hire around Melbourne, because as we are all very aware, Brad is going to propose to her any day now. It’s been ‘any day now’ for several months, and I’m being steadily driven mad. If she mentions it one more time, I’m either going to turn both of them into lobsters so they’re forced to mate for life, or I’ll brew them a Passion Potion that’ll make it so they have to spend the rest of their lives so madly in love that they won’t be able to take their eyes off each other ever again. Yeah, see how you feel when you have to sleep with your eyes open, Susan.
That’s marriage in this realm, apparently. You go into a white marquee, drink some alcoholic drinks that are nothing like my home realm’s delicious mead, there are terrible speeches, and then we are expected to ‘get up on the dance floor, nurrrr, nurr, nurr-nurr’. I do not approve of it. If Brad actually summons the courage to propose, and Susan succeeds in finding the best Melbourne marquee hire prospect, and they invite the whole office, and I am once again required to ‘get up on the dance floor’… I may be forced to take drastic measures.
Oh, I know the forbidden black hole spell. If Jeanette once again drags me onto the dancing stage and tries to ‘woo’ me with her inappropriate movements, I’ll annihilate this entire planet. Don’t think I won’t.