Quoted By:
"<span class="mu-g"><span class="mu-s">So itz Gorr Wokka narr izzit.</span></span>"
"<span class="mu-r">Yew knowwit. I've kept up me end. Bagged yer a bossy zappah from va Deep End. When's Dokk commen by. I warnt me rekkmendashun.</span>"
His voice goes a little softer. Cautious. Git's tryin sumfin.
"<span class="mu-g"><span class="mu-s">Day arfta. Mebbe day arfta dat. While yer waidn we can put you on eazy street: overwatch the pitz for breakout. Tower top view, no one bothering, nosh brought up twice a day. Do me solid; I'll round yer performance appraisal roit up spiffy.</span></span>"
>Dis fuggin git.
You take a deep breath as an alternative to taking his tongue.
"<span class="mu-r">I'z werked one day and night already; double shift, double risk. Pluz termarrer, pluz day arfta arfta, makes five days. I wuz spozed to werk wun. If yer warnt me clocking here four moar days, make me happy <span class="mu-i">till venn.</span></span>"
The moment his hand even half consciously drifts to the axx under his crate-n-plankk desk, you thrash it to driftwood. When he opens his eyes <span class="mu-b">Daggy</span> and GOLDIE are right over his eyeballs, and Daggy right under his ovva wuns.
"<span class="mu-r">Good word. Dokk. Termarrer. Teafast. Or I'z show yer wot I <span class="mu-s">REELY</span> did.</span>"
The mad light in your eyes persuades him chopsweet.
°°°
You spend a couple of hours boasting and showing orf, telling the Gobbz n Yobbz about all your adventures in the Deep End.
In your telling there were three pairs of blew bewbz, each melon bigger than your whole nogg, nippies twinkling like starlight.
And there were <span class="mu-i">four</span> Glassy Goombas; you only managed to catch the weakest one alive.
And many many lots Sordy n Rokky Goombas, each one like, like, the size of a <span class="mu-s">Ooger</span>.
Most of your listeners take you at your world, totally absorbed at your audacious kunnen killyness.
The Shammies think you're hamming; it carnt be possible this little titch took on that whole lot. It's only your elaborate descriptions of decor, items, zappies and all that make them doubt themselves.
When youve finished your epic telling the fires have burned low; it's near sun-up.
Strange: the winds have picked up. Colder too.
You watch as the ice from the Dunjjon mouf slowly, visibly creeps outward, about half a thumbwidth every ten beats.
You know in your gutt: itz the Dunjjon.
It's lost its DunjjonBosser, but she's not dedd. The Dunjjon is confused. And <span class="mu-b"><span class="mu-s">uPsEt</span></span>.
The next shift of clearers and wranglers don't go in: too dangerous with this wind. They want to wait see if it calms down; no sense wasting oil if it does.
You have an idea it won't calm down. In front of the Shammies you pretend to be puzzled with the rest of them. Of <span class="mu-i">course</span> it wasn't you.
DirtyNuggz comes to fetch you before teafast; Dokk got a heapy bigg Well Done from the Wrangler UnderBoss Gorrlovva, said YOU cleared 2 weeks quota of Bigg Catches in two shifts.
In two weeks your numbers will be legend: no one else managed to catch anything on account of this storm.
