mythopoeics

[His fingers are filthy from digging up lord knows what but he doesn't care. He runs his fingers over the paper, over that particular crease above, knowing the dirty stains will show up on the paper.]

I see a cat. It's fluffy, lost half an ear. Bit dirty.

Shall I leave it alone? I think it may have given birth a couple of days ago. Four, five kittens. Unless that was another cat. Too many fucking cats. I like dogs. Better friends to man. And I'm a man. So dogs it is.

By the way, before anyone freaks out on me, I'm just asking a question. A weird one. I'm not telling you what I may or may not do. It could be nice. It could be mean. I'm not telling.

As I close up on a rather fruitful week-long stay at one of my favorite watering holes in all of Camlann I find myself considering where I should look for temporary employment next. I thought about just getting in my little caravan and driving until I found a place that seemed in need of entertainment, but then I realized it's winter and I'd rather not overwork my poor horse. It occurs to me that there might be someone who knows of someplace in need of a minstrel, and I just happen to be one of those musical types who enjoys broadening her horizons.

So, if anyone could offer suggestions, or perhaps even be in need of a ride someplace for a small fee, do let me know.