This is my first entry (oo-er, missus! Fnarr, fnarr! Etc, etc).
No, but seriously, this is my first diary entry. I’ve decided to keep a diary because… well, because there isn’t exactly a lot else to do around here at the moment. Or any moment, for that matter.
I’ve never kept a diary before. Well, no, that’s not strictly true. I kept a diary during the years when the Black Death was ravaging Europe, but that was more a statistical thing for research purposes, and all that oozing pus and anal seepage didn’t exactly make for pleasant reading. I’m not sure what happened to that one in the end. I expect Famine probably ate it. That’s what tends to happen to most things I own.
So yes, I’ve kept a diary before, but I’m still not entirely sure what I should write. I know I’m writing it for my own benefit, but I feel I should probably introduce myself, just in case someone finds these pages in the future and wants to publish them. I’d like that. I’ve always thought I have a book in me. And Famine has several. Literally.
Here goes, then! My name is Pestilence. No second name. I’m like Madonna or Cher in that way (and in other ways, but more on that at a later date). I am one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Yes, the ones in the Bible! I’m the first Horseman to be exact, so when a human being claps their eyes on me it almost certainly means the judgement of all mankind is soon to follow.
Unless, of course, I’m just out shopping. Buying shoes or whatever, in which case Armageddon is probably not about to happen (as long as War doesn’t find the receipt!)
If you could talk, diary, you’d probably ask me what age I am, and I’d say “guess”. You’d probably look me up and down and say “Twenty-eight. Thirty at a push,” and I’d say “Ha! You’re well out!” but I wouldn’t blame you for it.
Despite my youthful appearance I was actually created at the dawn of time itself. That’s right, almost nine thousand years ago! I was created by God, and by God those nine thousand years have dragged by. As I previously mentioned, I’m the one tasked with kicking off the Apocalypse when it eventually comes. The only problem is, there’s nothing else for us to do in the meantime, so we spend most days just sitting around in the shed and twiddling our thumbs.
Yes, I said “shed”. We live in a shed. I’ll explain another time.
Nine thousand years living in a shed with three other men isn’t as much fun as it sounds, let me tell you. It’s boring. Agonisingly boring. That’s why we’ve lost so many Deaths over the years – they’ve either quit, gone mad, or killed themselves. The current one’s acting a bit… odd at the moment, too. I shall keep an eye on him and see what happens.
He’s off out somewhere at the minute, but he’ll probably be back soon, so I’ll stop for now. Famine is busy stuffing his face as usual, and War is off “feeding the horses”. He goes to feed the horses quite regularly, but as our horses are supernatural and don’t require any food, I suspect the phrase is a euphemism for something else. I have absolutely no idea what, though. Maybe I’ll follow him one day and find out.
Speaking of horses, here’s a quick picture of mine, taken last year. Isn’t he a beauty?
Right, that’s War back. Going to see if I can rope him into a game of Connect 4 before Famine beats me to it. Cheerio for now, Diary!
Edit: Famine beat me to it. Bum.