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My aching head

Posted by on February 11, 2012

Dear Diary,

It has been a few days since my last update, and I can only apologise for this. I’d love to write a full and detailed account of what I’ve been up to during those few days, but to be perfectly honest, Diary, I can’t actually remember.

It all started on Tuesday evening, when the poker game War and Famine have been threatening for ages finally took place. There wasn’t a great turnout, considering the number of invitations they sent out, and War went in a right huff. I tried to explain to him that – strange as it may seem – many people don’t actually want to spend several hours sitting in a cramped, draughty shed, but he still had a face like thunder for most of the night.

Just two people turned up in the end – Noah, who I’d insisted on inviting, and Ull, the Norse God of Archery and Ski-ing. I think the reason War was so annoyed is that he doesn’t particularly like Noah, and he absolutely hates Ull. Then again, everyone hates Ull. We’ve got no idea how he even heard about the game, but someone must have told him because up he turned at 7pm, all flawless skin and perfect teeth.

He thinks he’s just so perfect, that’s the problem. He considers himself one of the big league gods, which is ironic really, considering no-one has ever heard of him. There are even some other Norse Gods who haven’t heard of him, that’s how obscure he is. But to hear him talking you’d think God (our one) had mated with Odin, and he was the result.

Incidentally, I’m not implying God (our one) has or ever would mate with Odin. I don’t think either party would be open to that.

Ull insisted on calling War “Warry” all night. Or at least he did until War threatened to smash his face through the wall. He stopped calling him “Warry” after that and just called him “Sir”.

Despite being an obscure nobody-god, Ull is annoyingly good at poker. I lost half of my chips in about ten minutes. Famine lost every single one of his during the first hand, but fortunately we were able to perform the Heimlich Maneuvre and got most of them back.

Luckily, I wasn’t the worst player at the table. You can never be the worst at anything when Noah’s in the room. This is a man who, after saving two of every animal on the ark, then killed and burned one of each as an offering to God when they reached dry land. Seriously. It’s right there in the Bible! You should have seen God’s face. Bloody livid, he was. In the end he did that flying round the world thing like Superman does in the movie and rewound time so he could prevent Noah commiting genocide across the entire animal kingdom.

Don’t get me wrong – I like him. I think he’s a lovely fella, but he’s not the most switched on. Take our first hand of the game, for example. It came down to the point we were all showing our cards. War shows two sevens. Ull shows Ace/King. Famine shows a seven of hearts and a half-eaten three of clubs. I show a pair of Queens. All eyes go to Noah. What does he show?

Mrs Bun, the Baker’s Wife.

Honestly. It’s a good job he’s in Heaven most of the time. I don’t know how he’d cope in the real world.

It was shortly after this that Ull produced a flagon of what he called “Valhalla Special”. It was an ale, he said, directly from Odin’s personal stash. It smelled vile, and normally I’m not one to touch alcohol, but he kept insisting we all just give it a try. So I had a sip. One sip, that was all.

That was Tuesday. Today is Saturday. I remember nothing whatsoever of the days in between.

All I know is that I woke up today in a fountain, dressed as The Riddler out of Batman, and carrying a policeman’s helmet which I appear to have been sick in. Several times.

I’m back at the shed now, but there’s no-one else here. The cards are still spread out on the table, but other than that the shed is completely empty. I’m going to have a quick lie down and hope the others are here when I wake up.

But first to get out of this Riddler outfit. A lime green jumpsuit does nothing for my figure.

Your friend,

Pestilence


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