92 - Got a job with the Braxons.
joneworlds@mailbox.org

I need  some cash. Me  and a good bunch  of people
around here. It  seems a lot of them  were kind of
counting  on Pete  bringing home  some money  from
that job up north on  that highway, and sharing it
around, but that didn't work  out. So things are a
little bleak here  by now. There's just  not a lot
going on these days.

And so I hate to do it, but now I've got some work
from the  Braxon chieftains. Last thing  I want to
do is to get involved  with those crooks, but they
do got lots of money.

So  I show  up at  one of  their properties  where
there's some  stables I'll be mucking  out. One of
their managers shows me in  and hands me a shovel,
and she says the armor is on the hook by the door,
laughs  and walks  off.  What  the hell  does that
mean.

They got horses mostly,  and I'm working away into
the afternoon,  and these stalls are  really dirty
but I  guess it's not so  bad work. Then I  get to
the stalls near the end, which look different than
the others. That's when I see they got a couple of
baby dragons stuffed in there.

That  is so  beyond  stupid, that  I can't  hardly
believe it. But there are are. So I go put on that
shiny heat resistant suit  she had pointed to. And
I  feel like  some ancient  knight, except  with a
shit-covered snow shovel instead of a sword.

In the  last two  stalls on  the end,  there's one
full   of  goblins,   and  one   full  of   little
gnomes. Lord knows why.  And they're all so filthy
and miserable looking, that  I just about quit the
job  right  there.  I  can't  just  go along  with
this. But if  I still take the  Braxon's money and
at least  I'm helping make these  creatures' lives
just a tiny bit more bearable, am I doing good?

In   the    end,   I'm   not   much    for   moral
philophisizing. But I  do know I need  to eat more
often than I have been lately.