Sausages

I had a proper look around, these last couple of days, despite the crappy weather. And I realized: the humans around here should by no means be called krauts. True, that stuff is available at those market-like buildings, stored in tins (everything concerning human comes in tins). But I never once saw anyone actually eat it.
What they DO eat, constantly, is bread and sausages. It comes in various forms and tastes, and it is available literally everywhere. Humans enjoying their favourite pastimes (football, not internet-trolling) - who's already there? A sausage-seller. a remote place, deep in the forest, a carpark, and? Right. Sausageman. Or Sausagewoman. the humans do not seem to mind who sells that stuff as long as they get it, preferably with a slice of bread and some green stuff called mustard. THAT is fantastic shit, I tell you. And it does funny things to the nose, when you eat at least a mouthful of it. I love it all.
So, today I may proudly say I am a sausage-orc. With a mustard-mustache. Life is great. Fuck the rain.

Re: the golden-poo-year

I thought you might want to hear how that incredibly exciting adventure began, when five dragons were threatening our world and yet the year was named after metallic excrements. One day I might tell you the whole tale but today only the beginning. If you are wondering who the guys are that are having this chat, go back to older posts and do some proper reading.

Slaag: "This is NOT a dragon!"
Me: "But it is."
Groisch: "No way! It's tiny. I feel betrayed."
Vorn: "Now you know how your wife always feels."
Noden: "And it IS a dragon."
"A toddler - at most."
"Then stay away from it. It just hatched. I don't want it to follow us because it thinks you are its mom."
"Baby dragons are harmless."
"Then why are your pants on fire?"
"Hehe. Have you been talking to my wife?"
"Seriously. Your pants are burning."
"I'm not wearing any pants - just a loin cloth."
"Too much information !!!"

Year's End

She-human informed me that today the year ends. She also told me that the name of this year is 2014. How boring can you actually be? Chronological numbers? Seriously? And believe me, I'm not complaining because I can't count to that number (not even close). It's simply unimaginative.
Not so where I come from:

Boromir is dead. I did not do it.

Once and for all: I am not guilty of murdering Boromir. Get a grip, humans.
Ahem. Forgive the emotional outbreak. I am really sick of it. I mean, I slaughtered uncounted creatures for which you could blame me and I would gladly take credit. But this one I didn't do. From the day I arrived in this world people on the street kept accusing me of finishing him and also asked me about this Sauron. I had hoped it would end when I left London but that was obviously a mistake. So I asked she-human about it and instead of explaining it herself she showed it to me on the telly. It took me days to get through the whole thing. Clearly a work of fantasy. Let me tell you a few things about this Lord of the Rings and his minions:

Christmas? Vampires? I'm confused.

Humans are stupid. It borders on a miracle that this species made it so far. That, or there are no real vampires in this world. But then why do humans believe in their existence? I had a somewhat irritating discussion (whenever I use the word 'discussion' consider it a battle of yelling) with she-human about the matter. We seemed to agree and not agree at the same time which is definitely too much to grasp for my poor little brain.