The Orcish Heptathlon

If I remember correctly I have already told you that I am about to write a book about the origins of orcs. Here is a short excerpt that deals with orc sports in particular.

Whenever two tribes meet this does not necessarily end in hostility. Fellow tribes usually celebrate their meeting with some competitive fighting, called the Glorious Games. Competitions might vary in form but the following is an often observed version:

1. Carry the family

This is to be taken literally. The whole family has to be carried over a set distance. Whether all members cling to the strongest at once or the fastest member carries each one separately is up to the families participating. Important is that only one member is allowed to do the carrying, no part of any other body must touch the ground. Childless monogamists are disqualified by rule and tribal honour. The number of family members is not as important as the overall weight of the whole bunch, so three really fat children count as much as six skinny ones, for example.

If I may be allowed a personal note here: The last time I entered into this special competition, I carried two of my wives on my back, the youngest child clung to my leg, and another tried to balance on my head. Unfortunately it covered my eyes with its arms and I stumbled into a river instead of reaching the finishing line, being not only disqualified but also very humiliated.

Again? Really?

I have this bloody stupid flu again. I mean, how is that even possible? My whole life I've never had such a stupid illness, and since I came here it is the second or third time? This is humanity trying to gain the upper hand. But I shall not be overcome by mucus or cióughing fits. I'll stay firm in the face of things that come..., well, out of my face.
But right now, I think I may have a bit of a lie down. I'm rather hot. And for once even I know that it is not very appealing to she-human or anyone else.

The Agency

I have been informed that in this world humans who are without employment have to visit The Agency. The whole idea of not employing yourself by simply doing whatever it is you usually do is very unorcish indeed.
Humans have to go there in order to find employment. They have different names for it, employment agency, job center, dole office. It all comes down to The Agency making sure that said humans get a job. Or so they say. They boast to promote reinstatement, further human's career, and - even more important - they handle the unemployment benefits. If I got that right it means, humans without a job get money for doing nothing. Makes me wonder why anyone would ever think about taking a job at all. She-human explained that The Agency has come to that exact conclusion as well and so they make the humans take any job or else: no money. Problem in this world: no money - no fun.

So, there we are. Unemployed orc.

Sentimental Orc

She-human is reading a book about orcs in space. Looks fantastic, I'd like to do that myself. On the other hand, it probably means, I need to get inside more tin cans. Not a very pleasant thought.
Anyway, some of the pictures in the book show orcs in their battle outfit and it reminds so much of my fellow comrades that I'm getting really sentimental right now. The heads of his slain enemies that Slaag would wear on a pole over his own head as trophies, that's a real looker. I miss him and his stubborn ignorance. I even miss my son in  law and his unpredictable usage of fireballs. Frankly, I would give a lot to be hit by one of them for once. I would cheerfully bear the noises Groisch makes when he jumps his wife. I would even go so far as to say I'd like to see and hear my family. Yes, I admit it. I miss the whole bunch. And now I will give in to that sentimental notion and have some drink. Copious quantities of alcohol are always an answer and solution to an orc's sentiment. Cheers,

Unexpected problems

I've been very busy these days, writing (dictating) my book about the origin of orcs. My chosen name for this -Thracitus - still has a nice ring to it, although orc-purists may say it sounds a bit too scholarly - and therefore unorcish - , which is absolutely right. But writing a book is in itself a traitorous act in some way. My comrades should probably never know about it. But what are the chances right now, ey? And what do I care? I do whatever I want. Dare to contradict me.

Orc got the blues

Finally I found something that gave me hope about the human race. And his name is Muddy Waters. What a great name. She-human said that he died over thirty years ago, but  -  all praise to human technology - I can see him on this electronic device. If you never heard of him, you only got yourself to blame. I added a link to one of his songs, in fact it is the one song, that made me reconsider my opinion about humans in general. A race that can produce a man like this can't be all bad. And this special song is so much a bout me it's actually frightening. He got balls, let me tell you that. So do I, you did know that already, right? You better nod silently, or else I come and get you.

Strange thing is, while I was mesmerised by this incredible song and the even more impressive singer, she-human seemed to drool over the sight of one of the skinny pale guys in the background. I will never understand her. Anyway, when I get home, I'll tell my folk about the Blues. It's gonna change orcish life forever. And for once, change will be good. Very good.
Watch this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ01bSEh4fI

She-human said that it might not be allowed to show that song (something to do with copyrights) but I mean, seriously? This amazing song should not be kept from anyone. Also: I am an orc, so what do I care about laws? I do not even understand it, anyway.
I am a hoochie coochie orc.

Married or not married, that is apparently a question

Now, here's a thing: I have been reading some stuff on the interweb and found something strange. It seems that quite a lot of he-humans of a certain type keep their marriages a secret from the public. I wondered about it and asked she-human who came up with a typical human - and therefore confusing - answer. Let me elaborate:
It seems there are some young males that might be called famous for some thing or other, being successful especially in the music or film business. Those men marry just like any other members of the species but they seem to hide that fact. That in itself isn't what bothers me. There might actually be good reasons to do that, like getting more wives, avoiding evil stepmothers, or even more evil and jealous rivals, and so on.

I am great. In every sense of the word.

She-human has a very strange habit (she has several of those to be precise, but I'm trying to focus here, so shut up), she likes listening to someone reading a book to her. That in itself is NOT odd, as I like doing that myself, when she reads to me. But this someone that she listens to is not around. Those people have recorded their reading on tin, just like the iron butterfly did with the song I liked so much (see one of the previous posts). So, she quietly sits on the couch and listens. She doesn't do anything else and hates it when I interrupt it (yes, I like doing that all the more, of course). When it first happened I thought she was dead and tried to get rid of the body. Big mistake. Won't try that again.