During one of those old-school websurfing binges, you know the kind, where you click and click and click with no idea where you’re likely to end up, I came across a LiveJournal posting exhorting fanfic writers to write a letter to themselves from one of their characters. Well, I’m no fanfic writer… in fact, I’m no sort of writer at all. But there is a character in my head who refuses to go away no matter how much I insist I won’t write about him…
Dear Karel,
You really let it get away from you, didn’t you? It’s possible, I suppose, that you just plain ran out of ideas. This seems less likely than the possibility that you got tired and gave up. There are ideas out there, ripe for the picking. You used to derive plot elements and scenes and locales from the oddest sources. What went wrong?
Hell, do you know where you’ve left me? Do you? You parked me inside of a mountain. With Jon, of all people. It’s not that he’s bad company, mind you, or a lousy business partner. No, it’s just that he’s not a very good bartender. Guess who that leaves minding the storefront more often than not? You only get one guess, the next two don’t count. I’m trying to hire on additional help, but you try finding reliable employees who don’t mind a crossdimensional commute at least four days out of seven. So far all of my prospects either can already travel across the facets of reality, in which case they don’t need the modest but respectable paycheck I can offer, or they are overwhelmed by the circumstances and afraid to show up for work the second day. Or, sometimes, the first.
I’m not cut out for this. Oh, it’s not that I mind being tied to one location for a while. It’s nothing like that. Hell, the very nature of the establishment means that I can come and go at will. No, it’s this whole business of… well, business! Military life was easier on my nerves, to say nothing of my sense of individualism, than this nonsensical life of customer service. You wouldn’t believe the sort of clientele I’ve had to put up with in just the few months since we opened the bar.
Remind me to tell you about the pack of sauropods that came through the other day. Surprisingly tidy they were, but rather rough on the glassware. Who knew that lizards had such a tradition of drinking songs?
Please, give me one of two things. I need either a way out of this life, or something to make my stay here more interesting. And I think you know the kind of “more interesting” I prefer. I don’t really care which, anymore.
No, wait. I want one other thing: a competent barkeep. I need some rest, damn it all.
Thanks ever so much,
Andrew K Wolfe,
Co-Owner, Chief Cook And Bottlewasher,
“Andy And Jon’s Whistle Stop”
