Late last week I ran into an old buddy of mine, Horfengurgler of Potmead. He used to be a wizard of some note, but, judging by the fact that he was selling potions out of the pockets of his robe on a street corner, I suppose he’s down on his luck right now. The following is a transcript of our conversation:
Louie: Hey! Horfengurgler, my man!
Horfengurgler: Uh… huh? What? Oh hey… Louie… my … uh… dragon.
Louie: How’s things in the potions and cantrip business? Doing a little (ahem) field work I see.
Horfengurgler: Well, uh…. ya know how it is. Sometimes business ain’t so great.
Louie: I hear ya. So, what’s your speciality these days?
Horfengurgler: Ummm… I’ve been kinda delving into the … um… wart curing and toenail fungus arenas. There’s quite a lot of call for that kind of thing, ya know?
Louie: Well, yeah, I guess there would be. That’s good. Keeping yourself busy. Hey! Remember that time we were after Princess Lobelia in the West Potmead hills? She was a looker, huh? And her old man was so rich — all that gold! Those were the days, huh?
At this point in the interview, Horgengurgler broke down into uncontrollable sobbing mixed with occasional “Good old days…” blubbering and blowing of his nose on the sleeve of his robe.
I decided to end the interview on that note.