A Jaded Humgii

By: Mossis Posted on: June 17, 2004

Here I sit, watching you "higher" beings walk by. I am tied to a chain; waiting hungrily. I have my pride, I don't beg for food. The little sign attached to my collar does the begging for me. I wait patiently for you to feed me your scraps and garbage. If you happen to have something you no longer want, you throw them to me. Short swords and letters galore, you throw them at me. Watch as I open my mouth to unearthly proportions and chomp them to bits. At times, some silly oafs throw corpses at me, which I don't mind too much. I dispose of them anyway. Instead of offering them to a Divine, you offer them to me. In a way, I'm flattered. To think that you subconsciously believe and respect me like one of the Divine brings great joy to my little heart. Yet I'm still rated and recognized as merely an animal who disposes of your garbage.

Oh, look at yourselves. You take sharp pointy objects and stab at yourselves, causing blood to pour from the wounds, yet seem happy about it. But when other take sticks and poke you, you get angry. That makes no sense. You poke holes in your bodies to carry shiny baubles of rocks and pebbles. They're hard and shiny, but completely worthless. Not very intricate in design, just generally hoops and bars, but you wear them with such pride. Why anyone would put a piece of rock or shiny metal thing in their head, or any where else on their body for that matter? Idiots.

I wrinkle my nose at the stench as the females pass by. The overwhelming scent of flowers lingers on your bodies. I believe the purpose is to cover up the stench of the dead animals you wear on your bodies. A dead animal wrapped across your feet, another around your legs. And pity for the poor one draped across your chests. Its dead skin clinging tightly to your two mounds of fat and flesh. I watch you harlots and wenches thrust your flesh into the faces of your mates, and family members. Fascinating the males not with your intelligence or ability to work, but rather the ability to breathe heavily, and make high pitched noises capable of cracking glass.

The ones that don't wear the animals smell even worse. You're wearing bits and pieces of woven grass and weeds. Do you not know or understand how they come to be? How I fertilize the fields late at night while everyone else is sleeping? Yet you still choose to adorn your bodies with that filth. You take the time to knit it together so that it covers your bodies in a tight restricting manner. Why anyone would want to handle my fertilized weeds is beyond me. After you're done knitting it together, you slather on some ink, and decorate the thing. Obviously, deep down you know that it's basically humgii poop. I think the designs are meant to distract and help forget where those grass and weeds come from.

You disgusting mortal men are even worse. On top of wearing dead animals or woven blades of weeds and grass, the stench of fermented wheat and grains erupt from almost every pore in your body. You visit the local bars and taverns to waste away your precious gold. You pay fistful after fistful of your precious gold only to be drunk for a moment. You men have more fat and tissue around your waists than the women do in the chest, yet you're still fascinated by them. Then you go around waving sharp, shiny swords around in the air, each one seemingly carrying a bigger one than the last, with the end result being the one with the smallest sword getting mocked. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were over-compensating. But for what? That remains a mystery.

Oh wait. One of your young is passing by. I believe the affectionate term is "Newbie." I see his eyes darting around, holding onto his now worthless short sword. Over here!! Feed me!! I need food!! I see him look at me, and then look back at his sword, and look at me again. By the Logos, my prayers have been answered. Out of habit, I hold my breath as he walks by. I open my mouth wide to await the incoming meal. He tosses the sword in, and I chomp it to bits in a matter of seconds. As the bits and pieces make their way to my stomach, a bit of air is displaced, and I release the gases into the air. Your "Newbie" grimaces at me, and turns away, obviously disgusted by my odors. Good. Now I can finally breathe again. I cough as the air fills my lungs. Ok, so maybe it's not so fresh.

I glare at his back as he walks away from me. I yell at him in an incomprehensible language. "Fear me foolish Newbie. Fear my power, for I am Agatheis, the Elemental Lord. I am the controller of Earth, Fire, Water, and the almighty..." I strain to finish my sentence as I let out another gaseous release. "...Air." I hear a low rumbling, and I scramble for cover. Perhaps He has heard me. I brace for the impact of some Divine fire, but it doesn't come. The skies are clear, and the clouds puffy and white. Perhaps He didn't hear me, or maybe He's just the forgiving type. I hear the low rumbling again, and it takes me a moment to realize that the noise comes from my stomach. While Agatheis may have forgiven my moment of insanity, another one has cursed me with an insatiable hunger. So I sit here, collar attached to my neck, waiting for my next meal. Just waiting...