Monday, August 06, 2007

Dear Tara,

First of all, I know you're doubtless angry at me. Infuriated. Waving a sword around and cursing my name. I want you to know that's completely understandable, it's all my fault, and I'm sorry I didn't come home last night. Well, I guess you don't have nights in Skartaris, but you get the idea, right? Oh, you don't.

Those dogs are color-coordinated, how wild could they be?I fully intended to be home in time for dinner. You know there's nothing I love more than to watch those shaved apes you call a royal court tear into a 'dinner' that's equal parts botulism and salmonella. And I had just bought some flowers for you, and was on my way back, when I was attacked by a pack of wild dogs and knocked into a river. Sadly, your flowers didn't survive the attack.

Since you're the queen and everything, maybe you should make one of those court hangers-on the royal dogcatcher or something. That'll either thin out the dog packs, or the royal court, and that's what we on the surface world call a win-win. Those stupid dogs treed me on top of one of those Mayan looking pyramids that are all over the place, but I was able to finish them off. Without even shooting any, for a change!

I don't know if I'd hold a sharp object while I was balanced on a shifting pile of gold coins, but that's why I'm not the Warlord.  Well, that and body image issues.  Then I tripped a trapdoor on the pyramid, which dumped me into a treasure trove. It looked like King Solomon's Mines, or Scrooge McDuck's money bin...and I keep forgetting you don't get any of my references, honey. Sigh. OK, you know that pile of coins and shiny rocks in your basement? Yeah, the, 'royal treasury.' It was like that, only with actual valuables.

There were a lot of carvings and engravings in there, too. Most of them were dirty limericks, but there was a big spiel about the age of the Wizard Kings and the Evil One and a guy named Ironhand and a bunch of other crap that'll probably bite me in the ass later. Geez, I know a guy with an actual iron hand, but he doesn't go around blowing his horn about it. Anyway, I was going to pick you up something nice...So, it's somehow wrong to take the goblins' money, but OK to take their stuff.  Well, it's not like Travis has any pockets to put coins in anyway.

...when the trolls attacked. Man alive, they were tough ones too. All dried up yet still smelly, like that crappy jerky you always take when we go somewhere. Seriously, what's that made out of? Goat? Dinosaur meat? It's not spider, is it? I have to be pretty goddamn hungry to choke any of it down, yet there you are, chomping away on it like it's a Snickers bar. And then you'll want a kiss afterwards, and while I love you and I love the adventure of life in Skartaris, I really gotta bring some Pepsodent back the next time I'm on the surface world.

Where was I? Oh, right, the trolls. They caught fire in the sunlight, which was a lucky break, and admittedly kind of neat. So, I was ready to leave the pyramid, and I sealed it back up so you could use the gold later, to finance your war against the Therans. Why are they attacking again? Something about this whole, 'War on Thera' thing just seems like it could go south in a hurry. Well, you're the queen.
Tara?  Uh, little help here?  Honey?
Then came the weird part. Well, it seems weird to me, but you grew up in a land full of wizards, dinosaurs, and 24-7 sunlight and bondage swimsuit costumes; so you tell me. The black bird that was painted on my new shield came to life, picked me up, flew me I don't know how far into a thunderstorm, and dumped me on an island. Where I woke up on a beach, looking up some dude's skirt, which is a million miles away from where I wanted to be, honey.

Oh, not what I wanted to see first thing in the morning.
I know a lot of the time I seem restless at home, Tara; but every time I'm apart from you I realize how lucky I am and how much I miss you. This time, when I get back, no more wandering. I mean it. No more quests, journeys, sojourns, bar crawls, or expeditions. I'm staying home. Think I'll get a pet or something. Tara, you aren't allergic to cats or anything, are you?

P.S. It occurs to me I have no way of sending you this letter, but then again, you probably can't read. Boy, it's a good thing under Shamballan law you can't remarry no matter how long I'm gone, eh, hon? Hon? Tara?

Travis Morgan, USAF

Hot damn, I love old Warlord comics. From Warlord #31, "Wings over Shamballah" Written and illustrated by the incredible Mike Grell, inks by Vince Colletta.

1 comment:

SallyP said...

Guess Morgan was just having one of those kind of days, wasn't he?