Chương 322: Day Three Hundred And Twenty

Dear Diary, As a kid, I always thought adults were all about power and wealth and doing whatever the fuck you wanted, since you had the money and the authority, but I'm coming to realize that unless you're a complete waste of oxygen, you only get that authority from taking responsibility for shit. I'm guessing that money's the same way. Again, unless you're a douchnozzle big enough to clean Olga's vag in one go.

Given how many people with ridiculous amounts of power and wealth are utter dicks about how they use it, I'm guessing there's some kind of filter that only lets utter dickheads collect more power or money than they need to get the job done. Then again, looking at me and Saffron, who I really hope don't wind up becoming yet another layer on the shit pyramid, there always seems to be a little left over. Like, money or power or whatever. Like, I get it. I'm rich now.

Even if after paying off the Duelist's Guild and getting everything sorted out, I've got no actually money dollars left, I'll still own at least a couple battleships, and if you think I'm not using at least one of the guns as a phallic object, you haven't been paying attention. Which is the kind of 'rich and powerful person' flex that deserves a little side eye, I guess, but if somebody came up with a convincing argument against one of me straddling one or all of the guns while they fire I'll not do that.

Now I'm wondering if people who collect all that wealth and power are really just super efficient or shit. I mean, other than shit taking way longer than I want it to, Saffron always manages to get everything done with whatever she's got at hand, so obviously there will be leftover wealth and power, right? Then again, super rich people back in the where and when of Eastside always left the job half assed, if they even finished it at all.

And my Kitten, who is my own personal definition of 'effective leadership' looks good all wealthy and powerful, has a prominently full ass, and never leaves me unfinished. Not by accident, anyhow. We're not gonna talk about what a certain sadistic bitch does when she's got a bug up her ass about my sense of humor.

So maybe the ones who are actually using that assorted wealth and power as intended are still gonna get the privilege of licking the beaters, which has an entirely different ring to it when you consider me, and Marie, and our Kitten's new Skill, but if somebody's just accruing that shit, they're obviously Not Getting The Fucking Job Done. Wait, does the same thing apply to, like, Godding? Shit, I wonder if Loki knows?

Daughter, if I even understood your question, I would answer it, but I'm afraid I'm a bit spun about by the whirlwind that is, well, you between the ears. Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Boss. Do the Gods who accrue all the Worship and Glory and squat on it like Cane Toads do on anything that resembles an organic hole get the Godding job done, or do they half ass it? Most of them, my own Patriarch and that of the Greeks included, believe the accumulation of Worship and Glory to be the entirety of a Deity's job.

Right, so they definitely fall in the 'half assing' category then. Unless it'd be better to measure partial assing with more granularity? Like, three quarter assing might be trying but incompetent, and quarter assing is straight up deliberately not doing the job? Paper rustled. Not to interrupt, but I assure you, both Odin and even moreso Zeus are utter and complete asses. No, not asses. Assing. Different thing entirely. But... didn't you mention something about your petite paramour's posterior?

You expect consistency from who again? That's like expecting Cane Toads to not fuck any open organic orifice. Ah. Point to you, Daughter. Thanks Boss, you're the best. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. I know. Yeah, yesterday I wound up spending an entirely frustrating day reffing, explaining, and showing sixteen Advanced Combat Training Cadets the finer points of shit wrecking.

I think the only thing anybody learned about anything is that when it comes to shit wrecking there is an entire world of difference between native talent and learned skill. Guess which one I have? By midmorning I hit my limit and decided to run laps. I mean, I still had to keep teaching, but I had one of me sprinting off the excess frustration while I did. Which, considering I'd never actually de-Co-Located from the Library Love Shack, tells you something about my frustration levels.

By lunchtime a whole squad of me ran endless laps around the perimeter of the Practice Yard. At one point I stepped one of me over to where duBois was giving some demonstrations of subtle differences in nerve pressure holds and asked, "can I switch classes and help you with Basic Combat Training?"

"Denied."

"Why not?" Without letting go of the hold he had his current demo partner in, he replied, "that class wouldn't push you, and those kids haven't figured out my Co-Location or Translocation tricks yet. You'd totally give the game away." By mid afternoon I Co-Located one of me to the Library and started looking for books on combat techniques. It took me the rest of the day, and I didn't get through more than a quarter of the main floor, but I found two.

I didn't have time to actually sit down and read them, because I figured even a shitty teacher who stayed present and on the job was better than one who zoned out to read a book in another room. By the time I got that far in my search, class had dismissed, and I just kinda forgot to actually sit down and read. I collapsed down to just the mes in the Library and kept searching.

I think it must have been around six AM when I found a third book, realized how late it was, and walked down to the front of the Library, where Sister Cheryl sat restoring some books. Of course she reminded me books weren't to leave the Library. I stood there, mouth hanging open, until my memory kicked in.

"Shit. Sorry. I'm stupid, I forgot." She straight up thwapped me with the stick she'd been using to smooth some papers.

"You are not stupid, Cadet Diaz. Forgetful, perhaps. Scatterbrained, definitely. But not stupid." I shot her a wry grin.

"Thanks, Sister." I Co-Located to our rooms, handed Sister Cheryl the originals of the books, and set my Co-Located copies on the corner of Saffron's desk. She looked up at me from her coding window and asked, "reading material?" I shrugged.

"DuBois has me teaching part of the class, and I realized that I don't really think about what I do much, so it's hard to teach."

"So... you brought home books about... fighting?" Her saying it like that made it sound even stupider than I'd thought. I reached for them.

"Yeah, I guess it wasn't..." She slammed her hand down on the books, slapping my hand incidentally in the process. Her other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me to her.

"I am so proud of you," she muttered into my belly.

"I know you, love. You'd read for pleasure any day, and you learn quite a bit from that, but forcing yourself to read something about something you already know? That will be a very unpleasant kind of torture for you." I rolled my eyes.

"You didn't have to say the part I was trying to ignore out loud." She looked up into my eyes, and the pile o shenanigans in the Love Shack reconfigured with surprising speed.

"Oh, but I want you to know exactly what I'm rewarding you for, love." I snerked.

"Didn't you say you were gonna save all that up for my Inevitable Day Of Reckoning?" She pulled back, set my books upright next to a few I only just now noticed she'd brought home for her own research, then looked back up at me, putting her hands on her cheeks and making the world's shittiest Kevin McCallister 'I am surprised' face.

"Oh, no. You have discovered my Nefarious Plan to lazily just accrue everything for that day, previously discharged or not." Some very confused butterflies roamed my general bellybutton region.

"Oh. Oh, my. I'm in danger." She laughed and hugged me.

"No, love." Then she looked up without pulling away, so I could barely see her eyes past my own tits.

"You will be."

"Oh shit?"

"Indeed." I thought about it for a second, and my thoughts drifted, as they might with the whole three to one ratio in the Love Shack.

"Nah. Not gonna worry about it. That's a problem for Future Tabitha." One eyebrow went up.

"Future Tabitha?" I nodded.

"Oh, yeah. She's great. When I've got no idea how to figure something out? I leave it to her. She's all over that shit. I need to figure out a way to thank her."

"Perhaps leave her some cake? Hidden love letters? Hire a squad of prostitutes to ambush you at a random later date?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"I'm almost afraid to ask your opinion of Past Tabitha?"

"That bitch? She deserves a hornet's nest shoved up her cooch. She'd just better hope I never figure out a way to get my hands on her." I kinda spoilt my reward, as all nine Saffrons of which I was aware lost it laughing at that point. Worth.