A Meeting with the Staff

Jake strode into the conference grove of the Doowid’s Staff Union with all the confidence of someone that know what he was doing, that he is not to be trifled with and that whatever he wants he will get. There were nine people, all with robes of varying colours, and staffs (the wooden stick ones this time) of varying designs, and long hair and long beards, except for the women. Well, they had long hair but not long beards, I mean to say. Although one of the “men” may have been a woman wearing a false beard, it’s hard to say.

Ahem… I’ll carry on with the story then, shall I?

In a strong baritone voice Jake announced to the waiting Union, “I am here to meet the terms of he, whom I represent.”

“You received our message then?” A woman stood forward, a tall broad woman with a voice as equally baritone as Jake had affected. Glistening white robes flowed and folded around her, dazzling even the blind moles digging under her feet.

“Yes, I come with the droowid’s demands!”

“Hah! Demands?! What is he doing making demands? That good for nothing droowid takes all the credit for our work. We get no acknowledgement and no respect from him, nor from the trùyb! We demand… yes that’s right, WE. DEMAND… that he stop his fraud right away and let us get all the credit we deserve!!!” She glowered at Jake, fixing him with a stare that had the power to melt and evaporate any person in the world. “And what, pray tell, are his terms, for what they’re worth?”

Jake had found confidence from somewhere. Usually he’d be quailing under such authority, but he knew what he was doing, and for sure knew he would get his way in the end, and he knew this for one reason, “Desperation,” which in his current position wasn’t too alien a concept to him.

The Droowid’s Staff Union all looked very confused, wondering just what was happening. I mean, no one makes “desperation” as part of their demands, do they? They wondered if this was a trick of some kind, concocted to confuse them.

“Yes,” said Jake in a most affable and calm manner, “desperation, and complete and utter submission to your terms are the droowid’s terms. And he won’t accept anything less than that.”

Something so straight forward takes a while to compute when you’re expecting something different, something much more complex.

“Erm,” began another of the staff, “What kind of desperation?”

“Knee-crawling, ankle-grabbing, feet-kissing, loud-sob-noise-making desperation. My shoes are soaking wet from it if you must know.” Jake’s fluent confidence certainly seemed to convince the Union. They could perceive no trick, and the description really did match up to what they knew about the droowid.

“Settled then,” said the woman, and took Jake’s hand in a firm shake.

Out of everything Jake had experience so far that seemed to be one of the easiest. He could get used to Imagi-Nation after all. At least some of it.

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