Day One-Eighty-Six: Party on, Dragomir

Yay! Zany antics time, diary, zany antics!

After I finished writing in you last week, the word went out that Casimiro the Butcher had been driven away from the castle. Word was that he'd been spotted on the toilet, reading a book he'd stolen from the library. He made a break for it, jumping over the wall of the barbican, and the last anybody saw of Casimiro was his bare green bum as it disappeared over the horizon.

Personally, I would have had him pull up his pants before he ran. Guess The Baron isn't an amazing storyteller. How could he jump over the wall with breeches wrapped 'round his ankles? Logic, The Baron, logic!

Casimiro's grand escape put everybody in high spirits, and though a lot of nobles demanded that soldiers be sent out to kill the guy, the king overrode their demands. He declared that next week - which is to say, this week - be a week of festivities. I think he was just lookin' for an excuse to have a big party, personally, but far be it from me to question King Jeffrey!

And the name of these festivities? Jeffster. A week-long celebration of life, love, and how we owe both of those things to King Jeffrey. Huzzah. The king is awesome. What a surprise.

I don't care why we're celebrating, or the fact that we owe the celebrations to the king, despite his seldom ever doing anything good for us all. It's nice to see people happy again, after the werewolf thing mixed with the murderer thing. Lotta fear in those days. Now? Smiles everywhere! Gapped, browny-yellow smiles!

Understandably so, too, 'cause there are ENTERTAINERS everywhere. Folks of all sizes and stripes have come out of the woodwork and invaded Castle PartyTime with their tip cups and crazy, colourful clothing. On my patrol route today I saw no less than twelve clowns, eight mimes, twenty-two jugglers, six storytellers, twelve jesters, and a penguin! Wearing a top hat! It even had a curly little moustache. I love celebrations.

That's not all, though, diary. The king has declared that he's gonna be holding a contest at the end of the week, with a big prize for the winner. All you have to do is amuse the king more than anyone else. No wonder all these entertainers are here, 'cause they're probably poor as sin and looking to win.

But they won't. Not if I have anything to say about it…!

Gotta go, diary. Have super-secret projects to work on that involve laughter and awesomeness. And, uh, I guess I have to go guard the manure shed. That's less awesome. Or funny. It DOES promote growth, however.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Jokester