Day Six-Seventy-Seven: Weeeeeee

ffnnnnnnnnngggghhhhh

let me kill him please

"Hey!"

I gritted my teeth, refusing to turn. I knew the voice all too well. It hadn't shut up for hours.

"Hey! Hey! Hi!"

My eye twitched. Libby grabbed my hand, either in sympathy or warning. Maybe both.

"Hey! Mr. Libby! Hey, can I hold her hand for a while? She's my girlfriend!"

Libby spun. "I am not your fucking girlfriend. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Behind us, flanked by a sheepish Logan and an amused Antonio, trailed by Fynn, Grylock and Jeffrey in their own conversation, Traveller grinned at the pair of us. He shook the sleeves of his oversized tunic playfully. "A few more! I don't remember things so well, my mom always told me. Or was that the duck? Ah, who knows."

The duck. Traveller had referenced 'the duck' many times. Knowing what I know, I assume he's talking about Plato. "Leave her alone. She's had enough of you for one lifetime."

Apparently not content to drop the issue, Traveller danced away from his brother (and a very relieved Logan - he confided later that Traveller smells like stale cheese, though I think he's closer to old bird poo) and joined us. He wormed his way between Libby and I, taking our hands with an innocent strength neither of us could ever hope to overcome. 

"There!" He swung his arms and skipped, dragging us along down the path of the Stalk. I flew perilously close to the edge, and my stomach gobbled my intestines in fear as my feet left the ground. "She's your wife, right? But she's my girlfriend! So it works! We can share her!"

"NO!" Libby pounded at Traveller's arm. He didn't seem to notice. "LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! HUSBAND COMES BEFORE BOYFRIEND!"

"Oh!" Traveller began swinging me around in front of him. A package full of dried meat fell out of my pack and tumbled off the side of the Stalk. "Like this? See, he's in front of me!"

"Traveller, I zink you are upzetting zem," Antonio called from behind us. "Perhapz you zhould zet ze Dragomir down, ya? On ze ground? Carefully?"

Traveller paused to stare at his brother. His unbandaged eye blinked slowly. He said something in reply; I'm not sure what, as I was too busy pissing my britches. He'd left me hanging half off the Stalk's path, my feet wriggling for purchase where there was none. 

"No, no, zat iz very far down," Antonio chided. "Zis ground. Vat you ztand on now. Zat iz much zafer. You do not wizh harm to Libby'z husband, ya?"

Apparently not. Traveller dropped me back on the path with the grace of a dopey child. Libby, prying free of Traveller in his confusion, ran over and helped me up. She wrinkled her nose at the waft of urine, but she didn't pull away. Yet that same scent seemed to set off Traveller again, and, assuming it was time to empty our bowels, he pulled down his pants and began whizzing off the side of the Stalk.

It's windy up here.

Golden showers.

You get the picture.

I can't stand this man. I've known a lot of dumb people in my time, but none have been so inanely vapid as Traveller. He probably wouldn't even realize he was dead if someone shoved a spear through his heart, he's so thick. Hell, I'm sure the only reason he's still alive is his ridiculous strength, which, I'm grateful, he hasn't used to hurt anyone.

Yet.

Stay strong, Dragomir. Have courage. You're almost at the bottom. And when you get there? Whoop! No more fucking Traveller. He goes one way, you go another, and that's that. Back to the journey.

Except...

Yeah. It won't happen that way. Will it? I just know it fucking won't.

Perhaps flying off the edge would've been wise after all,

Dragomir the Wanderer