So I had to give Tres another report last night. Felt a little manky about it. I told him about Bucky being a spy and all, but I also told him it was my idea. I don't think Bucky would have minded with me making it look like he was working for us and all. If Tres knew what really happened he would have had a good laugh and barred Bucky for at least two lives.
Of course Tres wanted to know what was so special about this little girl. I saw that one coming and told him I had my suspicions someone in the family was working for the Administration. Bucky himself had seen this little tyke drive off a hound of hell with a twig. That one actually raised an eyebrow on old Tres's head and got Bucky authorized all formal like.
Then Tres says to me, "We need to talk to you about your accent."
"Accent?" I says. "What Accent?"
"Your Amero-Cockney-Judea-Slavic accent or as I like to say Lessor Demon."
Grrrrrrrrrrrrr... I don't like being call no Lessor demon. Just because I ain't been promoted in a few thousand years don't make me no lessor demon. They don't send lessor demons to the real worlds. I was a full fledged, blood and guts, slaughter slinging, power crazy demon of detention I was. The lessor demons bowed down before me when I walked into a room!
Then I got this here "promotion" to "Field worker Forward Observation - Recon Third Class". Had I known I'd be working for a third rate monkey boy that'd only seen the gates 'o hell once in his existence (bloody beautiful they are, first time I saw them I cried like a baby, they's in the Hellspawn's Inifinite Registry of Historical sites to see before you die again), I never would have taken the job.
"See exciting places! Exotic lands! Strange cultural habits like cooked food and septic systems!" That's what me old boss said. Pah!!!! What a crock!
Anyway Tres says to me, "I'm afraid you're going to give yourself away and I'm afraid your accent is keeping you from fitting in and getting me the kind of Intel I need. You need to talk more like a modern American."
"Like this then... Hey Tres you MoFo Som a bitch? Wazzzz happen' with your cranky ass?"
Tres smiled like a snake he did. He knows I wasn't just haven't a bit of fun, but he's cool that one. He just says, "They don't use the word cranky much over here. Keep working on it. Dismissed."
Grrrrrrrrrr.... Dismissed. Just like that. Oh, he knows how to get under my skin like a pack of soul ticks he does. Dismissed... one day I'm going to dismiss his cranky ass with the edge of my dullest blade...
-Aimless
