Yes, my sons. I was there....

It was a dark day that day...

Filled to the bursting point with what we called "pizza" back then, the great Jobi and I waged a battle that grim Sunday. I chose to indulge in the sweet nectar known as "ale", as we were wont to do on such occasions, but Jobi declined on this day. No pollutants for him. No impurities for this holy day.
My tactical position was laying back, ready to spring when the time came.

Jobi, though....

Jobi was on the front line.

Standing ever at the ready, he was poised like a warrior prince overlooking the great plains of war, a great green expanse soon to be covered in the blood of merciless combat. And merciless it was....

Try as we might, the gods did not favor us that day. Long before it was over, Jobi and I knew hope was lost. From across the plains of battle, I saw him on a hilltop surveying the progress of our troops. Then he turned and we made eye contact for a brief second.... and I knew.

I refused to give up, though. If anything, that knowledge fueled a futile rage inside me; a surge of vain hope. And I kept fighting.

But it was too late.

In the end, Jobi and I managed to escape with our lives and what few forces we had left. On our way back to base camp, we came across another great siege. We looked on for a time, but the spirit had left us. It just didn't matter any more. Eventually, we kept moving; limping our way back into hiding...

What was it that day that caused this woe? Perhaps the men had too much to drink on the eve of their demise. Perhaps they slept too long in arrogance of their invincibility. Perhaps the enemy had a weapon for which we hadn't prepared. Perhaps the gods turned their gaze from us that day.

The one solace we took from that day is that both of us, Bloggi and Jobi, were still alive. And that, my boys, is all the hope we need....



-Bloggi out
"Baseball season is too far away..."