Comic Relief at My Expense, As Often Is the Case (SBH Pt. 138)


I used to write on Ficly.

The wind gusted right at that moment, as if to punctuate Al's words.

Tsering broke the silence. "Obaku and Hyakujo."

"A, I doubt there are five hundred mes running around," I replied, "and B, I am not a fox. And come to think of it, why are you bringing this up, anyway?"

Tsering simply smiled.

I wagged a finger at him. "Don't do this to me. Don't go all Zen Master."

"Life," he laughed, "is suffering."

"Don't I know it."

"Um," interjected Zoe, "what's going on here?"

"An old joke," I replied. "Several hundred years at least."

"We'd better get a move on," Al deadpanned, gathering what unbroken items he could. "If my oculars are correct, things we'd best avoid are going to start happening pretty soon."

"What sort of things?" I asked. (If you haven't already gathered by now, if Tsering is a Zen Master, I am a Dumb Question Master.)

Al shot me a look with those glowing green eyes of his.

"Oh," I fumbled, "right."

"There's a bunker about a kilometer from here," he announced. "There we can regroup."


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