Something I wrote for another site

ZP had this thing a few years back where we would write thematic stories on each of the Zelda games in sequence. Here's the one I finished:

GAME: Twilight Princess
THEME: Monsters

Ugh. Another day, another dollar.

Wait, the hell is a dollar? That doesn’t make any sense.

It doesn’t make any difference, either, because Ganon isn’t paying me jack squat. I’ve got a wife and kids to feed, you know. It’s not that easy to do on ten rupees an hour. No, my mother is not proud, and I can’t say I don’t agree with her. How would you feel if your son joined Enterprise Rent-an-Army? Let’s just say that Thanksgiving dinners are very tense.

But enough of that, I’ve got a steady job, unlike that punk brother-in-law of mine. He just wandered around in Hyrule field, always drunk off his ass and threatening the fishes and rabbits with their imminent demise, or something like that.
Ah well.

This guarding the middle of nowhere gig is pretty nice, although I can’t say I like the weather. Too hot during the day and way too cold at night. Didn’t realize that I should have brought that ridiculous L.L. Bean parka my Marie bought me Christmas before last. Granted, then I was going up to Snowpeak, but that fell through. Praise be to the goddesses.

I was at little Mae’s piano recital the other day. I had a day off. She was playing a Strauss waltz, bless her. She’s got talent, that girl, and I don’t mind a bit if I’ve got to skip out on my poker games to pay for her lessons.

Speaking of poker, there’s Mark. Mark and I go way back. We were buddies in high
school, dropped out of the same college, and until a few years ago, we played some intense poker matches. Then he started getting into Texas Hold ’Em. We’ve had our discussions about that. I argue that it’s not poker at all, but he seems really taken by it. Poor guy. We’re still friends, though, and we have each other over for dinner all the time.
Speaking of dinner, lemme head over and check out this boar.

Yeah, so there’s Mortimer, better wave. Oh, and Mathieu, Milton, Malachi, all good friends. Man, sometimes I regret all this, but with buddies like these behind me, it’s all worth it.

Ah, here’s the boar. “Looks like this is cooking up real well, isn’t it, Micheal?”
He looks up from his doze. “That it is. We’ll dig in after the second watch, I think.” Something to look forward to, then.

Ah, sunset. I’ve got to admit, there’s nothing quite like a desert sunset. It’s as if all the sky’s aflame, and we can do naught but marvel at what the goddesses have wrought.

Back in college, I was an English major. I figured I could get lots of girls by just wearing a stupid hat and growing funny facial hair, and it worked, but then I found out I had to actually write papers.
I kept all my books, though. They’d been gathering dust on a shelf while I married Marie, had Mable, Martin and Mae, worked my way in this mercenary gig. But a few weeks ago, I started to feel…I don’t know. Empty, maybe. That’s not the word, but I don’t know what is. So out of curiosity, I picked up The Tempest.

It set my brain afire! The power of words, the beauty, the majesty! I couldn’t get enough!

I finished most of my Shakespeare in a week and moved on to the Greeks. I can’t say I cared much for the Theban plays, but the Oresteia moved me to tears. And the Trojan Women? High tragedy at its finest!

I’m reading the Odyssey at the moment. I can’t help but feel ambivalent about Odysseus. I mean, look at the guy- wait, what was that?

Oh, nothing.

Anyway, look at this Odysseus character. Yes, he does piss off Poseidon, but Poseidon hardly got a fair account of what happened and overreacted, and Odysseus was definitely wronged, but- Wait, what’s that sound? Eh, probably one of those jumping sand monsters. Nothing for us to worry about.

Even so, it won’t hurt to give a quick look-see.

Hmm, that weird block of masonry is gone from the little mesa all the way to the south. Eh. Easy come, easy go, I guess. Nothing odd, though.

I wave to Maxwell up on top of the guard tower. He waves back and goes back to his whittling, while I pick up my book. Ah, yes. Penelope and the suitors. Odysseus doesn’t deserve a woman like her, stupid bastard. He lays down with everything in a peplos, while she stays true to him for twenty years? That’s hardly fair.

I’m just getting to the end of the chapter when the sword hits me in the head, sending me flying. I didn’t see it coming; my own sword is trapped under me. I roll to get up, but in an instant, there’s a green-clad Hylian flying through the air at me, sword point down. It crushes my sternum, and I can feel my stomach burst. It’s not fun.

Maxwell screams and reaches for his bow, but it’s too late for me. I die, I die, I -