Grumpy has given some thought to this holocron business. Not a whole lot, but some thought. Grumpy has an idea of what his dream holocron would order him to do…NOW…BEFORE HE LOGS OFF.
First, Master Architect…haha. Then, Master Merchant…haha. Grumpy could be halfway done already!!! Master Marksman, hey yo dawg, how hard can it be to kill spineflappers with 3 different types of weapons?
Then, because his holocron would only suggest 4 different professions…Master Artisan. No moving off his starport floortile would be required.
Grumpy’s gf/business partner, he figures, would have a much different idea of the perfect holocron (which would cost Grumpy most of his fortune to purchase if he was that stupid, which he is not). She would probably like Master Weaponsmith, because getting a leg up on an arduous journey is appealing to both the genders. Then probably Master Dancer, maybe Master Tailor, Master Image Designer (there’s a fate worse than death) and Master Chef. Basically, any profession that Grumpy would have to run all over the galaxy to help her with would be appealing to her.
Grumpy can see already that his dream holocron could be credit-productive, and hers, well, not so productive.
Grumpy’s been around the block a few times, he’s been down this street more than twice. He hasn’t been around the block quite as many times as his gf tells everyone, but it’s been a few times.
Grumpy knows what his holocron would really tell him:
“Dear Grumpy…you and us, we’re sworn enemies, now it’s a little payback time…for us.”
“Master Squad Leader. For every bug, server burp and 12 hour patch you ever /petitioned /emailed or /tell’d about in EQ and in SWG…you do Master Squad Leader, ya *EXPLETIVE*-er.”
“TK Master, because real men fight with their fists everywhere except in this MMORPG.”
“Master Image Designer, because it would kill you to cut hair for a living, on your feet for 12-hour stretches at a time, listening to who’s cybering whom, as if you cared.”
“Master Chef, because everyone knows you aren’t gonna get it by making hot dogs and spaghetti.”
“Master Politician. Now that you gave up Architect, ya dumas*, it’ll cost you every last credit and we know how much you hate making small talk with absolutely everyone in SWG.”
“Ok, that was a just a warmup, now let’s get going on the real Holocron stuff, DAWG. Do Master Dancer, Master Tailor and Master Bio-Droid-Medic, once we patch that last one in, that is. Then get back to us with your NEXT Holocron.”
“Love and kisses, The Machine”
Dear Holocron – Don’t call me, I’ll call you. Let’s do lunch sometime. Regards, Grumpy.
The Grumpy Master Architect ©