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« on: April 12, 2011, 04:11:42 pm »
Dear Urist McLeatherworker,
So you made a friend. That's good! I'm very happy about that. And you went and threw a party for just you and your friend at the tiger cage. Well, alright, two's company, right?
What kind of confounds me is that you, immediatley after announcing this party to your buddy the grower, decided to go on break. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of organizing it?
Sincerely,
your overseer.
Dear Urist McManager,
Okay, seriously, you have no fucking right to breaks. You know what you do all day? You fucking pass production orders and do shit-all else all day long. Okay, you're also one of our many furnace operators, I'll admit. Other than that, though, your only duty is to make potash, which we never do because, frankly, the farm plots aren't even in use anymore right now because we were fucking suffocating under huge piles of mushrooms and other assorted plants, and we won't be making any clear glass either. Frankly, you should be happy I picked you out for the position of manager. You get your own snazzy office, and all you have to do is ask our bookkeeper if he foresaw that we'd have enough materials for the order at this particular point in time (how that guy knows we'd be running into veins of bituminous coal I don't know, but I won't question the ethereal science of bookkeeping) before jutting a little "yup" mark next to that order on the list. In fact, I'm even taking you off the wood burning squad, just in case. So you get to sit around on your trallally all day long, waiting for somebody to pass on one of my production orders. This is all the work you'll be doing. If you take a break one more time just when I put up a shitload of coke-making orders for our metalsmithing industry, I'm giving you some !!motivation!!.
Kindly get off your big, fat ass.
Curtly and sternly,
your overseer.
P.S: No, seriously. If you don't do it, I'm promoting your son to a millitia captain and sending his "squad" (consisting of him, in the nude, with a sharp stick) at the next goblin ambush. You've been warned, fatass.
P.P.S: Love what you did with your hair, by the way.
Dear Urist McBookkeeper,
First, let me express my thanks to you for keeping our stock records up and running. Very good job you did there. Very precise, like I told you to. What I want to ask you, though, is it really necessary for you to write down the meat returns of every goblin we butcher separately? It clutters up the kitchen stocks a bit. Yes, I know they were all individuals with their own hopes, dreams, and family before they ran into our meatgrinder, but really, after Urist McButcher and his butchering friends have been at them, you can't even recognize them any more, and you just call it "goblin meat". Despite this, you still somehow saw fit to write down the contents of every pile separately. Kindly cut that shit out.
With thanks in advance,
your overseer.
To Urist McMayor,
No, we're not making any cunting quivers. We don't even have any hunters, because there's unicorns on the map. Quit your tremulous whining and get back to doing whatever the hell it is you do all day.
Signed by,
your overseer.
P.S: Is it really any surprise that you don't have any friends? Like, at all? Even the tanners have a few buddies, and they smell like brains and leather.
P.P.S: Two more months, and then your ass is out. Out and into the river, that is. Thanks to you and one of our former mayors, three of our dwarves will be sentenced to nearly two and a half months of jail time once the captain of the guard arrrives.
P.P.P.S: How's that agreement to get some carp brought here coming along? I did mention wanting to reintroduce them into the river.
Dear everyone,
You can drink some more, you know. We have plenty of booze, and the faster we drink it, the faster we can get rid of our plant surplus, and the faster our planters will have work again. They're threatening to unionize. This round's on me! If you drink less than eight units of booze this year, you're a pussy.
Sincerely,
the overseer.
Dear Urists McWoodcutter (s),
Would it KILL you to keep the tunnel to the farms free of trees while they're inactive? We'd like to get production underway as fast as possible again once we're out of booze and plants.
Sincerely,
you know who.
Dear miners,
Just fucking MINE out the vein of coal that is OBVIOUSLY behind those two squares of coal. Come the HELL on.
Going to drown his sorrows inb ooze,
the overseer.
Der Durr Dead Dour Dear Urizt McBrewler,
this 's some good fuck'n booze! *hic*
*vomit stains*,
look ma i got a peeeeeeeeen
Dear Urist McChief Medical Dwarf,
Thanks for treating the head wound I got while falling down the stairs dead-drunk.
Sincerely,
your overseer.
