I really loath house guests.
Specifically one house guest.
Specifically that one house guest who's punched me in the face so many times.
It was the morning after I got lost in the jungle, but it didn't look like morning. The rain was still pouring, though the wind had died down a little. The clouds made the whole thing so dark that it almost looked like night.
Of course, naturally, I had a cold. A cold. I am an overlord. I shouldn't get colds.
But I had one, and Salt said that there was actually no bloody cold medicine on the whole bloody island. Thanks to the storm, no contact was being made with the mainland or anything - of course, I don't make contact anyway, normally, because they actually don't know of my tyranny here.
So I sat and suffered in silence broken by the occasional groan or exaggerated fit of coughing.
Everyone was gathered in the only comfortable room in the fortress, which had a fireplace, a few bookcases, and some assorted chairs and such. Mathew was humming some annoying ditty while throwing bits of wood on the fire (the power was out, naturally). Salt lounged against the wall reading, while Pepper and Hero chattered over hot chocolate.
That was another thing that annoyed me; Pepper and Hero got along wonderfully. They bickered about some things, chatted over others, and the whole thing was irritating. I mean, they wouldn't shut up.
And I was lying, shivering, wrapped in blankets in the giant black armchair. I couldn't even kick Hero out of the fortress, and none of the others would. I mean, what kind of minions were they? They wouldn't even destroy the hero who we were fighting against. Totally ridiculous. If only I could reach my explosionator gun...