Let's eat food, tonight! with Fenris Badwulf.

Mmmmm. How those special words like food make me want to feed other people. Barley husk breads, fresh from the energy efficient cow dung fired bakery! Cold crisp broccoli, right from the horse dung it grew in. Ah, the cluck of chickens as they roost over the straw bag you call your bed. It is the perfect life in the ecologically correct Middle Ages. And you are a happy hobbit with a belly full of barley husk bread and pork blubber pudding.

For those horrible midnight attacks of heart burn, keep a bucket of water beside your straw bag. You can stick your head into the water and glug bubbles if a chicken shits on your face.

There is no source of heat besides the dog. The cat ran away and lives with a witch, who hates you because you either did or did not get the cat neutered. Your dog has some secret source of food ... it is doing better in the Middle Ages than you. Is your dog sizing you up for a meal? Or a weekend banquet with it's dog pack buddies? Or going to use you as a food gift to some hot bitch in exchange for sexual favors? What is it eating? Is it a horrible secret?

For dinner, there is cold mush. You are still strong and can jostle your way to the front of the cold mush line. The scurvy is taking your teeth. Maybe life in a Japanese Prisoner of War camp would be better.

Your carbon footprint is smaller than your shadow, at last! Time for Victory Dinner:

Pickles, Pickled Herring, Pickled Eggs, Pickled Onions, and Green Beer.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.