How To Survive In A Dump: The Diary of Mr. Thaddeus

Fools!!! Fools!!! Surrounded By Fools!!!

I am again writing in my memoir and am preparing to leave the mansion. The horses that I have picked through careful observation and incredible consideration are the epitome of perfection. They are a feathered fur, a brownish gold color, and are superbly built. These horses I speak of compete in horse races, which I really do fancy, and every now and then, I journey to the racetrack where my horses participate in all sorts of things. They, to my knowledge, have never lost a race, and I believe they never shall.

It is time to mosey along with a most bedazzling appearance as they prepare the steps for us to tread lightly towards my beautiful chariot. I do not suppose I have told you about the buggy tied to my horses that, if you remember, have their start within the factories owned by my parents. The chariot is made from the finest of woods and carved from the most precise of hands as each pieces of wood are inspected with the utmost of care. The wood is treated with a chemical that we shall not speak of, formed, and then shaped into one of many beautiful assemblages.

 After all this, it is sent further into the factory where metal workers conclude on the finishing touches to be painted and given our beloved signature. The signature, if you must know, is a family crest, a bird of some sort carrying a bucket of gold coins, signifying our speed of business and the adventure of going into such a fast-paced market. They are other factories that create these splendid works of art, but none are like the ones we have here. The greatest of all buggies. King of all created chariots.

The servants within my household, as they do often, are busy making sure the house stays clean and proper until my parents come home. I am not sure when they will be arriving, but I shall send them a letter in the hopes of the next few weeks that they will send me an answer. You see, I have always wanted a buggy with my name on it. I do not have one as of yet but have been told in my most recent request that they would send word to create one in my honor.

I know they will obey as I will tell them of my deepest regrets and hope that it was just a misunderstanding. Where they did not create such
for me, immediately on receiving my letter the time before. How are they supposed to please their only child when they are not giving him exactly what he wants when he asks for it?

The chariot! My chariot is readied, of course, before I take my place in it. I am sitting within the dining room where I consume my strawberry jam on sour dough bread and milk from one of our farms further west. Oh, yes! I seem to have forgotten. We partially own farms as well, which is quite splendid. This was how our family started off, you see. 

We were once proud farmers until my father invented these beautiful pieces, which we have named buggies or chariots. My father never actually worked on a farm as he was usually always inventing and traveling, I do believe, but his father did. His father, before him, also farmed for a time until a more lucrative idea was formed. They did not have much at first, but from what I have heard, they were still happy. As happy as they could be, I guess, with little money. I do not understand how they could enjoy life with so little.

IS IT NOT THAT MEN LIKE I ARE CREATED TO PROSPER IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD? DOES NOT YOUR VERY BOOK AGREE WITH SUCH TEACHINGS?

In spite of this very fact, working every day and using your own hands must have been gruesome and tiresome work reserved for the likes of servants. People such as I should never have to work in such cruel conditions. If you were to see my hands, you would notice how smooth and soft they are. Not a callous on them nor will they ever be. My father's hands, however, are like steel. 

He had created his buggy business at a young age and left lesser work for his brothers and sisters on their farm. I have not seen much of my cousins as they are jealous of such a wonder as I, but I would hate yours truly if I were in a predicament such as theirs. I may leave my fabulous home and journey over one day before my writing is through so you can acquire an idea of what they live like. Upon days, I think it best to voyage to their humble home (Insert laugh here). I take two buggies. One to go and one for the way back so they can perceive the amount of wealth we have obtained. 

They keep the other of the two and can do whatever they wish with it for all I care. I have many more at my disposal that I can use at any time, and I do not visit them often enough that I use up too many of my buggies. Anyways, enough about my cousins as they are not very entertaining as many of you are probably bored with the little I have told you already about them. I know I am.

I have now eaten a most appetizing tiff-in and am ready to put on some new clothes so that I may enter into the courts of my chariot. My attire, you are probably wondering, and if you are not, I will tell you anyways are made from the most fabulous of materials and are very light. The weather here is quite warm this time of year so wearing such fabric is such a benefit in these times. I do not like to sweat, as clothes can become smelly and damp and when you are important sweating never will do. 

The servants often wear much warmer clothes than I. I could tell them to wear something lighter but it would not be appealing to my eyes and so they must wear the clothes I expect them to wear when they are within my presence. I am sure that when I leave, they may wear clothing that would be more suitable in this weather, and I do not see anything wrong with this as long as they know to change before I step through the door.

HOW ELSE WILL THEY LEARN OBEDIENCE TO ME? THEIR MASTER?

Oh, how I love being I. It is of my expectation that this will be another glorious day. It is no wonder that even 5 am garnished in a most elegant suit to the best of my ability, which is a grand ability and to the best of my knowledge in all its superiority. I do believe the rest of the day will be sunny from what I have factored in from years of experience. I may even have reason to smile for the moment, at least. I really do hope so as it would not surprise me for a servant or some worker to ruin my day in all its wonder with some foolishness that should have been dealt with by the accountant.

Sitting in my chariot, waiting for the chauffeur, I often ponder about what my life will be like upon future becoming present. It is good sometimes to think about such things as it is important. Picture this. As I strut towards my chariot, men and women stand on both sides, bowed, with a smile. Even with their bodies both vertical and horizontal, they applaud my departure and my coming in. Even if their smiles are false, I do not care.

 They must do so without complaints. I will tell you of one time, whereas I went. I made the decision to peer behind me and witnessed one young gentleman not bowing after I had gone. It was not very pleasing, and I felt anger rising within the depths of my belly. It is a great courtesy to stay in the said position until after I have arrived within my chariot. Of course, he had to be punished and was made to do any chore that required him to be on his knees. His pants were badly torn, and his knees were sore for a long period of time. I would often hear him groan, which made it obvious that he clearly did not enjoy what he went through. However, it was best for him to understand the emotions and pain I felt upon his own exterior. I wish I knew what had happened to that young man. Nevertheless, he shall not receive any remorse from me. Some men can not deal with the difficulties of a harsher life. 

Hmmm... it appears that it may rain today. Whomever has made such a miscalculation to believe such a day would have been a fool. A joke to the highest order. I shall remedy my weather man as he is often incompetent in his ways. The accountant shall hear of this soon.

MARK MY WORDS.