zephyr
As much as you don't particularly want to dig, your arm already screaming in pain at the prospect, you nonetheless grab a shovel and set about making trenches the same as anyone else. The request for songs is met with a raised eyebrow, but before you have a chance to oblige (and thus perhaps avoid working) the illustrious First Gentleman pipes in with a ditty you make a point to get the lyrics to later, because damn.
You follow up with one of your own, a Torchline classic about mermaids and their naughty bits (appropriate, you think, given that you're digging these stupid things for them [and also where are they, huh? They better be ready to make some deals when the time comes]). And though you perhaps take more breaks than the others due to your bum right arm, you do your best to pull your weight for the remainder of the day.
You follow up with one of your own, a Torchline classic about mermaids and their naughty bits (appropriate, you think, given that you're digging these stupid things for them [and also where are they, huh? They better be ready to make some deals when the time comes]). And though you perhaps take more breaks than the others due to your bum right arm, you do your best to pull your weight for the remainder of the day.
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still
I know it looks like I'm movin' but I'm standin' still
