Scribbles from Jurganta

Roleplay Library Unsorted RP
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1

It was a strange feeling. The President, sitting behind his desk had a small frown on his face as he surveyed the documents in front of him.
Click Click Click
Up and down the President clicked his pen, and it was the only sound heard in the large, ornate room. Had it been anyone else, I would have been annoyed by the incessant clicking, and would probably request the offender shut it, or more realistically lacking the courage, would at least give him a disapproving look.

But this was the President. And besides, it was my duty to keep still. I went out of myself for a few seconds, imagining someone entering the room and looking straight at the troubled president, completely oblivious to my presence. I was pressed against the wall, and between the marble busts that jutted out from the room’s perimeter, I fit right in. Just another head.

That’s how the President must have felt anyway, for he let out a nice loud “fuck” and spun out of his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt.

I tried not to enjoy the scent, but the president’s Sav-Leaf was fantastic. It must have come from the south. Suddenly I betrayed myself, and let out a sigh of satisfaction.

The President wheeled around, recognized me, and his face relaxed.
“How long have you been there Himmler?”
I tried to think, but my tolerance was shamefully low. The Sav-Leaf fuzzed out my mind, and I just gaped at the President. Then my mind went backwards and I thought of the past thirty minutes.

“What is troubling you Mr. President?” I asked.
Even the president was having trouble now, “Call me Chamillionaire!” he yelled out as he slouched towards his desk. The President surprised himself with his own outburst, and he slowly stood up and nobly tried to answer the question.

“Well…” he thought for a minute, then put the blunt down. Then he held it up again. “This leaf will bring great prosperity to this nation. It must, for it is all we have. I has been doing an admirable job, but he is too slow. Everyday our shipments wait is another day this nation falls behind. We are surrounded by advanced neighbors, while we remain agrarian and woefully isolated…and…” The fumes swirled up the President’s sinuses, and he was back in a haze.

His eyes bugged out, then returned, but he was gone. Slowly he lowered himself to his desk, and fell into a blissful sleep. As I sat there, slipping into my own Sav-Leaf induced sleep, I wondered about the future of our nation, and our president who was very not Hakuna Matata. I worried how the East Pacific would receive our national leaf and past time, yet as I slipped into a blissful sleep, I realized they could not refuse it. :slight_smile:

T. D. Himmler
Embedded in the Presidential Building.
Leinad Private

2

The Presidential bathroom was magnificent. The first thing that struck me was the size, then the marble. The marble was a curiosity.
There was no marble in Jurganta…
I would have asked the President about it but there were two problems.

  1. I wasn’t supposed to be in the President’s bathroom, and I feared reprimand.
  2. I wasn’t in the bathroom to look for new questions that needed answering.

I already had enough for the President. How had the trade initiatives gone? Had apathy toward the national government been reduced? Had the panic in southern villages been resolved?

Suddenly, my head began to ache, and in desperation I revealed my true purpose.
I was trying not to smoke on the job, but I needed a fix. I whipped out my blunt and took a few nice hits. It wasn’t the presidential quality I had sampled earlier, but it was potent.

I collapsed on the marble floor, and this alien surface frightened me. It was rigid, cold, and seemed to be trying to push me off of it.

I was far too under the influence to stand up, but I didn’t want to touch the marble floor. I lifted my legs up in the air, and shot my arms forward, reaching for my outstretched legs. Now, only my torso was subjected to the sensation of the marble floor.

As my abdominals began to burn in this embarrassing position, the President himself strolled in. Sweating, I stared back at him in fright, although my view was compromised as my legs were in the way.

“Himmler! Get off my floor!”

My body, constricted and struggling in its current position, snapped backward as I leapt to my feet. The President was taken aback.

“Himmler, you’re a damn security threat. Now get out of here.”

The Sav-Leaf was wearing off. “Mr. President”, I began as I adopted my usual interviewer tone, completely oblivious that this was the wrong place at the wrong time. “Where…where…where did you get this marble from?”

The President looked disgusted. “What do you know about marble?”

I was stunned. How did I come to recognize the oppressive material? Marble was foreign to Jurganta, a nation I have never left.

And so, as I stumbled out into the hall, my new mission began. How did I come to learn about marble? And how did I come to forget? Certainly Sav-Leaf was to blame for the latter, but the former was intriguing. I knew things I did not know I knew.

Suddenly the headache returned, but it was accompanied by a more stinging sensation. Within the back of neck, an excruciating pain originated.

My assimilation was almost complete. https://groups.tapatalk-cdn.com/smilies/52127/1536592187.0794-smiley.gif?ttinline=true