Bonzo returns he has recovered from his identity crisis, his battle wounds from Icecrown Citadel have all been attended to by The Royal Apothecary Society, everything is ship shape, or is it?

The Bonzo Chronicles part 3 : Written by Bonzo himself

Warning: Rude words as always

Love is in the hair…

So I’m strolling through Dalaran, wondering why Saz doesn’t want to speak to me. He’s holding a little sign that says “AFK” and I wonder to myself whether he’s doing some kind of silent protest – a politically motivated sit-in or something.

I /poke him, but he still ignores me. Cheeky bastard.

That’s the last time I tell him his healing was fine and the boss critting me three times is what wiped us (when actually I have pretty decent defence and the slacker was probably off gathering a herb in the corner or something, because the incoming heals were ZEEEERO)

I think, “Hey, maybe I can go smelt some Titansteel bars – I’ve been hoarding titanium and little bits of earth and fire and shit in my bank for ages!”

The goblin bankers in Ratchet keep complaining about how bad it smells, the soft little wankers. Someone told me their ambassador was talking to Thrall the other day, and there’s speculation the gobbos are about to join the ranks of the horde.

Ah well, at least I’ll have something to wipe my arse with when the paper runs out again. So anyway, I head to the smiths and some dick tells me, “You were here just this morning buddy – get out and wait your turn.”

If I didn’t still have my crappy item level 200 axe I’d have words, but as it is I decide to drop it. I really need to get up earlier in the morning and try to get into Icecrown with some random group of noobs who don’t realise just how inexperienced I am.

I head back to the bank to drop off my mats (the Eternal Fire is burning a hole in my pocket and roasting my chestnuts something terrible).
Saz is still sitting on the steps of the bank with his silly little placard, so I /kick him on the way past. I’d stick a pumpkin on his head, but I’m all out. Now there’s something that smells pretty rancid after it’s been on your noggin for a few days…

All of a sudden this orc chick stops in front of me. She has two massive axes that easily kick my droopy old rusted piece of shit into a new league of embarrassment. I’m trying really hard to hide my axe and get past her when suddenly she speaks to me.

Molpadia: “Hey Bonz! Long time no see. You well hun?”

Bonzo: “…”

Molpadia: “Oh I’m so sorry! It’s me Bonz, Molpadia! I’ve had a bit of work done on the old body.”

Bonzo: “Shittabrick Mol, you used to be a COW! A bit of work turned you into an orc? WTF?!”

Molpadia: “It’s magic. I paid a bit of gold and here I am, a new person. Well, sort of. Inside I’m just the same.”

She gives me a ^^ but I’m disappointed nonetheless.

Bonzo: “But Mol, you’re an orc! What’s wrong with being a Tauren?”

Molpadia: “Oh Bonz, not a thing! It’s just that orcs are really pretty good at using axes, you know. And I need all the help I can get for Icecrown, especially the harder areas.”

I used to have a hard area whenever I saw Mol, but now I feel betrayed. She’s all green and has fangs and shit. What happened to that lovely soft tawny fur I used to dream about? We were just starting to get to know each other, and now she’s gone and had this done.

What next? Piercings? A tattoo? She doesn’t even have a tail anymore!

She had such a sweet tail…

Bonzo: “I’m sorry Mol, I gotta go. Erm… nice seeing you again.

Molpadia: “Sure Bonz. You take care, hope to see you around. Come over to my place for a meal sometime.”

Yeah, right.
Orcs eat little children and pandaren.
No thank you kindly.

Bonzo: “Sure Mol, I’ll do that.”

I’m a terrible liar, and the look on her (New! Green!) face seems to show that she knows it. Well FFS, she’s the one who went and ruined it all. Orc indeed!

Inside the bank I see Mal. He’s just standing there in the middle of the bank, probably speaking to someone. I find it really freaky that you can whisper to someone in another city – hell, another planet! – but who am I to question these things?

I tried speaking to some alliance gnome once who thought (mistakenly, obviously) that the mine in front of us was his. The little fucker was behind me and I was about to win the race to the lovely minerals when he blinked and started mining right in front of me.

This was when I was much younger, and I didn’t yet know too much about the world. I thought a word in his ear about how badly he’d upset me would be in order, and so I began to recall a grand yet somewhat exaggerated (to the point of being entirely fabricated) account of my enterprising evening with his mother and a box of lightning eels. To my eternal frustration, he replied to me in a completely foreign language, and I learned at that moment that I would never gain satisfaction from cursing the enemy to their face.

He then jumped onto his mechanical bird (I mean, you can craft anything you want to but you make a giant fucking chicken? Gnomes are SUCH a bunch of cock-smokers) and rode off, yelling “BUR” at me, whatever the bejaysus that means.

Malignant: “Yo Bonz! You eaten a bad chilli?”

Bonzo: “Eh? Hey Mal. What you talking about?”

Malignant: “That look on your face mate: either you have a monkey nibbling it’s way out of your arse or you’re seriously pissed off at someone. Anything I can help with?”

Bonzo: “Ah! Naa, just reminiscing.”

Malignant: “A good memory, obviously.”

Bonzo: “Hey, have you seen what Mol did to herself?”

Malignant: “Yeah mate, I think it’s wicked.”

Bonzo: “Wicked? Well, I would have said a bit shitty, really. Not too sure it’s an evil act, really.”

Malignant: “Wicked means cool. It’s what all the kids are saying these days.”

Bonzo: “Oh. Ok. So what do they say for bad then? Fookin brullyunt?”

Malignant: “Bad means good too. But good doesn’t actually mean bad. Good still means good. It’s a really weird linguistical minefield.”

Bonzo: “Um. Yeah.”

Malignant: “Sort of like leetspeak.”

Bonzo: “Fuck that! I told you not to go there. It’s a guild rule, I thought.”

Malignant: “One that you made up, and only because you don’t like it.”

Bonzo: “Because it’s stupid! Why not just speak normally?”

Malignant: “U r teh grumpeh, lulz.”

Bonzo: “Fuck off.”

Sazon: “Hey guys.”

Malignant: “Hey Saz. Wazzup?”

Sazon: “Bonz getting his rage on again?”

Malignant: “Aye. The l33t5pk thing.”

Sazon: “ROFL!”

Bonzo: “I’m leaving. You guys are so immature.”

Malignant: “Sorry Bonz. Hey, you up for some raiding later?”

Bonzo: “Yeah, why not.”

Sazon: “You can be teh tanxx0r.”

Bonzo: “I can hurt you, you know.”

Malignant: “Not until you L2P nub.”

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