About me:

About me:
My name is Venimalia and I’m an Imp. What’s that, you ask? Imps are quite small, but we can pass as human if we want to. I wear high heels and everyone thinks I’m just some small woman. Except that I have yellow eyes like a cat. If I want to pass as a human, I have to wear contact lenses. I have to say, modern human technology is quite practical, but here in my realm, Imprana, we use magic. Imprana lies in a dimension parallel to the human earth and can only be entered and left by Imps.
I work as a keeper of knowledge, which means that I’m in charge of memory stones. See, we don’t have scientific books, we have magical stones that one can unlock to gain knowledge or abilities. One needs great magical powers to unlock some of these stones. Thankfully I am that. Unfortunately I’m also no more than semi-sane. At least people tell me that every time they try to find something in my collection. Personally, I think of myself as slightly eccentric, slightly plump and quite capable at my job.
So here in this blog I’m trying to give my fellow imps and all interested humans insight into my thought processes. I welcome any comments, but please don’t expect a logical-for-you answer.

July 1, 2010

the toilet incident

Alright, I admit, it’s not nice to take my frustration out on an innocent student. But then, who ever said I was nice?
For the fifth time today, a young Imp came to my desk and interrupted my work (reading the newest bestseller I had acquired for the library – purely to be able to index it correctly, of course) only to ask me where the toilets are. Honestly, couldn’t they just use their magic to find the way or something?
So I explained to him how to get there – after all being helpful is my job – in such a roundabout manner that it would take him ages to actually get there. And because it’s no fun to send someone on a scenic tour through the library without watching, I followed his journey with my magic mirror.
In the beginning he looked still fine, but by the time he rounded the fourth corner and there was still no toilet in sight, he started to walk a bit funny. Two corners later he started to hobbly-run. He then took a wrong turn, not that he would know, considering that he was probably totally lost already, and I decided to step in before he peed on my beautiful carpet.
With a broad smile on my face – cause my mood had picked up significantly in the meantime – I went to him and helpfully showed him directly to the toilet.
See, I can be nice ... sort of.
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