Dear illustrious readers,

I came across a letter in my daily rubbish musings in regards to the origins of certain romantic traditions within Lochlann. Did you know that in some ancient texts pumpkins and dragon fruit were linked to a lady in waiting’s dowry?

I believe it nonsense, one can only reason why things went to pot. Idiot humans!

Pumpkins go for, what, a quid a piece?

Another tradition, apparently, is human’s training in arms both royalty and commoner. I believe it worthwhile to sacrifice the common man, while myself would be safely ensconced in a highly protected tower, snacking. Stupid humans! Waste not.

Have you ever wondered why humans believe themselves the superior when so many die by dysentery? A superior race killed by cramps? Ha!

Alas, I have come to the final dregs of my whiskey bottle. Of, course, I didn’t polish the entire thing off in one go. I would never do such an uncouth thing.

But it is late, and I am thirsty.

Sincerely yours,

Count Cedric Raccoonsworth Trashington III, Authorial Aristocrat of the Whispering Woods