Post by Fraser Nangle on Jun 23, 2014 15:53:46 GMT
Fraser Nangle Grumpy – Journal Entry
It’s not easy to be happy when every blundering idiot that walks past you recognizes you as the grumpy dwarf that used to be friends with Ms. White. It’s been hundreds of years since I last spoke to her and I’m still recognized solely because I was, and still am, the one with a crushing depression.
In case you have been living under an all-encompassing rock (excluding the moon) and haven’t heard of dwarves, we were basically a bunch of friends that used to mine things, until one day we realised (from a terrible accident) that we were unable to die of ageing. After this discovery, the 7 of us just seemed to fade away from one another, each using our curse to pursue different agendas.
Most of the others changed their names and identities to avoid the fame and attention which we received after the Brothers Grimm wrote their documentary about us. I didn’t think I would need to change my identity because I don’t speak to anyone and no-one knew what I looked like, but then photography and the internet and a very glorifying and inaccurate film came around and destroyed my hopes for anonymity. Some other weird stuff happened too, like some idiot making a film with eight dwarves in it, completely fabricating seven relationships and misinforming the public.
The name ‘Grumpy’ is a sad, easy to swallow version of the truth. In reality, I have been force-fed centuries of manic depression, twisting in and out of bouts of uncontrollable, disabling despair. I regularly attend an Alcoholics Anonymous group, which is now just ‘Alcoholics’ because of my ridiculous fame. This group could never hope to understand what I have been through and why my addiction has persisted for the last sixty or so years.
It’s not ended up so bad for all of us though, Ms. White for example, after she faked her death, became a world famous model, happy moved to some paradise somewhere to continue being his blindly optimistic self, and Doc set up a coal mining firm which continues to exploit to the Earth’s fragile riches to this day. I’m not sure what became of bashful, but I know that sneezy got reliant on his cough medicine, and that dopey somehow managed to become a drug addicted squatter. As for sleepy, well he became a subject for experimentation by a pharmaceuticals company, which led him to murder some poor journalist while he was sleepwalking. He is now leading the world’s longest life sentence.
Our immortality is, in the eyes of the unaffected, a terrific wonder, but in truth it is merely a removal of the one thing that makes us really alive, the right to die.
It’s not easy to be happy when every blundering idiot that walks past you recognizes you as the grumpy dwarf that used to be friends with Ms. White. It’s been hundreds of years since I last spoke to her and I’m still recognized solely because I was, and still am, the one with a crushing depression.
In case you have been living under an all-encompassing rock (excluding the moon) and haven’t heard of dwarves, we were basically a bunch of friends that used to mine things, until one day we realised (from a terrible accident) that we were unable to die of ageing. After this discovery, the 7 of us just seemed to fade away from one another, each using our curse to pursue different agendas.
Most of the others changed their names and identities to avoid the fame and attention which we received after the Brothers Grimm wrote their documentary about us. I didn’t think I would need to change my identity because I don’t speak to anyone and no-one knew what I looked like, but then photography and the internet and a very glorifying and inaccurate film came around and destroyed my hopes for anonymity. Some other weird stuff happened too, like some idiot making a film with eight dwarves in it, completely fabricating seven relationships and misinforming the public.
The name ‘Grumpy’ is a sad, easy to swallow version of the truth. In reality, I have been force-fed centuries of manic depression, twisting in and out of bouts of uncontrollable, disabling despair. I regularly attend an Alcoholics Anonymous group, which is now just ‘Alcoholics’ because of my ridiculous fame. This group could never hope to understand what I have been through and why my addiction has persisted for the last sixty or so years.
It’s not ended up so bad for all of us though, Ms. White for example, after she faked her death, became a world famous model, happy moved to some paradise somewhere to continue being his blindly optimistic self, and Doc set up a coal mining firm which continues to exploit to the Earth’s fragile riches to this day. I’m not sure what became of bashful, but I know that sneezy got reliant on his cough medicine, and that dopey somehow managed to become a drug addicted squatter. As for sleepy, well he became a subject for experimentation by a pharmaceuticals company, which led him to murder some poor journalist while he was sleepwalking. He is now leading the world’s longest life sentence.
Our immortality is, in the eyes of the unaffected, a terrific wonder, but in truth it is merely a removal of the one thing that makes us really alive, the right to die.
