The death squad shot forward at close to forty G, and I imagined them yelling “Wheee!” in high-pitched minion voices. - Dennis E. Taylor

With that thought, I ran up behind the dragon — as a first-level grunt, I was barely worth paying attention to — jammed the staff of fireballs right where a rectal thermometer would go, and pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately, Bobs as a rule had too much common sense to get stuck with the duty, and I had too much of a sense of duty to listen to my common sense. I couldn’t walk away and leave an empty seat representing the Bobiverse; so here I was, once again listening to a snarling, self-centered, self-absorbed, self-righteous herd of bozos.

Point is, that’s when I really realized that I don’t think like most people. I’m fine with solitude. In fact, I get antsy when I’m around people for too long a period without respite.