I didn’t expect that to backfire so spectacularly. Turns out I’m the only one that came into work today, all ready for our next tabletop role-playing session of Grottos and Goblins. Who knew that my entire staff would be too weak-willed to come into work with the air conditioner broken? Even though the state of New South Wales depends on them doing their jobs, they’ve just given up.
And here I was thinking that damaging the air conditioner on purpose would give us an excuse to play G&G all day. My assistant was right when she said, “Oh, Premier Norris, this is a terrible idea.” Now she hasn’t even come into work, so I’ll have to find a quality air conditioning repairs in the Bayside area myself. I hope they don’t find the twenty-sided dice that I jammed into the filters. With my wizard robes on and my GM screen over the lunch table, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the usual excuse. Most people believe it when we say those dice are for making important government decisions.
I hope I can get a hold of a company that offers the closest air conditioning repairs. Cheltenham traffic is pretty bad right now, so it might take some time for them to get here. And honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get any work done like this. The Left-Handed Registration Act is sitting right on my desk, pending my approval. Even if it does have sub-sections that make it perfectly legal to spend taxpayer money on G&G supplies, it’s just too hot.
All I wanted was to finish our campaign. It’s been going for two years now, and finally, my staff have reached the big bad boss. The Goblin Lord has been trying to steal the Constitution of the Shield Coast the whole time, and now they’ve finally got him cornered. I don’t understand why they didn’t want to come here on a forty-five-degree day.