I tap my finger against the body of the large, glassy crystal that lies atop the work-bench. A sharp ring echoes out all around myself, as the sound reverberates around the empty room of the tomb. Gazing down, I look at the heap of bones that lies slumped over a table, the collection held only roughly together by the cloth robe that it wears. This must be where the skeleton-casters originate from in our dungeon. Neat.

I tap the skull, hoping that it too will make a sound. It doesn’t, apart from a hollow knocking. Hmm.

Skeleton-casters are fun. Wasn’t I one once? I don’t really remember. Turning to the right, I walk down the stone corridor of the tomb. There are holes in the walls to both the left and right of me in which bodies lay buried, where the dead sleep their eternal sleep. Well. Sort of. You see, the skeleton crafting process is pretty interesting, tell you what. The bone-lord makes skeletons out of bones. The bones? Well, they deliver themselves to the dungeon, if you catch my drift. Anyways, all skeletons are basically just screeching melee combatants, which is fine. But there’s always room for improvement, you know?

That’s where the crystals come in. Remember them? We saw a mine earlier somewhere down below.

Crystals have magic properties, you know? What’s that? Why are they magic you ask? What? Because they’re crystals, guy, duh? Don’t you know anything about dungeons? Sheesh. I shake my head. It’s like this is your first day, come on, get it together. Crystals are obviously magic. Have you ever seen a crystal? Just look at it. It’s all shiny and glassy and cool. Obviously magic. Anyways, crystals being magic and all, they absorb the dungeon-magic that fills the entire world down here. With a little creative ingenuity, the dungeon-master is able to imbue the bone-lord’s skeletons with pieces of the crystals. Bam. Magic skeletons, fresh out of the oven and ready to eat.

Anyways, have I ever told you that I don’t like being a caster? It’s too much trouble. Magic is fun and all, don’t get me wrong. But if you wear a dress, you’re the first one that the hero-party is going to go after, no matter how flattering it makes your ankles look.

Gazing down, I stare at my ankles and I sigh as I see them, feeling hurt inside. When did I let myself go like this? Look at those ankles, they’re the worst. What kind of ankles are these? Who could ever find a monster like me attractive, with such ugly ankles? Truly, to live is to suffer. Dungeon-master, I’m sorry that I have ugly ankles, please don’t love me less! I promise that I’m a good person!

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I think?

Uh. What was I talking about?

I look around the crypt. Double-dead skeletons lie all around myself. Some laying in holes, still sleeping their eternal sleep, some stuffed back into the holes rather forcefully. Others simply have the holes in them. It’s a very efficient system. Everything is a hole.

Wait.

Narrowing my eyes, I wait for the slime to giggle at my joke. But she doesn’t. I look down at the egg that the slime is still obsessing about. I’m not really sure what her problem is. It’s just an egg. We should eat i-

Her eyes shoot up towards me, sending a venomous glare my way.

Fine! Fine, I raise my lance hand in a gesture of relenting. We won’t eat the egg. It was just a joke, sheesh. Do you really have to live out your maternal instincts right now though? Can’t it wait until we get out of the dungeon?

“Stop being a jerk!” she says, which I think is a little unfair. I’m literally carrying both of you, so how about some respect, huh? How about some recognition for all of my hard-work? All you do is sit around and hold the egg, so maybe don’t complain so much and show some gratitude!

She turns her head away, lifting her nose into the air with a ‘hmpf’ as she decides not to speak to me anymore. My fingers grip the lance tighter in annoyance. But you know what? It’s fine! It’s not like I care. Because she knows that I’m right and because she’s dumb and stupid and spoiled. What a brat. Some people just never got the belt often enough when they were kids.

The slime ignores me entirely.

Rolling my eyes, I turn back forward and keep on walking. Somebody has to earn the money here and clearly I’m the only one who isn’t entirely worthless.

Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh right, skeletons. Bending to the side, I pick up an empty skull and look at it.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask the skull.

It doesn’t respond as I continue to stare at it, feeling awkward now. Are you ignoring me too? Ugh. I can’t deal with you people today. Why is everyone such a jerk?

Throwing the skull back over my shoulder, I keep on walking forward as I listen to it rattling behind myself, as it strikes against the stones and rolls away. Hmm…

I tap my lance against my own skull, scratching it as I walk. Can skeletons even talk? Or do they just screech? Wait. I’m a skeleton. Can I talk? I think I can talk. Can you hear me, guy? I’m not just screeching, right? Right?

Yeah? Oh, great.

Phew. I was worried for a second there. Nobody would take me seriously if I had a weird, screechy voice. Is that judgmental of them? Yes. Is it like that anyways? Yes. That’s just what life is like in the dungeon, friend. Though, maybe it’s like that outside of the dungeon too. It’s not for me to say.

The sound of my steps echoes out around the tomb as I walk through the catacombs and I listen to them as they travel out ahead of me and they bounce off of the tightly stacked brickwork and the many crystals that line the grave-site. They seem to go further and further away, as if I were running away from myself. It’s an odd thought, but I narrow my eyes at the darkness ahead of me, looking down the way that imaginary-me runs.

I must be a real jerk. Not even I want to be my friend.