People stop me and ask for your meat. “I’d like a few wild hog shanks, please.” (I deal mostly in pants.) I offer them some sensible trousers, but they just apologize and say, “I thought you were the meat guy. I need some meat!” It happens more and more. Do you have any Pebblebottom in you? I have an Aunt Rockstubble who’s always cooking large haunches of meat. You might know her.
I’d like to sell meat with you! I could walk around the Military Ward, mirroring your every move. When you walk in circles, so will I. If you give a little jump, I will do the same. I will also perform some half cartwheels, semi handstands, and give ‘em the old soggy elbow. You look familiar. Do you know my second cousin Ridgewhisker?
I will require a hunk of meat to hold. For looks only, I will not sell it. (I may nibble at it on breaks.) I could really use some gold, so let’s help each other out. I lost most of my fortune in the recent Auction House crash. I invested in apples, but now I know meat is the way to go. Beef, pork, mutton, wendigo...it’s all good! My father’s mother was named, Ledgegoatee. Any relation?
I hear you have the best meat in Ironforge. “I want a good chop!” they all say. I look forward to working with you and await my novelty hunk of meat. Let’s make back my fortune!
Sincerely,
R. Pebblebottom
P.S. Any chance you know my great uncle, Precipice Vandyke? He sold sliced deli meats. Do you have pastrami?
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