Letters to Camp Packabuncha: Trouble

Dear Human:
I was wondering why you didn't respond to my last note, and subsequently sent out that Search and Rescue squad of Haanta and her "dragon," George the Tortoise, to come and find me, then I found the note had been folded up and used as a wedge under a teetering bar table like a matchbook. Gods, woman, you panic far too easily! All hell broke loose when Haanta got here -- the Dwarf Bros., (who were my gentlemen hosts for the evening), Kegger and Schmegger, smelled that damn Shiner Bock IN THE BOTTLES and before we could hit the "move here" spell she misdirected aggro to George, fired off five flares, and power-shot Kegger right in the shoulder, fortunately missing his collar bone, (or worse, his beard), and pinned him and his chain mail to the back wall. Yelling a war-cry to defend his brother, "Git yuuur dotty hands off me brother!" Schmegger tore off his shirt, exposing his tats, including an unfortunate one about "Death to Goblin Scum!" which set off a particular Goblin waitress named Rosie Goldsnatch, who then broke a beer bottle over his head and threatened to 'remove the tattoo the hard way.' Schmeggle appeared both smitten and bloodlusting over her attack (for what male Dwarf doesn't love a woman who can handle a shank?) let his defenses down and she cut him, meanwhile Keggle is hollaring to bring him one of those Bocks and get him down off the bloody wall, or bring him two Bocks and leave him hanging, or something, Rosie drops the bottle and ties up the wound with a dirty bar rag, and Schmeggle, all moony-eyed declares his ever-lasting devotion to Rosie, and they went off to Goldshire. Haanta found her way over to a private booth to dance with a hot Elf chick or two (you know hunters and druids: when nature calls, it must be answered, no matter who dials the phone), and now I'm sitting here babysitting a confused tortoise and not sure where my next round is coming from.

Human, I appreciate all you do for me, truly.  Let's be honest: we both needed a break from one another, and sometimes you can be a bit micro-managing.You only have one more full day in Texas, and from what I have heard from the others you've had a great time. You got to see a show, Wicked, with amazing steam-punk costuming and sets, and I know you read the book years ago and loved it; you've been to Guero's Mexican restaurant and bought goodies at Tesoro's, your favorite store in Austin. I know CD Rogue got a little mad at you last night when you told him you had a doctor appointment for your tummy issues next week, and he seemed to think you needed to go to urgent care immediately. Urgent care in the sticks of Texas is not the same as it is at home, and I know you'll be fine. Work and life builds up, the stresses get to be too much, and you want to escape to Azeroth to take your mind off it all. But remember, Human, you had a week without us, and we were just fine, and so were you. Let me drop some healing rain down on your head, sweet lady, and quit worrying so much. It only upsets you, and confuses tortoises. We don't want confused reptiles, now do we? No. No we don't.

Now I'm going to cut Kegger down off the wall, and leave a good tip for Rosie. Haanta's on her own.

See you soon, chica - bring more Bock if you can. (Although, it's probably not gluten-free...)

Matty