Bertrand and the Keepers of Order and Chaos
Bertrand arrived with a poof of disappointed starlight and a scroll longer than Snorb’s criminal record.
The Owl Auditor Supreme™ slammed the glowing parchment down onto Zef’s enchanted conference table (which immediately tried to absorb it, but Bertrand hissed and it backed off).
“The moon,” Bertrand announced, adjusting his monocle with a talon, “has once again committed ten counts of reflective vanity, five counts of unauthorized eclipse giggling, and, I swear by Andy's bejewelled codpiece, a full lunar quarter spent displaying its left side exclusively out of spite.”
Zef sipped his tea, eyebrows mildly intrigued.
“Did the moon express remorse?”
Bertrand squinted.
“It made finger guns at me using craters.”
Zef nodded solemnly. “So… no, then.”
---
Across the room, Snorb was trying to staple his shadow to the wall.
Bertrand ignored this. For now.
“In addition,” Bertrand continued, “Libra has unionized in an effort to bring balance to the universe, Orion’s Belt is now considered ‘optional fashion,’ and Sagittarius is in flagrant violation of proper arrow etiquette. I caught him aiming at the Big Docke- err sorry, I must have miswritten Dipper- to ‘see what would happen.’”
Snorb looked up.
“Did it spill?”
Bertrand’s feathers ruffled so aggressively that three nearby glyphs fled in terror.
“I am not paid enough for this. Not by a longshot.”
---
Zef leaned forward, folding his hands like the wise sage he occasionally pretended to be.
“And what of the Moon itself?”
Bertrand slapped down a stamped report labeled “CELESTIAL DIVA WITH LUNAR ATTITUDE – SEE PAGE 87 FOR ILLUSTRATIONS.”
Snorb reached for it and promptly turned into a lemon for five seconds.
“I warned you not to touch my paperwork,” Bertrand growled.
Suddenly there was a horrendous thunderclap outside and and flash of fire lit the windows, on a perfectly sunny afternoon.
Zed smirked knowingly "I wouldn't threaten Snorb if I was you... He is protected"
Snorb just preened and then gazed suspiciously at a spot on the wall.
---
As the owl resumed explaining the intricacies of Runic Misalignment Clause 42-B, Zef quietly summoned a glowing quill and began jotting something down.
Bertrand narrowed his eyes.
“What are you writing?”
Zef smiled peacefully.
“I’m… documenting your growing existential crisis. For educational purposes.”
Snorb poked his head into a drawer.
“Does this desk have snacks or is this where you keep the void?”
---
Eventually, after an hour of exhaustive reports, Bertrand stood tall (well, taller), gave a final disgusted sigh, and flapped his wings with bureaucratic menace.
“I’m off to audit the Sun,” he muttered. “Apparently it’s been smirking.”
Zef bowed, and said solemnly "Be careful with the Sun, it is more precious than you know"
Snorb blew a heavy riff on a kazoo in agreement.
And Bertrand vanished once again, leaving behind one scorched chair, three stunned constellations, and a handwritten note:
“If the Moon acts up again, I’m turning it into a giant ceramic tea saucer and filing it under ‘M’ for Mistake.”
The Owl Auditor Supreme™ slammed the glowing parchment down onto Zef’s enchanted conference table (which immediately tried to absorb it, but Bertrand hissed and it backed off).
“The moon,” Bertrand announced, adjusting his monocle with a talon, “has once again committed ten counts of reflective vanity, five counts of unauthorized eclipse giggling, and, I swear by Andy's bejewelled codpiece, a full lunar quarter spent displaying its left side exclusively out of spite.”
Zef sipped his tea, eyebrows mildly intrigued.
“Did the moon express remorse?”
Bertrand squinted.
“It made finger guns at me using craters.”
Zef nodded solemnly. “So… no, then.”
---
Across the room, Snorb was trying to staple his shadow to the wall.
Bertrand ignored this. For now.
“In addition,” Bertrand continued, “Libra has unionized in an effort to bring balance to the universe, Orion’s Belt is now considered ‘optional fashion,’ and Sagittarius is in flagrant violation of proper arrow etiquette. I caught him aiming at the Big Docke- err sorry, I must have miswritten Dipper- to ‘see what would happen.’”
Snorb looked up.
“Did it spill?”
Bertrand’s feathers ruffled so aggressively that three nearby glyphs fled in terror.
“I am not paid enough for this. Not by a longshot.”
---
Zef leaned forward, folding his hands like the wise sage he occasionally pretended to be.
“And what of the Moon itself?”
Bertrand slapped down a stamped report labeled “CELESTIAL DIVA WITH LUNAR ATTITUDE – SEE PAGE 87 FOR ILLUSTRATIONS.”
Snorb reached for it and promptly turned into a lemon for five seconds.
“I warned you not to touch my paperwork,” Bertrand growled.
Suddenly there was a horrendous thunderclap outside and and flash of fire lit the windows, on a perfectly sunny afternoon.
Zed smirked knowingly "I wouldn't threaten Snorb if I was you... He is protected"
Snorb just preened and then gazed suspiciously at a spot on the wall.
---
As the owl resumed explaining the intricacies of Runic Misalignment Clause 42-B, Zef quietly summoned a glowing quill and began jotting something down.
Bertrand narrowed his eyes.
“What are you writing?”
Zef smiled peacefully.
“I’m… documenting your growing existential crisis. For educational purposes.”
Snorb poked his head into a drawer.
“Does this desk have snacks or is this where you keep the void?”
---
Eventually, after an hour of exhaustive reports, Bertrand stood tall (well, taller), gave a final disgusted sigh, and flapped his wings with bureaucratic menace.
“I’m off to audit the Sun,” he muttered. “Apparently it’s been smirking.”
Zef bowed, and said solemnly "Be careful with the Sun, it is more precious than you know"
Snorb blew a heavy riff on a kazoo in agreement.
And Bertrand vanished once again, leaving behind one scorched chair, three stunned constellations, and a handwritten note:
“If the Moon acts up again, I’m turning it into a giant ceramic tea saucer and filing it under ‘M’ for Mistake.”
