by 
The epic (and utterly chaotic) story of Patsy Wackelwitz
From myself, who else?
Dear audience,
I don’t know why you’re here – maybe you clicked on this entry by mistake or you’re looking for tips on how to lead a proper life (in which case: wrong address!). But anyway, you’re here now, so prick up your ears and let me tell you the legend – mine, that is.
The birth of a catastrophe
They say that every hero or heroine needs a great starting moment. For me? Well, my “big” moment was probably when I fell for the first time – probably before I could even stand. And it hasn’t really improved since then. I’m a walking disaster, a personified catastrophe with a penchant for exaggerated drama.
My talent? Chaos!
I am not a knight, a powerful magician or a fearsome barbarian. No, my special skill is a mixture of uninhibited chattiness, self-deprecating humour and a remarkable ability to rescue myself from any embarrassing situation with an even more embarrassing statement. My grandma – the highly esteemed, dreaded Irmintrude Wackelwitz – simply calls this “immaturity”. I call it “a strategy of survival”.
The eternal mission – to fulfil granny’s expectations (or not)
According to Grandma, I should have been married long ago, have three children, run the household to perfection and ensure world peace while baking sweet curls. So… yes. Let me put it this way: the chances are worse than a one-legged gnome in a sprinting competition.
She once introduced me to a guy from the mages’ guild. A highly intellectual, completely unemotional theorist who took half an hour to explain how fireballs are created. Me? In the meantime, I had packed my bags, assumed a new identity and organised an imaginary escape to Mordor. Er, wait, wrong game. Hahaaa
The thing with the arrow in the leg (no, not a hero thing!)
Yes, you read that right. I have an arrow in my leg – but not in an epic “I-fought-a-battle-for-the-sky’s-edge” kind of way. No. I was fishing. FISHING. And a completely crazy bloke with a bow thought I was a particularly agile fish. Zack, arrow in. And there it was. My own personal “hero moment”.
Chapter 5: Skeletti – my personal nightmare on two bones
I would love to tell you that my adventures have led me to epic dragon fights and heroic battles. Instead, I have an uninvited permanent guest: Skeletti. Yes, a skeleton that haunts me. An imaginary, semi-existent, weird bone guy who grins at me out of nowhere, sings songs about me (yes, REALLY!) and apparently sees himself as my personal showmaster. And me? I’m the involuntary leading lady in his grotesque musical production. It’s great.
Wooden brain – My personal hero on two legs
Holzhirn is a… cough… special case. He’s big, strong, mysterious – and unfortunately blessed with the social skills of a tree trunk. I keep trying to explain my charming, breathtaking, incredible appeal to him, but it’s a bit like trying to teach a brickwork how to flirt. I say things like:
“Wooden brain, do you like me?”
And he’s like: “Huh?”
And then me: “So you don’t like me? Or do you like me so much that you don’t want to admit it? Or do I like you so little that I don’t even realise it?”
Wooden brain: “What are you talking about?”
Well. It took me a long time to find out how I really felt about him. And even longer to find out how HE feels about ME. Spoiler: I still don’t know.
The finale – or: another evening of epic failures
So, dear diary, in case you’re wondering if my days ever end normally – NO. After heroically dragging myself out of the tavern (after an epic conversation with woodbrain in which I talked my head off yet another time), for example, I bumped into an old acquaintance outside – I affectionately call her “Schranki”
If you remember, I called out to her super bravely at the time: “Come here if you dare! ” – and when she actually dared, I… er…. ran. Hahaaaaa
Now she was sitting there with that “I-remember-EXACTly-you” look. And me? I did what I do best: Crack a stupid line. Or were there several? I can hardly remember!
“Well, old friend! Surely you’re here to celebrate my glorious return? Or to admit that the ONLY reason you didn’t beat me back then was because you felt too sorry for me?”
(Spoiler: She didn’t do any of that. She did… something else. Something well…… It suddenly got dark 🙂
“Dear diary, and so ends for now my glorious biography of the courageous, absolutely not embarrassing Patsy Wackelwitz. I will go down in the history books – under the category of ‘master of unintentional self-destruction’.”
Conclusion? I am chaotic. I am loud. I am Patsy. And if you thought this was all there was to it – don’t worry, I can definitely make it worse. Ha!
