It takes years of training to learn how to open doors without using hands. I mastered that frustrating trial eons ago, so how come it wasn't working now?
I woke up early because I ran out of paper, so I was going to trade one of my books with the priest for a stack of 64. But, surprise, I'm not getting paper anytime soon. I banged my heavy body against that stupid wooden thing that seemed to mock me. I growled with frustration and tried the door for what seemed like hours, until the sun was high in the sky, and my fellow townspeople were out.
A young boy passed my building. He jumped back, frightened when he saw me. A crazy madman that can't get out of his own house. Kind of like a zombie villager. Zombies come in your house, make you a zombie, then both you and the zombie can't get out because you're zombies, so you bang on the door again. When the boy realized my skin wasn't green, he stepped closer to inspect me. But his eyes drifted past me, staring at something behind me. I looked back to see what he was staring at and the door whipped open in my face.
"Watch it, kid!" I shrieked angrily. But my stupid nose covered 2/3 of my mouth, so it came out as a muffled "her!" After I got over the fact I had rotten speech, I realized the boy left the door open, so I dashed outside. I was probably hallucinating, but I could've sworn his robe turned purple as he browsed my bookshelves when I left the library.
I wasn't even 15 blocks down the gravel path when I heard screams. I ran as fast as I could to find the source of the noise, and tripped over my robe. With my head down, I heard more screams, crunching gravel, and something sizzling. When I lifted my face up, I saw that the church house was lit up like a giant torch. Villagers surrounded the burning building, all talking at once. Two butchers carried out a man in a white robe. He was unconscious, but fire still ate up his skin. I realized he was the priest I intended to trade with, now close to death. I ran to his side, speechless. As if he read my mind, one of the butchers said,
"There's nothing you can do, Pruve. You'll have to make your own paper from now on." Um, yeah. Three things wrong with his logic.
1. Um, hello? This is SUPERFLAT. I CAN'T make my own paper! It's not like, 'Oh! Look! A sugarcane in the middle of NOWHERE.' Welcome to the real world, giganto-nose!
2. What do you think, I have no heart? I'm sad he's dying because I WON'T GET PAPER. No, really. You THINK I would actually do that.
3. I am PROFESSOR Pruve. Not Pruve.
Before I could shout a sassy word to that know-it-all butcher, a random dude ran up and splashed a bucket of water on the priest. I realized that's what I was hearing, gravel crunching. This guy was running to get water from the well to save him.
"How did it happen?" He asked breathlessly.
The priest managed to mutter three words:
"Purple robed- boy."