A/N: Lackaday, it has been a short amount of time since my latest batch o' drabbles, so here are a few more and I'll get right to work on some more.
Boq hated cleaning those damn manuscripts. Sure, Crope and Tibbett were entertaining on occasion, but one could only stand so many hours of yodeling before it became trying. All he could think about, besides the beautiful Miss Galinda, was how he needed to make his father proud. As he sliced his palm open with the surprisingly sharp cleaning bristles, startling Crope and Tibbett out of their heated yodeling competition, and bled all over his latest freshly cleaned manuscript, a word came to mind rather clearly. Shit.