Londo Mollari

The explosions must be stopped. My boots, they are ruined. I do not know what it was that exploded, but now they are scuffed to the point where polishing, it will do nothing. Is there nothing that can stop these things?

[About fifteen minutes later he writes again.]

Barbed wire. It is not good for coats, no. I think I am starting to get angry. Is there a seamstress here who can fix a coat, or is this also lost?

[Another ten minutes pass.]

Shooting. They are shooting! The bullets are not killing but why would they even shoot me? I am bruised and this is utterly indecent! All I wanted was food! Food! Everyone must eat, even aliens, no? Maybe not the droids. Do droids eat? Maybe little metal things, scraps around the lower place, hm? I will get dinner, and I will not die trying because that is the most ridiculous way to go and I refuse to die in a ridiculous fashion. [A short pause.] Again. Stupid Apostle. Stupid whatever god he prayed to. Stupid Tree, stupid bullets, stupid bomb!

[It’s ten minutes later that he writes the final bit.]

I give up. The dirt, it has my food. I will go, and I will starve, on my little couch in my little house.

[The writing is messy, as the writer is being jostled quite a bit. It probably wouldn't be recognizable if the sentence structure wasn't so distinct.]

This, it is ridiculous! There have been ridiculous things before, but this, it is the most! My chair will not stop! I cannot sit without them taking off and playing music of all things!

I need a gun. To SHOOT MY CHAIRS. EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM. If they are shot, they cannot run, hm? Or must I leash them now?

This is the most undignified, ludicrous, utterly stupid thing that has ever happened in this Sphere.

I think I begin to hate my life.

[[ooc: Musical chairs event. Ambassador is currently a hostage of one of his sturdier table chairs. Feel free to see/laugh/mock/be in the path.]]