Commuting

Quaffing the last of my quickening cup,
I chuck fair Josie, my predatory protégée, behind her ear.
Into my knapsack I place fell Destruction,
my weapon in a thousand fights against the demon Logic
(not to mention his dread ally the Customer
who never knows exactly what she wants, but always wants it yesterday).
He sleeps lightly, but is ready
to leap into action, confounding the foe
with his strings of enchanted rubies and pearls.
To my thigh I strap Cecilweed, the aetherial horn
spun from rare African minerals in far Taiwan
and imbued with subtle magics by the wizards of Mountain View.
Shrugging on my Cuirass of Visibility,
I mount Wellington, my faithful iron steed
his spine wrought in the mighty forge of Diamondback
his innards cast by the cunning smiths of Shimano
and ride off, dodging monsters the height of a house
towards the place the ancients knew as Sràid na Banrighinn
The Street of the Queen.

Just wanna clarify that in lines 5 and 6 I'm not talking about the Growstuff customers, all of whom have been great.