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Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Interlude in Black

As the last of the Mounties disappeared into the fax machine- Chuck, Groves, Mr. Mouse and yours truly all looked at each other and said goodnight.

Mr. Mouse went off to his bedroom as did Groves to his aquarium. Chuck opted to sleep outside.

I found a remote corner and performed a set of movements that a hermit crab from Jupiter once taught me. The result of this dance is that one shrinks to a very small size-which I did in order to fit into an empty raisin box-becuase there’s something about raisin boxes that makes me have really good dreams-this time out I dreamed that I was given the task of teaching Rin Tin Tin the Hustle.

Unbeknownst to all of us- there was another inhabitant in the cave.
Deep down in the darkest recess of the subterranean tunnel, Nosferatu was closing the lid to his coffin.

Monday, August 02, 2004

The Cyber Cavalry's Venture down the Islets of Langerhans

The Canadian Mounties appeared to be only mildly stunned by their odd transension through space and matter. They all looked at eachother, did a little tap step with their boots, and said in perfect unison; “Lord ‘tunderin’ Jesus. What’s the problem eh?”

“We’ll explain on the way” said Burgoo King Jr.

The mounties did what they do best- mount. In slightly less than three seconds, all of the red clad do gooders had jumped on the horses and made it nearly a quarter of a mile in the direction of the railroad tressle. Mr. Mouse, Groves, Chuck, Nosferatu, and yours truly all did the robot and threw confetti made from recycled hats like the one little debbie used to wear as a send off.

For the next 56.8 minutes, I endured the aches that came to my furcula, glenoid, and islets of langerhans; while Chuck and Groves moaned; Mr. Mouse fretted; the University of Vermont Equestrian Team snored- and Nosferatu drank. At the end of the 56.8 minutes the Mounties and Horses returned.

“We’ve got some good news and some bad news eh” said the Captain of the Mounties.

“Do continue” Said Chuck.

“Well, we like, got the pictures. So ya woont be hurtin’ anymore eh. They aint much ta look at after gettin’ run over by the trains, but we got ‘em”

“So, what’s the bad news ?” asked Groves.

“Oh, well, we like, got the pictures, but we didn’t get a ‘drat’ or a ‘curses’ or a ‘foiled again’ from any of the folks that tied the pictures to the track, eh”

“So, does this mean we can expect more trouble from Thrum-Cap, Coil, and Admantine in the future?” I asked.

“’Fraid sooo” said the Mounty Captain.

“Oh well” said Groves “At least my nasal barbels and adipose fins don’t hurt anymore”

So, we gave each of the mountys a wheat penny, a North Carolina quarter, and watched as they skipped into the fax machine-then took off to the Great White North.

We then turned our attention to the University of Vermont Equestrian team and their high-tech horses. To each member of the team, we gave an electric pogo stick-and to each horse we gave a package of Passion Fruit Waffle flavored tick tacks and a Theremin. It was the least we could do for these four legged wonderbeings -who had managed to solve our latest problem through their knowledge of sophisticated communication techniques.