After a while, when you're driving along the highway, you lose all sense of time. The hypnotic movement of a car on the highway, the bland unchanging scenery - it all fades into a daze. Pretty soon, the time is passed and you didn't even know it.
It's pretty much the same when you're hog-tied in the back of the pick-up truck. Gina had been there several hours and was no longer thinking. Just riding along.
And suddenly, the car stopped. She expected, hoped, her host would come and open the top of the truck. He didn't. If he had stopped for food or shelter it was for himself alone.
And shelter it seemed to be, because after an hour they were still stopped. Gina guessed they were at a hotel room, and the brute was just going to make her stay the night tied up in the car. And damn but he could tie a good knot. Her assumptions that she could escape if she wanted to proved erroneous. She had just about given up when the back of the truck bed folded down. Amidst a hotel parking lot, she saw the face of Rob Bluntz.
"Gina," he said, cutting her bonds, "I'm here to rescue you!"
"Mphhmhp?" she began. She ripped the tape off her mouth. "Rescue me? Rob, I'd thought maybe you were capable of kidnapping to get me back. But to stage a fake kidnapping so you could rescue me? That is beyond sick! You-"
"It's not fake Gina!" he cried.
And strangely, she was starting to believe him. The only reason to do this would be to win her back, and he was to stuck up to stoop that low. He would have tried to woo her on his own merit.
"Who is it then?"
"Did you ever think your father might have enemies, Gina? There are people who want to use you to get to him. People who haven't seen the whey."
"Rob, this is your car. I saw the smile on your face when you pulled up in the gas station. I don't believe you're not involved."
"It's complicated! We can discuss this later, the important thing now is to get away before... Oh shimnol."
She looked up to see the source of his distinctly Order of Floobel curse, and saw a big man with short black hair and a handlebar moustache emerging from behind an SUV.
"You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Bluntz," the man said in dripping tones, "But not as smart as you need to be. After all, I only need one living political prisoner, and a dead one adds a lot of weight to my claims." He raised a small handgun and pointed it at Rob. As he pulled the trigger, time slowed down. Gina threw herself at Rob and pushed him down, all the while screaming. The bullet seemed to be trudging through mud, and the smoke rose from the gun like it was a chimney. Then they hit the ground, and it all speeded up. The mustached man was drawing a second gun. The hotel clerk was running out of the building. Gina and Rob rolled under the SUV, thankful for it's oversized tires. They stood up and ran when they'd reached the other side, Rob leading them in between car after car while more gun shots and shouting came from behind them. Finally he led her into a small red car. She hopped in, knowing she was just being kidnapped again, because it beat sticking around. She was not prepared, however, for who she saw in the driver seat.
"Hey, sis," came the voice of her brother, "Long time no see."
Monday, April 26, 2004
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Ch. 31
30 minutes and two tellings of the story later (three if you count the version the guard told the other guards at the coffee shop) Eric and Vlad were sitting in the police chief's office.
"Well," said the chief, captain Jack Silverstein, "On the one hand that sounds like the biggest load of horse excrement I've ever heard in this office. On the other hand, it checks out with details you two've got no way of knowing: The security camera shows a woman just like the one you described and shows that the van had a Maine plate, although we can't read the number. Of course, you could know all that because you're part of the scheme. Or, you could just be telling the truth. So here's what I'm gonna do: First, I'll go into that little room and call Mr. Lin, to see if your stories line up. If I'm satisfied, than we'll talk about rescuing your hitchhiker friend. Does that work OK for you folks?"
"Fine with me," said Eric, who made a point of arguing with cops as little as possible.
"Could I go home and get my lobster first?" asked Vlad, who had no such rules.
"Can it wait?" the chief said, in a voice that really said 'It can wait. Sit Down.'
"I don't know. Lobsters are temperamental creatures."
"The Department will reimburse you for your lobster if it is injured or killed as a result of this investigation. Now just sit tight for a minute."
Captain Silverstein walked into his office, picked up the receiver, and dialed the phone. Fifteen minutes later he returned.
"Alright, boys," he said before even getting back in the room, "Your story checks out. So here's the plan: A couple of guys from the Bureau are comin down tomorrow mornin. They'll be investigating the kidnapping anyway. Given the nature of the situation, I'm going to strongly recommend they involve you in the investigation. You seem to know a hell of a lot about this, and personally, though you didn't hear it from me, I've got more confidence in you cracking this then them."
"What if they deny your recommendation?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked because they almost certainly will. Stuck-up bastards won't let anyone help them with their jobs. If they don't want your help, there's nothing I can hold you here for, so I recommend, off the record of course, that you try to find your girl yourself. I'll let you know in the morning. Go home and get some sleep."
"Thank you very much, " said Eric sincerely, "I figured the cops wouldn't understand>"
"We're not all the donut-and-coffee boneheads you see in the movies," he answered, "Just 97 % of us, and all the Feds."
"Well," said the chief, captain Jack Silverstein, "On the one hand that sounds like the biggest load of horse excrement I've ever heard in this office. On the other hand, it checks out with details you two've got no way of knowing: The security camera shows a woman just like the one you described and shows that the van had a Maine plate, although we can't read the number. Of course, you could know all that because you're part of the scheme. Or, you could just be telling the truth. So here's what I'm gonna do: First, I'll go into that little room and call Mr. Lin, to see if your stories line up. If I'm satisfied, than we'll talk about rescuing your hitchhiker friend. Does that work OK for you folks?"
"Fine with me," said Eric, who made a point of arguing with cops as little as possible.
"Could I go home and get my lobster first?" asked Vlad, who had no such rules.
"Can it wait?" the chief said, in a voice that really said 'It can wait. Sit Down.'
"I don't know. Lobsters are temperamental creatures."
"The Department will reimburse you for your lobster if it is injured or killed as a result of this investigation. Now just sit tight for a minute."
Captain Silverstein walked into his office, picked up the receiver, and dialed the phone. Fifteen minutes later he returned.
"Alright, boys," he said before even getting back in the room, "Your story checks out. So here's the plan: A couple of guys from the Bureau are comin down tomorrow mornin. They'll be investigating the kidnapping anyway. Given the nature of the situation, I'm going to strongly recommend they involve you in the investigation. You seem to know a hell of a lot about this, and personally, though you didn't hear it from me, I've got more confidence in you cracking this then them."
"What if they deny your recommendation?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked because they almost certainly will. Stuck-up bastards won't let anyone help them with their jobs. If they don't want your help, there's nothing I can hold you here for, so I recommend, off the record of course, that you try to find your girl yourself. I'll let you know in the morning. Go home and get some sleep."
"Thank you very much, " said Eric sincerely, "I figured the cops wouldn't understand>"
"We're not all the donut-and-coffee boneheads you see in the movies," he answered, "Just 97 % of us, and all the Feds."
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Ch. 30
It's a special bonus update!
When they arrived, the police were everywhere. They couldn't even get into the gas station.
"Sir, you'll have to get your gas somewhere else. This is a police investigation," the guard said gruffly.
"You don't understand," answered Eric, leaning over Vlad to talk to the man, "That's my car."
"We thought it belonged to the woman who got kidnapped."
"Kidnapped? What happened?" he asked, realizing in spite of himself how bad it would look if he seemed to already know.
"Look, you guys had better come in. Park over there. He gestured to a curb by the police car.
When they got back in the officer was ready with a pad of paper.
"So who is the legal owner of the vehicle?"
"We sort of co-own it, I think. I'm not sure.":
"Look, what's your name?"
"Eric Smellick"
"Well, this car is registered to a Mr. Ti Wau Lin. So unless that's your friend there, you've got some more explaining to do."
"We're friends of... Mr. Lin," Eric said, diplomatically and not untruthfully, "He lent it to us."
"And who is us?"
"Me, Vlad Berglotssenn, and the girl who got kidnapped."
"And her name is?"
"Annette."
"Last name?"
A beat.
"I really don't know. We picked her up as a hitchhiker, she -"
"Hold on," the man broke in, "You let a hitchhiker whose name you don't even know take a borrowed car from another state to the gas station, while the two of you drive around in an SUV from Indiana? I need the whole story."
Vlad looked at Eric. Eric looked at Vlad.
"Okay," answered Eric finally, "But we'd better sit down for it."
When they arrived, the police were everywhere. They couldn't even get into the gas station.
"Sir, you'll have to get your gas somewhere else. This is a police investigation," the guard said gruffly.
"You don't understand," answered Eric, leaning over Vlad to talk to the man, "That's my car."
"We thought it belonged to the woman who got kidnapped."
"Kidnapped? What happened?" he asked, realizing in spite of himself how bad it would look if he seemed to already know.
"Look, you guys had better come in. Park over there. He gestured to a curb by the police car.
When they got back in the officer was ready with a pad of paper.
"So who is the legal owner of the vehicle?"
"We sort of co-own it, I think. I'm not sure.":
"Look, what's your name?"
"Eric Smellick"
"Well, this car is registered to a Mr. Ti Wau Lin. So unless that's your friend there, you've got some more explaining to do."
"We're friends of... Mr. Lin," Eric said, diplomatically and not untruthfully, "He lent it to us."
"And who is us?"
"Me, Vlad Berglotssenn, and the girl who got kidnapped."
"And her name is?"
"Annette."
"Last name?"
A beat.
"I really don't know. We picked her up as a hitchhiker, she -"
"Hold on," the man broke in, "You let a hitchhiker whose name you don't even know take a borrowed car from another state to the gas station, while the two of you drive around in an SUV from Indiana? I need the whole story."
Vlad looked at Eric. Eric looked at Vlad.
"Okay," answered Eric finally, "But we'd better sit down for it."
Ch. 29
"Eric, I am here!" Vlad was jumping out of his SUV. "What is the next move?"
"Got the cell phone?"
He pulled it out of his pocket and presented it to Eric.
"Master Lin told me how to use this to track the car," Eric explained as he loaded his things into the back of the SUV, So we can get started chasing them down right now!"
"Chasing them down?" asked Vlad.
They were in the car now; pulling out of the driveway.
"Who are they?"
"They," Eric answered as he franticly pushed buttons, "Are the people who took her!"
"Eric!" Vlad shouted as he pulled the car over. He waited a minute and said, more softly, "What makes you think she's captured? There are many other explanations. We must be cool headed."
"Vlad, Master Lin told me she'd been captured. It's in the prophesy."
A look of understanding passed Vlad's face as Eric continued.
"Now this says the Ringo Harrison is parked in a gas station a few miles from here. The attackers must have stopped for gas."
"For two hours? I think not. EIther they removed the tracking device or they didn't take her car."
"Damn." said Eric, and that said it all. They drove on towards the gas station anyway.
"Got the cell phone?"
He pulled it out of his pocket and presented it to Eric.
"Master Lin told me how to use this to track the car," Eric explained as he loaded his things into the back of the SUV, So we can get started chasing them down right now!"
"Chasing them down?" asked Vlad.
They were in the car now; pulling out of the driveway.
"Who are they?"
"They," Eric answered as he franticly pushed buttons, "Are the people who took her!"
"Eric!" Vlad shouted as he pulled the car over. He waited a minute and said, more softly, "What makes you think she's captured? There are many other explanations. We must be cool headed."
"Vlad, Master Lin told me she'd been captured. It's in the prophesy."
A look of understanding passed Vlad's face as Eric continued.
"Now this says the Ringo Harrison is parked in a gas station a few miles from here. The attackers must have stopped for gas."
"For two hours? I think not. EIther they removed the tracking device or they didn't take her car."
"Damn." said Eric, and that said it all. They drove on towards the gas station anyway.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
Ch. 28 (Really)
After Gina was two hours late, Eric got a little worried. Finally, he called Vlad.
"Hello?" Vlad answered.
"Hey Vlad," said Eric, not bothering to introduce himself, "Do you know where Gina is?"
"Then she is not with you?"
"No. She was supposed to be here two hours ago. Has she got the cell?"
"No, I've still got it."
"Damn. Look, can you come over to my place and pick me up?"
"Not a problem," he answered, "Except that I do not know where you live, which is a problem."
Eric gave Vlad brief directions, told him to hurry, and hung up. Slightly panicked, he called Master Lin.
"Nights and weekends, toaster seeker," Master Lin answered, "This is neither."
"Sorry, Master, but it's important!"
"So Annette has been taken?"
"Taken? I just thought she was out of gas or something. Where did you get taken?"
"The prophesy mentions it. I didn't foresee it so soon."
Eric was speechless.
"Take heart, toaster seeker. All is not lost. The cell phone you bear can be used to track the Ringo Harrison. That should give you the clues to seek her."
"Are there any other... prophecies I should know about?"
"Only one. 'If the toaster seeker or his fellowship should hear one of these prophecies, the quest shall surely fail.'"
"Figures. Are they all that straightforward?"
"No. Now go. You have much to do and your long distance bill grows high."
And that was the end.
Eric grabbed his things, locked up, and went out to wait for Vlad.
"Hello?" Vlad answered.
"Hey Vlad," said Eric, not bothering to introduce himself, "Do you know where Gina is?"
"Then she is not with you?"
"No. She was supposed to be here two hours ago. Has she got the cell?"
"No, I've still got it."
"Damn. Look, can you come over to my place and pick me up?"
"Not a problem," he answered, "Except that I do not know where you live, which is a problem."
Eric gave Vlad brief directions, told him to hurry, and hung up. Slightly panicked, he called Master Lin.
"Nights and weekends, toaster seeker," Master Lin answered, "This is neither."
"Sorry, Master, but it's important!"
"So Annette has been taken?"
"Taken? I just thought she was out of gas or something. Where did you get taken?"
"The prophesy mentions it. I didn't foresee it so soon."
Eric was speechless.
"Take heart, toaster seeker. All is not lost. The cell phone you bear can be used to track the Ringo Harrison. That should give you the clues to seek her."
"Are there any other... prophecies I should know about?"
"Only one. 'If the toaster seeker or his fellowship should hear one of these prophecies, the quest shall surely fail.'"
"Figures. Are they all that straightforward?"
"No. Now go. You have much to do and your long distance bill grows high."
And that was the end.
Eric grabbed his things, locked up, and went out to wait for Vlad.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Harry and the Fly
This was a one word story that came out of a family trip. The tune to "Way Down in Hell, Michigan" is to the tune of Don McClain's Chain Lightning, moreso than anything else.
Five times the splendid, ragged wheel of death by leeches screeched by. Five times the dreaded sunrise of squishy paste was oozing into a large fractal of sky. Five more beings exploded before noon.
The newspapers screamed their deadly screams. The television exuded all the news of devastation. In San Juan, mice reported that cats of unusual resplendancy and indeterminate size were tromping throughout upper Nova Scotia.
Harry Bloo was drinking orange martinis frequently.
"'Ello 'Arry" a fly greeted him.
"Hello fly named Al Ouch. Cursed muffins were blossoming from earmuffs yesterday. Dummy, haven't you seen enough to juxtapose devastation with peace throughout the territory?"
"Gosh no," answered Frumm, who had overheard nothing, "Every thirteen seconds I've sneezed for the fuzz. I'm through."
Suddenly, Al began sweating profusely. Al burst into song.
"Way down, in Hell, Michigan
I can't reach my designation.
Cursed muffins swat Harry's spoon,
Soon we'll hit -"
The song ended. An eery howl was cutting the heads off of the petunias underneath the floorboards. Death permeated everything.
I'm sure you'd rather see a real update by now, so I'll work on it. The last three words of the song are, by the way, "the promised land."
Five times the splendid, ragged wheel of death by leeches screeched by. Five times the dreaded sunrise of squishy paste was oozing into a large fractal of sky. Five more beings exploded before noon.
The newspapers screamed their deadly screams. The television exuded all the news of devastation. In San Juan, mice reported that cats of unusual resplendancy and indeterminate size were tromping throughout upper Nova Scotia.
Harry Bloo was drinking orange martinis frequently.
"'Ello 'Arry" a fly greeted him.
"Hello fly named Al Ouch. Cursed muffins were blossoming from earmuffs yesterday. Dummy, haven't you seen enough to juxtapose devastation with peace throughout the territory?"
"Gosh no," answered Frumm, who had overheard nothing, "Every thirteen seconds I've sneezed for the fuzz. I'm through."
Suddenly, Al began sweating profusely. Al burst into song.
"Way down, in Hell, Michigan
I can't reach my designation.
Cursed muffins swat Harry's spoon,
Soon we'll hit -"
The song ended. An eery howl was cutting the heads off of the petunias underneath the floorboards. Death permeated everything.
I'm sure you'd rather see a real update by now, so I'll work on it. The last three words of the song are, by the way, "the promised land."
April Fools!
For those of you who haven't figured it out yet, that was not the real chapter 28, it was a completely non-cannon prank entry. I love you all please don't eat me. And I posted from Florida because my Uncle's grandson has a laptop and he's a nice guy.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
TNT: Ch. 28
After Gina was four hours late, Eric got a little worried. He called Vlad, who didn't know anything. So he called Master Lin, recalling that he had placed a tracking device in the Ringo Harrison. However, the voice on the line was not Master Lin's. It was scary, dark, and dripping.
"Hello, Eric," it said.
"Wh... Who are you?" he asked, terrified.
"That's not important. What's important is where I am."
"Where?"
"Behind you."
But before Eric could turn around the knife was in his chest. He screamed for help, but no one heard, and by the morning he was dead.
Meanwhile, Gina was quickly discovering that her captors had nothing to do with her father's cult. She was loaded unto a plane, which first tipped her off. After a long trip, she was staring at a swarthy Arabic man.
"You," he said, "Are to be a slave at my club. You will serve drinks and dance or be beaten."
And she serves drinks to this day.
Days later, they found Vlad's body in a dumpster.
The End.
Note: Yep, that's right, it's the end. I got bored, so I just killed off all the characters and finished up that way.
"Hello, Eric," it said.
"Wh... Who are you?" he asked, terrified.
"That's not important. What's important is where I am."
"Where?"
"Behind you."
But before Eric could turn around the knife was in his chest. He screamed for help, but no one heard, and by the morning he was dead.
Meanwhile, Gina was quickly discovering that her captors had nothing to do with her father's cult. She was loaded unto a plane, which first tipped her off. After a long trip, she was staring at a swarthy Arabic man.
"You," he said, "Are to be a slave at my club. You will serve drinks and dance or be beaten."
And she serves drinks to this day.
Days later, they found Vlad's body in a dumpster.
The End.
Note: Yep, that's right, it's the end. I got bored, so I just killed off all the characters and finished up that way.
Monday, March 22, 2004
TNT: Ch. 27
Gina woke up hog-tied in the back of a maroon pick-up, only now a tonneau had been added. Obviously they couldn't have the bed exposed with her in it. She surveyed her options. She might be able to break the bonds, it was mostly string and duct tape. However, then she'd have to get out of the truck. She couldn't manage it while it was moving, but she'd be closely guarded if it was stopped. Plus, she new Eric and Vlad would start a rescue attempt.
Keyword, she thought sardonically, attempt. As good intentioned and cute as Eric was, she didn't have a huge amount of confidence in his rescue ability. But then, they wouldn't kill her. In fact, if she played along perhaps she could regain enough standing so that when the guys showed up she could be even more helpful in getting the heating element.
But Gina was still a little puzzled. She knew Rob Bluntz. She'd known the dolt since she was little, and this kidnapping was not his style. He was actually, in some ways, a good guy. He would try a lot harder to convince her to come back before doing something as obvious as this. And why not wait until the lobster was with him?
No, it had to be this other guy who was in control. That could make things difficult.
Oh well, she thought, I'll just have to keep on my toes. Although that's hard when your feet are tied...
Keyword, she thought sardonically, attempt. As good intentioned and cute as Eric was, she didn't have a huge amount of confidence in his rescue ability. But then, they wouldn't kill her. In fact, if she played along perhaps she could regain enough standing so that when the guys showed up she could be even more helpful in getting the heating element.
But Gina was still a little puzzled. She knew Rob Bluntz. She'd known the dolt since she was little, and this kidnapping was not his style. He was actually, in some ways, a good guy. He would try a lot harder to convince her to come back before doing something as obvious as this. And why not wait until the lobster was with him?
No, it had to be this other guy who was in control. That could make things difficult.
Oh well, she thought, I'll just have to keep on my toes. Although that's hard when your feet are tied...
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Thursday, March 18, 2004
TNT: Ch. 26
*Note: My October Archives are broken, and it was in October when Vlad said "Jack, cover for me." So his name may not be Jack. I'll check when I get home. EDIT: His name is, in fact, Jack.*
Vlad's time at home was more interesting than Eric's. He packed his stuff, set the lobster up in his bathtub, and headed off to Sears to see if he was still employed there.
"Vlad! Where you been!?!" screamed Ming Bergljotssen, his cranky Chinese manager, "We had three customers come in wanting to know about toaster personalities andyou were gone!!!"
"Jack," said Vlad under his breath to the man next to him, "I told you to cover for me."
"No!" interrupted Mrs. Bergljotssen, "You work here, do your job! That is what I pay you for!"
"I am sorry," he said diplomatically, "But I was, indeed still am on a quest. One of vast importance."
"A quest? You skip work two days for quest??? You crazy man!"
"A quest for a toaster. A good, kind, just toas-"
"I heard enough! You fired!!"
"Fired?" he asked theatrically, "Fired for doing my job? Ma'm I am an anthropromorphic toaster specialist, and I am trying, against impossible odds, to secure for your store, the specialest toaster there is (from an anthropromorphic standpoint.) You hired me because I know about toasters and their quirks better than anyone. So don't presume to tell me how to do my job!"
"I thought she hired you because you married her so she'd be a citizen," muttered Jack.
Vlad replied with a surrpetitious wink.
The manager meanwhile, had been thinking.
"How long you need?" she asked.
"I will be back at work in no more than two weeks," he replied, supreme in his confidence.
"Okay, we hire temp," she conceded, "You better be back!"
Vlad's time at home was more interesting than Eric's. He packed his stuff, set the lobster up in his bathtub, and headed off to Sears to see if he was still employed there.
"Vlad! Where you been!?!" screamed Ming Bergljotssen, his cranky Chinese manager, "We had three customers come in wanting to know about toaster personalities andyou were gone!!!"
"Jack," said Vlad under his breath to the man next to him, "I told you to cover for me."
"No!" interrupted Mrs. Bergljotssen, "You work here, do your job! That is what I pay you for!"
"I am sorry," he said diplomatically, "But I was, indeed still am on a quest. One of vast importance."
"A quest? You skip work two days for quest??? You crazy man!"
"A quest for a toaster. A good, kind, just toas-"
"I heard enough! You fired!!"
"Fired?" he asked theatrically, "Fired for doing my job? Ma'm I am an anthropromorphic toaster specialist, and I am trying, against impossible odds, to secure for your store, the specialest toaster there is (from an anthropromorphic standpoint.) You hired me because I know about toasters and their quirks better than anyone. So don't presume to tell me how to do my job!"
"I thought she hired you because you married her so she'd be a citizen," muttered Jack.
Vlad replied with a surrpetitious wink.
The manager meanwhile, had been thinking.
"How long you need?" she asked.
"I will be back at work in no more than two weeks," he replied, supreme in his confidence.
"Okay, we hire temp," she conceded, "You better be back!"
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
TNT: Ch. 25
Eric's experience was somewhat less exciting. He got home and packed quickly, than called his boss. He already had a perfect excuse for missing work, and it wasn't a lie. The trick would be getting the next few weeks off. His boss picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey, boss. This is Eric, ..."
"Eric? Where ya been for the last two days?"
"I was in a car accident, ended up in the hospital."
"Sorry about that. But you still shoulda called."
"But I..."
"That's alright, all is forgiven. Just come in tomorrow morning and get to work on the Johnson project."
"Yeah, about that..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you suppose I could take my two weeks paid vacation now?"
"What? Why? You know you're supposed to arrange that at least one month in advance!"
"Well, I just. The accident made me think about a lot of stuff, and I need to decide if I really want this job."
"I'll make it easy for you. If you're not here tomorrow morning, you don't want the job, plus you get as much vacation as you need, though it's not paid. If you are here, then all's well that ends well, kapeesh?"
"But I..."
"Sorry, Eric, but that's show biz."
And he hung up. Eric had always hated that guy. It wasn't even showbiz.
Well, what now? He had half an hour before Gina was due back, might as well make another phone call.
"Greetings toaster seeker," came the wizened old voice of Master Lin.
"How did you know it was me?"
"The ways of the caller ID are not so mysterious as you may think."
"Oh. Right. Listen, I don't know if I can do this anymore. I just called my boss and -"
"And if you follow the path of the toaster seeker, the path of the data processor may close forever, yes?"
"You could say that."
"Search deep within yourself, and tell me truly that the path of the data processor is the one you must choose."
"I can't"
"Then there you have it. The choice is yours, Eric Smellick. Choose well."
"Hello?"
"Hey, boss. This is Eric, ..."
"Eric? Where ya been for the last two days?"
"I was in a car accident, ended up in the hospital."
"Sorry about that. But you still shoulda called."
"But I..."
"That's alright, all is forgiven. Just come in tomorrow morning and get to work on the Johnson project."
"Yeah, about that..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you suppose I could take my two weeks paid vacation now?"
"What? Why? You know you're supposed to arrange that at least one month in advance!"
"Well, I just. The accident made me think about a lot of stuff, and I need to decide if I really want this job."
"I'll make it easy for you. If you're not here tomorrow morning, you don't want the job, plus you get as much vacation as you need, though it's not paid. If you are here, then all's well that ends well, kapeesh?"
"But I..."
"Sorry, Eric, but that's show biz."
And he hung up. Eric had always hated that guy. It wasn't even showbiz.
Well, what now? He had half an hour before Gina was due back, might as well make another phone call.
"Greetings toaster seeker," came the wizened old voice of Master Lin.
"How did you know it was me?"
"The ways of the caller ID are not so mysterious as you may think."
"Oh. Right. Listen, I don't know if I can do this anymore. I just called my boss and -"
"And if you follow the path of the toaster seeker, the path of the data processor may close forever, yes?"
"You could say that."
"Search deep within yourself, and tell me truly that the path of the data processor is the one you must choose."
"I can't"
"Then there you have it. The choice is yours, Eric Smellick. Choose well."
Thursday, March 04, 2004
TNT: Ch. 24
The plan for Indianapolis, however, was worked out. With Gina driving, she would drop Eric and then Vlad at their respective homes to pack. She would then fill up the gas tank on Ringo Harrison, do a little sight-seeing, and come back for Eric. The two of them would go to Vlad's and sleep - Vlad in his room, Gina in the guest room, and Eric on the couch. The first part of the plan went well. Eric was dropped off, as was Vlad.
But as Gina turned out of Vlad's driveway, she noticed something a little odd. She was pretty sure she was being followed by a maroon pick-up. It was trailing far enough behind that Gina couldn't see the driver's face, but she had definitely seen the truck a lot. Since I - 65 at least, probably longer.
Sure enough, when she stopped at the gas station, the truck stopped there, too. As Gina got out to pump the gas, she slid a knife out of her purse and kept it discreetly in her hand. She set the gas pumping and stood by the pump, looking nervously at the pick-up. A man got out. A far too familiar man.
"You get away from me, Robert Bluntz!," she yelled, "I'm not going back with you."
"Oh, but you are," he replied knowingly.
She quickly tried to analyze these words. What could make him so confident, so cocky? She didn't want to find out. She yanked out the pump, scanned her card and hopped into her car. Then she stepped on the gas and sped out.
She risked a look out the rear view mirror. Impossible! Rob wasn't following her. She pulled into a nearby out-of-sight parking lot to collect her thoughts.
And she was promptly knocked out cold by the man who had been hiding in her back seat.
But as Gina turned out of Vlad's driveway, she noticed something a little odd. She was pretty sure she was being followed by a maroon pick-up. It was trailing far enough behind that Gina couldn't see the driver's face, but she had definitely seen the truck a lot. Since I - 65 at least, probably longer.
Sure enough, when she stopped at the gas station, the truck stopped there, too. As Gina got out to pump the gas, she slid a knife out of her purse and kept it discreetly in her hand. She set the gas pumping and stood by the pump, looking nervously at the pick-up. A man got out. A far too familiar man.
"You get away from me, Robert Bluntz!," she yelled, "I'm not going back with you."
"Oh, but you are," he replied knowingly.
She quickly tried to analyze these words. What could make him so confident, so cocky? She didn't want to find out. She yanked out the pump, scanned her card and hopped into her car. Then she stepped on the gas and sped out.
She risked a look out the rear view mirror. Impossible! Rob wasn't following her. She pulled into a nearby out-of-sight parking lot to collect her thoughts.
And she was promptly knocked out cold by the man who had been hiding in her back seat.
Saturday, February 28, 2004
TNT: Ch. 23
The plan for tomorrow night turned out to be somewhat better. They were sleeping at Vlad's house. After a little bit of discussion they decided it would be best to stop by Indy, so Eric could pack for a long trip and try to get leave from work and Vlad could pack and try to salvage his chances of keeping his job. As they calculated, they could stay the night in Indy, get up at six, and make it to the community by 10pm -12am, the perfect time for the cover of darkness. Hopefully by the time they arrived there there would be a plan, and it would involve cover of darkness.
They spent the trip to Indy trying to formulate the plan. They needed one that would keep everyone safe, including the lobster (Vlad was insistent), get them the artifact, and get them out. By the time they reached the city they had several plans, none of which produced the desired effect and were feasible. They came up with this chart, which adequately sums up the hours of discussion.
Plan 1 and 2: Gina or the Lobster is traded for the artifact
Problems: The sacrificee is trapped there.
In all likelyhood the rest of us won't be allowed to leave with the artifact anyway.
Plan 3: We all sneak in, under cover of darkness, and steal the artifact - ninja or mission impossible style
Problems: We aren't Ninjas
Our knowledge of the defenses is dependent or Gina's not entirely reliable memory. [She protested at this, but wasn't able to describe what part of the room the heating element was in, so she conceded the point]
Plan 4: Get help from Gina's brother.
Problems: He may or may not help.
He might turn us in or betray us.
Plan 5: Call in the cops to break up the whole operation.
Problems: They must have some means of not having been shut down yet.
If the cops are on their side, we're in trouble.
Even if they're on our side we'll have a hard time convincing them the artifact is rightfully ours, because it isn't.
[And now in different handwriting]
Plan 6: Send in the lobster, who knows the layout and defenses of the vault perfectly well and has proven he's on our side.
Problems: None [which is crossed out and replaced with , in the original handwriting]
It's BS.
The lobster is too stupid.
Vlad's a moron.
That's what they had to work with when they hit Indianapolis. Not the most promising plan or the most comprehensive list.
They spent the trip to Indy trying to formulate the plan. They needed one that would keep everyone safe, including the lobster (Vlad was insistent), get them the artifact, and get them out. By the time they reached the city they had several plans, none of which produced the desired effect and were feasible. They came up with this chart, which adequately sums up the hours of discussion.
Plan 1 and 2: Gina or the Lobster is traded for the artifact
Problems: The sacrificee is trapped there.
In all likelyhood the rest of us won't be allowed to leave with the artifact anyway.
Plan 3: We all sneak in, under cover of darkness, and steal the artifact - ninja or mission impossible style
Problems: We aren't Ninjas
Our knowledge of the defenses is dependent or Gina's not entirely reliable memory. [She protested at this, but wasn't able to describe what part of the room the heating element was in, so she conceded the point]
Plan 4: Get help from Gina's brother.
Problems: He may or may not help.
He might turn us in or betray us.
Plan 5: Call in the cops to break up the whole operation.
Problems: They must have some means of not having been shut down yet.
If the cops are on their side, we're in trouble.
Even if they're on our side we'll have a hard time convincing them the artifact is rightfully ours, because it isn't.
[And now in different handwriting]
Plan 6: Send in the lobster, who knows the layout and defenses of the vault perfectly well and has proven he's on our side.
Problems: None [which is crossed out and replaced with , in the original handwriting]
It's BS.
The lobster is too stupid.
Vlad's a moron.
That's what they had to work with when they hit Indianapolis. Not the most promising plan or the most comprehensive list.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Google randomness
I am now number 1 on Google for the phrase "Sacred Lobster" (go ahead, try it) and number 9 for "just toaster". Also number 1 for "Eric Smellick" and the only result for the word Floobel. I hope this information is as exciting to you as it is to me.
TNT: Ch. 22
They found a nice hotel. It was clean and the staff was helpful, but it was amazingly cheap. Vlad was having a wonderful night. Unfortunately, he was sharing it with the rest of the room. When he finally stopped snoring he had started talking and now, at 1:00, he was singing. Gilbert and Sullivan. Out of key. The worst of it was, Gina seemed to be sleeping. So it seemed to be just Eric who was having such an awful night.
It wasn't just that Vlad was making a ruckus, although it certainly didn't help. It was also that Gina was asleep just five feet away. In her flattering lilac nightgown, she look so peaceful and pretty and... awake?
"What are you looking at?" she asked groggily, "And will he ever shut up?"
"I was trying to tell if you were awake," Eric lied, "So we could try to deal with him."
Gina said something else, but it was drowned out by a chorus from the Mikado.
"What?" asked Eric.
She leaned it closer to him. "Let's try to wake him. Maybe he can fix it."
So they tried. When yelling failed they phoned the desk and asked for an immediate wake-up call. The bewildered help desk tried it, but it didn't work. Nor did splashing water on his face. Finally, they decided to roll the singing Norwegian off the bed. They pushed and shoved and heaved, and finally he fell and abruptly stopped singing. They collapsed on the bed and almost instantly fell asleep.
So it was that Vlad woke up the next morning to discover himself on the floor and Gina and Eric in bed together. (Clothed and an inch apart, but in bed together nonetheless)
"Eric! Miss Gina!" he exclaimed, "Let's have a little chivalry and respect for the other roommate! If you two wanted a room together," he said winking, "you only had to ask."
"No, no!" Gina exclaimed still confused but awake enough to catch Vlad's insinuation, "We just, well, you were snoring and singing opera and we wanted to sleep, not together, just period, but we couldn't so we tried to wake you but we couldn't, and what are you smiling about?" she said to Eric suddenly.
"Nothing! It's just a funny situation. Irony and stuff."
She just gave him an 'I'm not stupid but I'll play along because I don't want to know the real answer' look.
"Anyway," Vlad interjected, "That's ridiculous. I sleep like an angel."
"Yes," agreed Eric, "Like an awake angel taking a break from hymns to sing light opera."
He scoffed and went off to feed the lobster.
Eric and Gina looked at each other for a minute.
"Look I-" Eric started.
"Don't worry about it," said Gina, smiling, "We'll just make a better plan for tomorrow night."
And when she smiled, Eric wouldn't have been worried about anyway. And he realized something in that instant. 'Starting now,' he thought, 'I'm fishing for cod.'
It wasn't just that Vlad was making a ruckus, although it certainly didn't help. It was also that Gina was asleep just five feet away. In her flattering lilac nightgown, she look so peaceful and pretty and... awake?
"What are you looking at?" she asked groggily, "And will he ever shut up?"
"I was trying to tell if you were awake," Eric lied, "So we could try to deal with him."
Gina said something else, but it was drowned out by a chorus from the Mikado.
"What?" asked Eric.
She leaned it closer to him. "Let's try to wake him. Maybe he can fix it."
So they tried. When yelling failed they phoned the desk and asked for an immediate wake-up call. The bewildered help desk tried it, but it didn't work. Nor did splashing water on his face. Finally, they decided to roll the singing Norwegian off the bed. They pushed and shoved and heaved, and finally he fell and abruptly stopped singing. They collapsed on the bed and almost instantly fell asleep.
So it was that Vlad woke up the next morning to discover himself on the floor and Gina and Eric in bed together. (Clothed and an inch apart, but in bed together nonetheless)
"Eric! Miss Gina!" he exclaimed, "Let's have a little chivalry and respect for the other roommate! If you two wanted a room together," he said winking, "you only had to ask."
"No, no!" Gina exclaimed still confused but awake enough to catch Vlad's insinuation, "We just, well, you were snoring and singing opera and we wanted to sleep, not together, just period, but we couldn't so we tried to wake you but we couldn't, and what are you smiling about?" she said to Eric suddenly.
"Nothing! It's just a funny situation. Irony and stuff."
She just gave him an 'I'm not stupid but I'll play along because I don't want to know the real answer' look.
"Anyway," Vlad interjected, "That's ridiculous. I sleep like an angel."
"Yes," agreed Eric, "Like an awake angel taking a break from hymns to sing light opera."
He scoffed and went off to feed the lobster.
Eric and Gina looked at each other for a minute.
"Look I-" Eric started.
"Don't worry about it," said Gina, smiling, "We'll just make a better plan for tomorrow night."
And when she smiled, Eric wouldn't have been worried about anyway. And he realized something in that instant. 'Starting now,' he thought, 'I'm fishing for cod.'
Thursday, February 12, 2004
TNT: Ch. 21
"So," asked Eric when they got back into the car, "What's with this Red Snake?"
"I'm trying to remember. We had to memorize the contents of the sacred vault in school, but that was a long time ago," replied Gina, who was now taking a turn in the driver's seat, "I think it was supposed to have something to do with the Lobster, actually. Same story, anyway. I'll get it in a minute."
"Okay," said Eric, "Speaking of that, how is our sacred lobster?"
"He seems fine," replied Vlad, "He's been picking at the ring. I wonder if he knows what we're talking about."
"He doesn't!" snorted Gina, "Nothing my father collected is really supernatural! It's just a poor old lobster that got painted with symbols! I've never seen it act smarter than that, and I've known it since childhood."
"Since childhood?" asked Vlad.
She nodded.
"And the symbols have been the same that whole time?"
"Yeah, so?"
"A lobster molts five times a year. If they were painted they'd have to be repainted frequently. I'm surprised no one saw how normal the lobster was when it molted."
"It was kept in the vault. They probably pulled it out just before then."
She laughed suddenly. "We haven't been feeding him blessed food! They'll be furious!"
The others chuckled uncomfortably.
"Wait a minute," said Eric, "Have we fed it at ALL?"
They were silent.
"We probably should pick up some lobster food. We've only had him for a day."
"It's getting late anyway," said Eric, "Let's stop at this next hotel, and we can work out a plan in the morning. We'll get two rooms, I guess."
"That's silly," said Gina, "We'll get one room and you two can share a bed."
Eric looked over at Vlad and resolved to get back at her for that somehow.
"I'm trying to remember. We had to memorize the contents of the sacred vault in school, but that was a long time ago," replied Gina, who was now taking a turn in the driver's seat, "I think it was supposed to have something to do with the Lobster, actually. Same story, anyway. I'll get it in a minute."
"Okay," said Eric, "Speaking of that, how is our sacred lobster?"
"He seems fine," replied Vlad, "He's been picking at the ring. I wonder if he knows what we're talking about."
"He doesn't!" snorted Gina, "Nothing my father collected is really supernatural! It's just a poor old lobster that got painted with symbols! I've never seen it act smarter than that, and I've known it since childhood."
"Since childhood?" asked Vlad.
She nodded.
"And the symbols have been the same that whole time?"
"Yeah, so?"
"A lobster molts five times a year. If they were painted they'd have to be repainted frequently. I'm surprised no one saw how normal the lobster was when it molted."
"It was kept in the vault. They probably pulled it out just before then."
She laughed suddenly. "We haven't been feeding him blessed food! They'll be furious!"
The others chuckled uncomfortably.
"Wait a minute," said Eric, "Have we fed it at ALL?"
They were silent.
"We probably should pick up some lobster food. We've only had him for a day."
"It's getting late anyway," said Eric, "Let's stop at this next hotel, and we can work out a plan in the morning. We'll get two rooms, I guess."
"That's silly," said Gina, "We'll get one room and you two can share a bed."
Eric looked over at Vlad and resolved to get back at her for that somehow.
Monday, February 09, 2004
TNT: Ch. 20
"And what would that be?" asked Eric.
"Back home, we have a vault of sacred objects. They're various things that played a part in my father's fake scriptures. One of the items is called Briksol Ip, or the Red Snake. It's also referred to as the Heating Element of the Eternal Flame."
"Yeah," Eric agreed, "That's a stronger lead."
"Unfortunately, it involves going back home," she said glumly.
"Well then," said Vlad, "We will go without you. We can drop you off somewhere with the lobster, and go in oursel-"
"No," she said in a final tone, "You'd never get in and out without me."
"Maybe it would help if we new more about the... cult," Eric suggested, "Here's the rest stop, and there's a Waffle Shoppe. We'll stop and have waffles and you can tell us."
"Sounds good," Gina agreed, "Then you can listen without getting us killed."
They went into the restaurant and ordered. Comfortable, Gina began her story.
"My father started the Followers of the Whey ten years before I was born. In his version, that was when a great White Stag came to him and told him a great story, which he wrote down in the Book of the Whey. The story was about the four antlered ungulates of old - the stag Engren, the moose Floobel, the elk Gerdam, and the caribou Brim. They had once been warring creatures, always locking antlers against each other, until they discovered the Whey. Now, whey is basically the liquid part of curdled milk, but the Whey was some mystical drink that would bring them peace. Apparently they wanted to share it with humans, and as soon as my father got enough people to follow him they would. He started a closed community on a plot of land in Maine. I grew up believing all this.
"Of course, it's a load of hooey I found that out as I got older. I started noticing how my dad, the great prophet, never showed respect to the idols when he was at home, only among the community. How the money and goods given to the community to facilitate reaching out to new followers always ended up in his pocket. How the community never actually grew bigger than the plot of land. By the time I was 16 I knew it was all a ruse. A talk with my older brother, four years my senior, yielded the rest. As the chosen heir to my father's position of Golden Stag, he was privy to the truth. He of course didn't want to tell, but we were close and I used my charm to weasel it out of him. The truth is my father, down on his luck and low on money, wrote the Book of the Whey off the top of his head. Somehow, through great speech and finding gullible people, he drew people in, building and acquiring more "artifacts" as he went to make him more credible. It was artfully done.
"Now, as a 16 year old girl who was growing up treated like a princess, this information by itself didn't matter to me. I struggled with it and lived with it for three more years, but when my father told me it was time to marry Rob, I started looking for a way out. Rob was one of the worst, who had risen to a high position by being stupider and more gullible, and therefore more devout, than anyone else, and I was to be the final rung in his ladder of success. (Marrying me would bring him into a new order.) I finally made it out at age 20, the day before the wedding. I bought my way to where you found me with smuggled money, and the rest is history. You came when I was out of money."
"Wait a minute," said Eric, "You were hitchhiking from Maine to New York and ended up in Illinois?"
"No, I got out by smuggling myself in the back of a semi truck shipping lobsters caught by the community to where I thought was New York. Actually it was New Mexico, and when you think about it that way, I got off pretty good getting off the truck in Michigan."
"Hmfw Wmfng wf yrn trmnft?" asked Vlad. Reacting to the blank stares, he swallowed his waffle and repeated.
"How long were you in transit before you met us?"
"Three weeks. Enough to take all my money. Speaking of which, who's paying for this?"
"Master Lin," said Vlad, holding up a credit card he had been given, "But you two have not touched your food. Eat up. I will talk."
At once they started shuffling food in rapidly.
"I know another old tale," Vlad continued, "About a walrus and the true meaning of Christmas..."
"Back home, we have a vault of sacred objects. They're various things that played a part in my father's fake scriptures. One of the items is called Briksol Ip, or the Red Snake. It's also referred to as the Heating Element of the Eternal Flame."
"Yeah," Eric agreed, "That's a stronger lead."
"Unfortunately, it involves going back home," she said glumly.
"Well then," said Vlad, "We will go without you. We can drop you off somewhere with the lobster, and go in oursel-"
"No," she said in a final tone, "You'd never get in and out without me."
"Maybe it would help if we new more about the... cult," Eric suggested, "Here's the rest stop, and there's a Waffle Shoppe. We'll stop and have waffles and you can tell us."
"Sounds good," Gina agreed, "Then you can listen without getting us killed."
They went into the restaurant and ordered. Comfortable, Gina began her story.
"My father started the Followers of the Whey ten years before I was born. In his version, that was when a great White Stag came to him and told him a great story, which he wrote down in the Book of the Whey. The story was about the four antlered ungulates of old - the stag Engren, the moose Floobel, the elk Gerdam, and the caribou Brim. They had once been warring creatures, always locking antlers against each other, until they discovered the Whey. Now, whey is basically the liquid part of curdled milk, but the Whey was some mystical drink that would bring them peace. Apparently they wanted to share it with humans, and as soon as my father got enough people to follow him they would. He started a closed community on a plot of land in Maine. I grew up believing all this.
"Of course, it's a load of hooey I found that out as I got older. I started noticing how my dad, the great prophet, never showed respect to the idols when he was at home, only among the community. How the money and goods given to the community to facilitate reaching out to new followers always ended up in his pocket. How the community never actually grew bigger than the plot of land. By the time I was 16 I knew it was all a ruse. A talk with my older brother, four years my senior, yielded the rest. As the chosen heir to my father's position of Golden Stag, he was privy to the truth. He of course didn't want to tell, but we were close and I used my charm to weasel it out of him. The truth is my father, down on his luck and low on money, wrote the Book of the Whey off the top of his head. Somehow, through great speech and finding gullible people, he drew people in, building and acquiring more "artifacts" as he went to make him more credible. It was artfully done.
"Now, as a 16 year old girl who was growing up treated like a princess, this information by itself didn't matter to me. I struggled with it and lived with it for three more years, but when my father told me it was time to marry Rob, I started looking for a way out. Rob was one of the worst, who had risen to a high position by being stupider and more gullible, and therefore more devout, than anyone else, and I was to be the final rung in his ladder of success. (Marrying me would bring him into a new order.) I finally made it out at age 20, the day before the wedding. I bought my way to where you found me with smuggled money, and the rest is history. You came when I was out of money."
"Wait a minute," said Eric, "You were hitchhiking from Maine to New York and ended up in Illinois?"
"No, I got out by smuggling myself in the back of a semi truck shipping lobsters caught by the community to where I thought was New York. Actually it was New Mexico, and when you think about it that way, I got off pretty good getting off the truck in Michigan."
"Hmfw Wmfng wf yrn trmnft?" asked Vlad. Reacting to the blank stares, he swallowed his waffle and repeated.
"How long were you in transit before you met us?"
"Three weeks. Enough to take all my money. Speaking of which, who's paying for this?"
"Master Lin," said Vlad, holding up a credit card he had been given, "But you two have not touched your food. Eat up. I will talk."
At once they started shuffling food in rapidly.
"I know another old tale," Vlad continued, "About a walrus and the true meaning of Christmas..."
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Disclaimer
I do not mean any offense to Republicans, Native Arctic Peoples, Atheists, non-Christians, Christians, Walruses, Bananas, Penguins, or people who wanted to read the toaster story.
How Willy the Walrus Discovered the True Meaning of Christmas
At this point, I don't want to go forward right away because the last post was so cliff-hangery and there's no new perspective I want to switch too. So in lieu of actual content, I'm writing a short one post story.
How Willy the Walrus Discovered the True Meaning of Christmas
Willy was a walrus. He was not a big walrus or a strong walrus. He could not perform songs from HMS Pinafore or precise calculus calculations. He did not look good in a tutu. But out of all the Walruses, he was the best at showing Christmas spirit. Every Christmas, he would be the first to put on his Santa hat, make hot cocoa, or build snow velociraptors. He always gave the most thoughtful presents and threw the most extravagant parties.
One day not too far from Christmas, Willy was putting up his lights when a very small meteor fell on his head. It caused him to wonder if he really knew the true meaning of Christmas. Deciding he didn't, he set off to find it.
The first thing he saw was a hungry Eskimo.
"Hungry Eskimo," he asked, "What is the true meaning of Christmas?"
The Eskimo, unfortunately, neither spoke Walrus nor celebrated Christmas, so he merely lobbed his spear at Willy. Luckily, Willy was small enough to dodge it.
"I guess the Eskimo does not know the true meaning of Christmas," Willy thought.
The next thing he saw was a GOP convention.
"Republicans," he yelled, "Do any of you know the true meaning of Christmas?"
"The true meaning of Christmas is to put an end to abortion and re-elect GW Bush!" cheered the republicans.
"I do not think that is the true meaning of Christmas," thought Willy.
After walking for a while, he saw a discarded banana.
"Discarded banana, what is the true meaning of Christmas?"
The banana was silent.
"Discarded banana, please tell me."
Still nothing.
"I guess the banana is an inatimate object and therefore cannot tell me the true meaning of Christmas," thought Willy and walked off.
"What a stupid walrus," thought the banana.
Finally, Willy encountered an injured penguin.
"Injured penguin," he asked, "What is the true meaning of Christmas?"
"Help... me..." the penguin stuttered.
"That's it!" said Willy, "Christmas is about helping people, just like Jesus did. It's the day when we celebrate the birth of he who died to save us all! Thank you Injured Penguin, thank you."
But the Penguin did not answer because it was unconscious. Willy shrugged and headed back to his house to spread Christmas joy. The penguin died.
(The penguin didn't really die because the banana healed him with it's super powers, but then the Eskimo ate them both which just goes to show you that stuff happens.)
How Willy the Walrus Discovered the True Meaning of Christmas
Willy was a walrus. He was not a big walrus or a strong walrus. He could not perform songs from HMS Pinafore or precise calculus calculations. He did not look good in a tutu. But out of all the Walruses, he was the best at showing Christmas spirit. Every Christmas, he would be the first to put on his Santa hat, make hot cocoa, or build snow velociraptors. He always gave the most thoughtful presents and threw the most extravagant parties.
One day not too far from Christmas, Willy was putting up his lights when a very small meteor fell on his head. It caused him to wonder if he really knew the true meaning of Christmas. Deciding he didn't, he set off to find it.
The first thing he saw was a hungry Eskimo.
"Hungry Eskimo," he asked, "What is the true meaning of Christmas?"
The Eskimo, unfortunately, neither spoke Walrus nor celebrated Christmas, so he merely lobbed his spear at Willy. Luckily, Willy was small enough to dodge it.
"I guess the Eskimo does not know the true meaning of Christmas," Willy thought.
The next thing he saw was a GOP convention.
"Republicans," he yelled, "Do any of you know the true meaning of Christmas?"
"The true meaning of Christmas is to put an end to abortion and re-elect GW Bush!" cheered the republicans.
"I do not think that is the true meaning of Christmas," thought Willy.
After walking for a while, he saw a discarded banana.
"Discarded banana, what is the true meaning of Christmas?"
The banana was silent.
"Discarded banana, please tell me."
Still nothing.
"I guess the banana is an inatimate object and therefore cannot tell me the true meaning of Christmas," thought Willy and walked off.
"What a stupid walrus," thought the banana.
Finally, Willy encountered an injured penguin.
"Injured penguin," he asked, "What is the true meaning of Christmas?"
"Help... me..." the penguin stuttered.
"That's it!" said Willy, "Christmas is about helping people, just like Jesus did. It's the day when we celebrate the birth of he who died to save us all! Thank you Injured Penguin, thank you."
But the Penguin did not answer because it was unconscious. Willy shrugged and headed back to his house to spread Christmas joy. The penguin died.
(The penguin didn't really die because the banana healed him with it's super powers, but then the Eskimo ate them both which just goes to show you that stuff happens.)
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