At the Mod Squad gas station on the corner of Fools Landing Road and Airport Blvd Dan, the owner, had left his extension ladder and bucket of numbers leaning up against the sign that advertised prices. As soon as someone finished filling up at the pump Dan would race outside climb the ladder, change the price, run back inside and change the price on the pump. That is how fast the price of oil was changing. While the next person filled up at the pump Dan checked his futures chart on ADVFN placed an order to buy at the ask and waited for the pumper to finish pumping. Then it was back outside to the sign again and so forth all day long.

Not many people in town were all that happy about this situation. With gas prices this high Sherrif Matt was making Deputy Dave tool around town on a Vespa. Stealing "Dave's Ride" had become the pass time of about a dozen practical jokers. Anyone caught speeding just went a little faster and got away. Farmer Brown, Matt's dad, claimed he had out run the Dave on his tractor. "No Dave I ain't seen your Vesper today neither." Was a common retort among the ‘illuminati.'

In the middle of his campaign for reelection Mayor Bob was doing everything he could think of to try and keep the town from going bankrupt. Talk Green and Be Seen was his new working campaign strategy. Igor his limo driver was now clamoring about town in a wagon pulled by two horses who sported signs that read "We Recycle". His rival Board of Education President Clem Kadiddlehopper, has plastered signs all over town of a man cleaning his shoe captioned "That's Horseshit!"

Clems campaign slogan was "Get Drilled" and sure enough he went from farmhouse to farmhouse all day long trying to convince those at home during the day that getting drilled was exactly what they needed. It might be tinged by a bit of jealousy but the Women's Auxillary was his biggest supporter.

So with essentially everyone in the town government caught up in the usual buffoonery it wasn't hard at all for the people who ran the Laundry to swindle a few people out of some hard earned cash. Over in the corner behind a set of pink sheets hanging from a rope to conceal it was a small printing press. All day long you could hear it kerplunking out certificates. Most people were well aware that you had a better chance of losing your shirt than getting it cleaned and returned, still a steady stream of people visited the laundry everyday.

Oddly enough if you asked anyone at all where exactly this laundry was they would tell you there was no laundry in town at all. Then they would pause and starting to laugh would ask: " Have you seen Dave's Vesper?"

The Ihub Nine.

As if things in Boogerville weren't bad enough already with the ibox editor and the broken tractor and all. Along comes Mr Minimart threatening to sue the bandits for enabling bashers. Never before in the history of stupidity had the town of Boogerville seen anything like this. Suddenly there were spies hiding behind the cows, sneaking from tree to tree. People dressed up in rodeo costumes pretending to fit right in. Peter the Postman was followed everywhere he went. As soon as he would drop a letter in a mailbox another hand would take it out and read it over. It got so bad there was not a person in the whole town one could trust. Rumor had it that Sherif Matt was on the take and that Deputy Dave was seen driving a brand new Escalade.


Part of the confusion was caused by the fact that no one seemed to know how many Minimarts there actually were. Was it 1800? None? Or was there only the one Mr Minimart himself? Groups of people huddled over coffee cups in booths at Shelly's Greasy Spoon debated this issue endlessly. After which of course they would all be deleted. What had only yesterday been a town of mostly pasture and farm land suddenly had brand new Minimarts everywhere. Help wanted signs hung on every door front. The rooms at the Dew Drop Inn had at least 7 people in each of them. The RV park was filled. Many local people had pitched tents in their yards and were renting them out on the side. And yet, odd as it might seem over at Pigglie's Bank and Trust no one was making any deposits.

How this had all come about was just as mysterious as the ingredients in the Meatlof at Shelly's. It was claimed by some that a group of nine sorcerers held the whole town under a spell. People who believed in this theory spent all their time arguing that the spell had to be broken and when it was the TRUTH would be found. Some even went so far as to insist the nine were not really that good at spelling and the simple remedy was to catch their mistakes. Obviously these people were know as the Kvetchers.


Another group called themselves the quire. A spelling mistake that the Kvetchers couldn't help but ridicule. Theses people had as their leader the Preacher and as I am sure you can imagine he preached to the quire. The Preacher insisted that every minimart was as real as could be. He even bloodied his fist pounding on the door of one to make the point. A small splinter group of his followers referred to themselves as the bleeders. According to the sign hung on the storefront of the storefront church the sermon this week was "How the Seven Deadly sins became Nine and what you can do about it."

Wow...what a bizarre story.

It might seem odd that the Bishop should host a mask but life in Venice is like that. So everyone was ordered to Venice for the occasion. Weeks were spent designing and making the proper masks for the occasion. Preparations in the Salone delle Feste at the Palazzo Labia with it’s celebrated frescos depiction the life of Anthony and Cleopatra by Tiepolo and Girolamo Mengozzi Colonna went on for weeks.

Hordes of paparazzi milled about the city waiting for the guests to arrive. Invitations has been mailed out to an unbelievable member of people and the only one to respond with regrets was a certain Costa Rican who claimed he couldn’t get his papers in time for the trip. More than a few people claimed that his not coming was proof that he didn’t exist.

Nonexistence turned out to be a major theme in this sordid affair. Hundreds of once upstanding invitees it seemed suffered from this same misfortune. They just did not exist. Finally on the day of the Feste the ballroom so resplendently adorned was filled with about a dozen people.

Apparently unlike the internet where multiple alias might be difficult but are not unknown, or unlike the movie The Prestige where multiple replications might be possible with the right Tesla machine in real life, (this is real life is it not?) showing up EVEN at a masked ball in Venice was problematic if you wanted to continue to pretend you were who you were not.

I realize that some of you will object and suggest that anyone could simply hire others to show up at the mask and pretend they were so and so. This is not however really the case. Consider this point, If Riddle in fact does exist for him to hire someone else to pretend to be another version of himself with another alias this person would have to have intimate knowledge of Riddle’s life and actions. Surely as in the Prestige it could actually be a twin but that is not the case here. These people are in fact replications.

Anyway you will just have to take my word for the fact that only 12 people showed up and all of them ironically enough were dressed as and wore the mask of Agent Smith from the Matrix. Well that is not entirely true one was dressed like Divine in the movie Hairspray.

:)

Around four o'clock the bishop twirled a chocolate covered rum soaked cherry between his fat fingers. The diamond glistened in the afternoon light. He was sitting in a chair on the veranda talking with Sander Levin better know to most as Rep Levin. the congressman from the Michigan’s 12th District. As usual they were discussing Gynecologic Cancers and Johanna's Law. Fra Angelico brought them each a glass of the hazelnut liqueur Frangelico.

Down by the pump house young Riddle was trying to determine why the pump was not working. After about 16 hours he realized that it was a foot driven pump that required slave labor. This was a common form of pumping water during the Roman Empire and this particular pump was from that period. Some people claimed this was a completely erroneous notion pointing out that there were no Roman’s in Michigan. Threatening law suits and demanding proof and affidavits. Some claimed Riddle was a complete idiot. Some claimed he was a tool of the devil. Some claimed the pump wasn’t there.

Tentatively Riddle put his feet on the petals. The flowers moaned. Then he stepped ever so carefully onto the pedals of the pump. At first he could barely force the pedals to move, but slowly with the encouragement of a short dwarf behind a tree he managed to get a small trickle of water to begin filling the upper pond. “Lien on it harder. Use all your weight.” Encouraged the dwarf.


“I think you meant lean and not lien but I am afraid I am just too lean to keep this going up for very long. ” sighed Riddle.

“How the hell can you correct my spelling when I am speaking?” asked the somewhat illiterate itinerate dwarf.

Enter Exit.


Early the next morning the Bishop was called out of the rectory. So much had transpired that it seemed almost senseless to begin again. Tales of tournaments and jousts were replete with heroes and devils. Recounting them seemed like 10 hail Mary's and a few mea culpas. You could say it until you were blue in the face but it would do no good.

Once upon a time before the second dwarf war and the coming of the Count de Churak the island was victim to a strange climatic variance in which flooding was not unusual and drought occurred on a regular basis. No one seemed to know from one season to the next if raincoats and galoshes, would be the craze or bikinis and suntan lotion were in need.

It was during this period often referred to by historians as the age of disinformation that periodic references to George Orwell and Horace’s sex life became obscure. The French historian Rabelais wrote extensively about his stay at the Paris Hilton and his disappointment at the lack of intellectual vigor of the period. Cervantes and windmills became a major theme.

Riddle stared into the cold, yellowy eyes of the shadowy figure standing before him. Neither one blinked.

"Replevin!" cried the one.

"Unchivalrous liar!" exclaimed the other.

Swords rattled in their scabbards.

The crew watched anxiously from the foredeck of the Black Shell. Aye, the line was surley drawn, and there would be no rum for anyone until the outcome was decided.

Replevin went a courting and he did ride uh huh
Replevin went a courting and he did ride uh huh

Yes! Sounds exciting! And swashbuckling!!

You mean The Pirates of the Crying Being?

So when do the new adventures of the Pirate and the Sacred Shell begin?

Will the pirate crew survive the ordeal before the Duke of Austin?

Will the legend of the Costa Rican gold turn out to be real?

Will Riddle land another gal?

I ain't looking back.

I think she's right behind me - can you check?

See if you can save euridice.

Hey that guy looks just like me!

Creepy.

Once they figured out that they could remove from the shell a purple die that would fulfill the desire of kings to spend money and be much admired they knew they had a winning combination. I fully expect these fools will try and save the shell from extintion. Once they have languished in the no news long enough I expect they will reverse split and recreate another moon shot. The only question now is who will the brain police hold responsible and who can get away with turning the new cloth purple. I doubt the Bishop will worry much.

Yes pretty much it is over. The phoenix came to flame and now the rebirth from the ruins is just another Xmass story.

Orpheus: http://www.pantheon.org/articles/o/orpheus.html

Don’t Look Back.

I'm not so sure

So, that's it? The tale is told?

lololol

The March On Washington.

Many people in the castle had argued that the Bishop’s eulogy for the Prince was given in haste and under pressure. Amid the shuffling of cards and a quick game of hot potatoes many protested that if Lazarus could be revived so could the Prince of Fools. And so it came to pass, for god so loved the world that he chose neither Alexander the Great nor the King Tutankhamen to lead his people, but verily I say unto you, chose rather to resurrect the Prince. So it is written.

Off in the Desert of Misunderstandings where the caravan of confusion waited out the storm new maps circulated with directions for a new journey. “I thought we were headed for Nasdaq?” asked many a bewildered traveler. Finally True Long a member of the inner circle of the tribal leadership rose up and quieted the crowd.

“I know you have waited here in the desert for weeks now wanting truth and justice in return for your hard earned cash. Now we have but one more journey to make. No more will Nobo the jinn be allowed to haunt the ruins of your dreams. Nor will Slippery the Short be allowed to steal the bread from your mouths. Today we are headed to land of Truth and Justice, the promised land, the bastion of honesty and ah the land of the do gooders. Tomorrow we will set off on our Journey to Washington.”

Peals of laughter went up from the crowd. “Washington? You must be kidding? Is there a place in the whole country where there is more corruption than Washington? The whole place is a bastion of perverts, thieves and liars, Surely you have drunk of some wild potion”

Meanwhile back at the manor young Deniala was beginning as they say to show. Poor Riddle was beside himself with anguish and spent most of his time drinking huge amounts of the waters of forgetfulness and alternately running to the latrine. Deniala’s father was in a rage seeking the truth about her circumstances. Though he berated and even pleaded with almost everyone no one would tell him who might be the father of his pregnant daughter.

The Slovenian Prince was as you might guess happy as a pig in shit. Everything that he had predicted had come to pass. He sat sipping on a glass of fermented mare’s milk and eating a plate of hot links. Bemused about the forlorn circumstances of the Prince and his followers.

Where's the next installment? What happens to Rufus and the manor serfs? What happens to the Bishop, and the caravan that's stranded in the desert???

What about the dark Slovenian Prince? What happens to him?

And Riddle and the Maiden Denialia???

The Notary Republic.

“We will halt trading, on the day, at the completion of the merger. After the 10K is filed, we will halt trading, and come back out the next day under the new symbol, and at $15 a share.”

The castle had grown quit and fretful. Many people seemed to have left or to have been killed during the Basher’s last raid. Even those Bashers once imprisoned in the dungeon had been freed. The Castle Guard had been reduced to a skeleton crew. The sarcophagus had been returned to its resting place in the Castle keep and the few moanings that were emitted from it seemed almost meaningless.

The Prince did throw a dinner party for a few of his close supporters. They dined on chips and salsa and combo plates of enchiladas. Margaritas, Mexican beer and the obligatory Crown Royale were served as beverages. The Prince gave a long oration about his successful campaigns in Finland, Canada, Venezuela, South Africa, the Philippines, Hungary, Brazil and Panama. Recounting his meetings with Popes, Middle Eastern Sultans, United Nations Officials, Famous Mayors and the occasional prostitute.

Name tags had suddenly become all the rage among the followers of haute couteur fashion. This was due to the fact that many of the Princes companions used aliases and couldn’t remember from one minute to the next what their real names were. It was not uncommon to hear one of them remark “I would tell you who I am but I prefer the anonymity of being whomever I please. Besides it could lead to legal problems.”


By contrast the Manor was a veritable orgy of pomp and circumstance. Players played and dancers dances and a fine feast of fresh venison with turnips, acorn squash, Brussels sprouts, various salads, and bread was enjoyed by all except a few vegetarians. . A whole room in the manor had been reserved just for the fresh fruits and desserts. Wine, Champagne, and a full open bar accompanied the meal.

The Bishop gave a short speech on the virtues of forgiveness. Afterwards there was the whole catalogue of Bond movies to choose from. Getting naked took on its old meaning and Riddle and Deniala spent the night in a hammock strung between to trees near the waters of forgetting. A lute played softly in the distance.

Who would fardels bear?



After the Prince’s 7 hour press conference the true believers were out in force demonstrating around the castle. Clerks, lawyers and accountants hypothesized on hypothecation. Most insisting that any fool could understand that the fact that the SEC was under investigation in one case was proof that the SEC was in error on this case. After all the naked shorters had gotten the exchange to add the infamous E as a secret signal to the SEC that Slippery needed some help. So it was clear now that the SEC had stepped in and halted the stock to further aid and abet the same criminal mastermind, Slippery the Short. Could anything be more obvious?

Reviews of the Prince’s ramblings tended to differ. Some of course focused on the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” while others noted that they had been conflicted the whole night long by the thought that “To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.” Some admitting quite frankly that yes they had fallen asleep.

A few in the barracks of the Castle Guard debated whether or not the Prince was a bit daft. This was quickly met with terms of derision by those who sipped on the magic potion of the prince’s wine steward. “Basher be damned!” They exhorted and two were slain “With a bare bodkin” right on the spot.

Riddle had only thoughts of “ The fair Deniala! -- Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered.” He was losing his patience and growing hornier than a toad. He sipped on the water’s of forgetfulness and grew tired of the endless banter.

For the most part the people of the manor had stopped caring one way or the other for the good people of the castle. Most felt that they had done all they could to warn them and the fact that their pleas were met with nothing but scorn convinced them to just stop caring. Much of their attention now turned to legal matters, sophistry and fine rhetorical points. “He is an idiot.” For example.

“The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will.....”

The Bishop was on the phone almost immediately checking with his Florentine bankers, threatening once more that he would move his money to Milan or back to Rome if he received no satisfaction in these matters. Lorenzo pleaded with him to calm down, reassuring him time and again that everything covered and everything was fine. A small unfortunate loss now would mean nothing at all in the bigger game.

Out in the Desert of Misunderstandings the caravan had come to a halt near the Spring of the Examinations. Much needed water was taken from the spring and a lamb was slaughtered in thanks to the jinn of the spring.
“Why are we halted?”
“We have merely stopped because we wanted to.”
“I heard we are checking the ropes and wheel spokes and we will be going on to Nasdaq soon.”
“I have been hearing we have changed our plans and we are going on to Amex instead.”
“I only have free shares.”
“What are free shares?”
“Free shares are what you get when things aren’t going well.”
“Is it like hives? I get hives when things aren’t going well.”
“No it has nothing to do with bees.”
“I heard free shares are what you get when there is no money to pay you for your labor.”
“Are you pregnant again?”
“Yes I have heard free shares are like money in the bank.”
“What happens when you can’t get anyone to buy your free shares?”
“You don’t lose anything because they are only free shares.”
“Are free shares anything like wife swapping?”
“My wife doesn’t think so. She is talking about husband swapping.”
“Are you a cuckold? You do wear a rather large cod piece.”
“I don’t wear a codpiece at all.”
“So then are you just excited about the sheep or what?”
“I think we will be leaving in the morning,”
“I have heard we will be here for a while.”

Near the castle gate an expeditionary force of Knights, squires, pages, Amazons, Fair Maidens and ladies in waiting gathered. They were preparing for a journey to Nasdaq the mysterious city so renowned in legend about which very little was known. Legend had it that the city had streets paved in gold. No one there was known to every have spoken a negative word. No one of the tribe of Basher was allowed within a mile of the place. Flowers bloomed everyday and the weather was perfect all year round. Three large carriages outfitted with teams of four Percherons each left the castle surrounded by 10 knights in full armor riding on Destrier Horses outfitted from head to tail in mail. Each knight in turn was covered in diamond patterned blue silk.

Noting that to the east was the road that led to the Manor, to the north the road that led to Slovinia, to the south the road that led to the Land of E the party decided to head west on the road that led across the Desert of Misunderstandings up onto the Plateau where it joined with the Road to Rich’s. Though they speculated that their travial in the desert would be short they did plan ahead with barrels of water and wine to placate their thirst as the headed off into the desert.

That night in the library at the manor John Kennedy Toole was scheduled to give a reading from his novel “A Confederacy of Dunces.” Some objected that Toole himself had committed suicide almost ten years before the book was published but others pointed out that since they had been consistently wrong about almost everything for months there was no need to worry about facts now. Besides consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.

As usual a small group of ne’r do wells was drinking over at Rich’s the small saloon, hotel and casino over on the other side of the Desert of Misunderstanding. A number of them were playing poker in the game room back behind the bar room and discussing putative realities, Uranus, sex with animals, the Stinky Cheeseman, grubs, festering wounds, their winnings, their losings, dirty underware and well you know the usual stuff most of which ought to get deleted anyway.

As Riddle followed the path along the Waters of Forgetfulness, he became aware he was nearing the lair of the Oracle of the Sarcophagus.

The trees had a black, sickly look to them. Overgrown and twisted, briar bushes lined the narrowing path. Riddle suddenly realized how quiet it was. There was no sound of birds, no wind in the leaves....even the Waters, which chattered happily near the Manor, seemed subdued and barely flowed.

He stumbled, looked down, and saw fresh carriage tracks. A little further along, a wine bottle cork lay near the path. He picked it up and sniffed it - it was quite fresh. Upon closer examination, he saw the cork bore the insignia of Friar Perignon.

Suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense. Riddle hastened his pace along the path.

Very soon now, he would confront the Oracle.

Six to one or a half a dozen to the other.

The arrival of the 10K legion seemed to stupefy the castle residents. What was supposed to be good news somehow turned into yet another quandary. The castle’s physicians ordered the whole lot quarantined and no one could find out why.
“It is something that starts with E that is what I heard.”
“I heard it ends with E.”
“I heard it is a form of sleeping sickness.”
“Nothing to do but hold till the dust clears.”

Still it was seen as one more excuse to lash out at the Dark Slovenian Prince.
“It is all his fault. He has attempted to poison the legion all along.”
“He is a proven fraud and a liar.”
“He is the short bastard son of Slippery and the whore of the Naked Short.”
“We have hired the bounty hunter Bob’s your Uncle to find him and bring him to justice.”

In the square a magic show demonstrated the folly of believing what was right before your eyes. Where only just a minute ago a lone dove was pulled from hat now 6 doves circled. Mad raucous applause rose up from the crowd. At the opposite end of the square a short edited version of the goose that laid the golden egg ended with loud demands of encore encore.

Spirits at the Manor had improved noticeably. The impotency of the 10K Legion received more than its due share of mockery. Jokes about cuckolds and over stuffed cod pieces rolled off every tongue accompanied by wild laughter and a few gallons of fermented grapes. Prince Rufus himself was the but of many a jibe. Mocked not only for his inability to perform but also for the ridiculous hyperbolic schemes he concocted to impress the Cult of the Clueless.

With the abbey closed for repairs the Bishop had taken up temporary lodgings in the rectory at the Cathedral. From there he communicated with his bankers by cell phone, though he was forced to step outside to get good reception. He fended off demands for more wool by sending partial shipments with promises that the fleecing would be finished soon enough. No need to worry.

Riddle say by himself, on a haystack near the path that led to the Waters of Forgetfulness. He heard the celebration in the castle, which had been running for over a week now. Word had it the army of the 10K had been sighted only three furlongs away.

Periodically, Riddle would look up as another drunken celebrant fell from the ramparts and landed with a loud splash in the moat below. But he did not smile. Alas, he was brooding over the loss of Deniala to the Dark Slovenian Prince only two days ago. To make matters worse, he'd just had a disturbing encounter with the Bishop. Apparently, everything that had happened recently had done nothing to secure freedom for the serfs of the manor. The Bishop and the king had grown fatter than ever. Riddle looked the case of fine wine the Bishop had just given hm. It had not been the outcome he hoped for.

He mused on the current problem. How could the serfs break free, and make a life for themselves far from the chains of drudgery, pumpery, and the rank smell of molding hay?

Then he had a thought. Quietly he arose, and set off down the path to find the Oracle of the Sarcophagus.

Oh I’ve been waiting on the 10K
All the livelong day.
On I’ve been waiting on the 10K
Just to pass the time away.

Not only had the 10k legion not arrived at the castle gates but suddenly overnight 10,000 people had just disappeared. Lists were posted about the castle and only people on the lists remained. Many moaned that they should have been on the list and threatened the kneecaps of the evil AMTD. Frantic phone calls to Mitch the Listkeeper were made. The harvest moon parade was canceled and the float was locked up in the stable. Fatwa the Kuwaiti wandered about the alleyways looking for potential joint ventures.

A vehement debate was going on in the Hall of Neverendings about the reliability of the Oracle of the Sarcophagus. Some it seemed had come to doubt his veracity. Others thought the whole thing was just a mirage created by smoke pumped out of a squealing pipe. Many continued to defend his prognostications citing the well known example of Phoenician engravings having been found in the jungles of Brazil.

Free toothpicks were handed out after every meal. Classes were held in the Palace Tutorium on ecology and global warming with an emphasis on the economic ramifications of carbon sinks and exotic hardwood bathtubs.

The repairs to the damage done to Manor by the recent hail and brimstone were going fairly well. Spirits were not so high among the serfs but their fortitude was not lacking.
“Oh we work eight hours
And sleep eight hours
And have eight hours of fun.....” They sang as they did their repairs.
Couriers arrived with death threats for the elusive Slovenean and for the even more evasive Slippery the Short.

The Bishop seemed preoccupied with other things. He spent most of his days on the phone with his banker in Florence. Running out now and then to do charity work for the ill and impoverished. His nights were dedicated to legal scholarship and a vacation he was planning on an Island in the new world.

Terms Of Uncertainty.

Badminton, rapier practice, a round of log tossing, occasional bruises,
Saving the world, carbon credits and the redundancy of Amazon cruises.

Even Kent not Clark had reservations about the boy king with the cobra crown.
Clichéd phrases, flippers phrases and what goes up must come down.

The usual t o u debate by the conceited.
Getting the point across and then getting deleted.

Lulu

Monday Oct 3 1018

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva was dumb struck. The Kyoto accords, global warming, Alexander the Great has returned from his conquest. Just as the Oracle of the Sarcophagus had predicted the Great Phoenix has landed in Brazil. The Cobra has struck. Never in history had such a miraculous story been told. Bolivar himself could not have conquered more of South America with such ease. Hogo smiled. Castro passed out boxes of Cohibas. The Bishop declared a year of Jubilation.

The people of the castle went wild. Cheers and shouts of joy filled the air. Chanting dancing throngs paraded through the square “BOOYAH...BOOYAH...WE GONNA MAKE THE MOOLAH.” Newsies ran around screaming “Extra. Extra. Read all about it” Kool aid (spiked and unspiked or the teatotalers) and canapés were served from the Palace kitchen. And with the exception of the one member of court caught sending dirty notes to Pages things could not have been better.

The Manor was a bit of a different story. The peasants were all out scything the wheat. The long blades of their tools as sharp as an owls eyes. The rumblings and mumbling among them grew.
“You know the legend of Urban and the diamonds?”
“You mean the Urban Legend?”
“The Ent’s are not going to like this when the word gets to the forest.”
“None of this is real.”
“Are you having an existential crisis?”
“No you idiot I am talking about the bonds.”
“Now you are into bondage?”
“Yes I agree it is complete fabrication and it suffers from delusions of grandeur.”
“We need to attack the castle. We need to raise every able bodied peasant and attack the castle.”
“Perhaps we can get the Dark Slovenian Prince to send in his army to help us?”
“Yes the Urban legend.”

The fetching young Deniala had unbuttoned a few of her buttons from the heat of her work. Riddle eyeing her could barely control himself. He was constantly adjusting his cod piece and dreaming up ways to get her alone.

War was declared and a messenger was sent to Slovenia. With strict orders to bring back barbecue for dinner.

I'm on the edge of my seat - sounds the final Holy Battle draws ever nearer...

Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.
-(III.iii.27) Billy S the Tempest.


In the square near the palace barracks a snake charmer lifted the lid off his basket and began playing his flute. Rhythmically swaying back and forth and twirling the flute in the air as he played. A small but dedicated crowd stood spellbound as the Cobra raised its head out of the basket. As if hypnotized by the music the asp seemed to sway back and forth while lowering itself and then raising itself seemingly effortlessly in the air.

The sisters at the Abby of Incredulity were weavers of tapestries. At present they were working on a large tapestry which told the story of the mystical bird the Phoenix, the so-called fire bird. They employed it as did many in the middle ages to weave an allegory of the death and resurrection of Christ. They had every hope that this tapestry would be received with equal admiration as the Unicorn Tapestry had been when they sent it to the Abby of Cluny in Paris the year before.


Lulled into an opiate trance the good people of the castle seemed laconic almost desperate in there need for some word of the Prince. Sleepy almost catatonic they seemed listless and forlorn. Then a call went out from the crier. “The Prince is about to speak.” Adrenaline poured into their veins. . No bipolar reaction was ever that fast. From a state of almost motionlessness they were catapulted into a state of euphoria, cathartic ecstasy.

The castle’s PA system was turned on.
“Testing. Testing”
Then the Prince began to speak. He reassured them all the 10K legion was in fact on its way. Roars of delight went up from the people. He reassured them that everything they had ever dreamed of would come true. “Paltalk is like watching a Monkey hump a Football.” He related. The Dark Slovenian would be defeated. All of their enemy’s would be vanquished. The harvest would yield a cornucopia of bounty the world had never even contemplated before. These things and more he promised the good people of the castle.

Weakened Edition.


Just as Deniala was undoing her corset and Riddle removing his hair shirt the voice of Deniala’s father was heard in the barn. “Get up there now and toss down some hay.” Quickly Riddle grabbed his shirt hat and cloak and leaped from the window in the rear of the barn. “Is someone up there?” called the now suspicious voice.
Deniala was frantically dressing but managed to say sweetly in her calmest voice, “Oh it is only me father. I had thought maybe instead of dancing the day away I might toss down some hay for the horses.”
“Ah that’s my girl always thinking of what’s best.”



Over at Kick’s coffee shop in the Walmart in Plano Day trader was sipping on a caramel macchiato and reading Barons waiting for his wife to finish filing up her cart. Lots of extra things this week like the new flat screen tv. It had been a great week. Rumors were circulating that yp in Tyler folks were pretty excited about the week to come. Two years in the making and everyone thought this was going to be the week. Fingers were crossed they could hardly wait.

On Sunday The Bishop presided over a High Mass. Every one from the castle and everyone from the manor turned out. The Cathedral was packed and though there were hard feelings on all sides everyone prayed together. The Bishop’s sermon was based on Matthew 19. An inspiring oration on the virtues of marriage and children interspersed with a few pejorative statements about wealth ending with a heroic call for charity and giving. After which solid gold plates lined with felt were passed around the Cathedral for the offering.

Afterwards back at the castle the huddled masses yearning to live free debated calling in Madame Blavatsky and her crystal ball. Asked by the diminutive cook weather they preferred roasted or pan-fried fish the response was unanimous. “FRY SHORTY FRY”

Ergo...are the Waters of Forgetfulness available in different flavors?

44 Kool-Aid Flavors, Past and Present

Apple Berry Blue Black Cherry Bunch Berry
Cherry Cherry Cracker Cola Eerie Orange
Frutas Golden Nectar Grape Grapeberry Splash
Great Bluedini Incrediberry Kickin-Kiwi-Lime Lemon-Lime
Lemonade Man-o-Mangoberry Mountainberry Punch Oh-Yeah Orange-Pineapple
Orange Pina-Pineapple Pink Lemonade Pink Swimmingo
Purplesaurus Rex Rainbow Punch Raspberry Roarin' Raspberry Cranberry
Rock-a-dile Red Rootbeer Scary Black Cherry Scary Blackberry
Sharkleberry Fin Slammin' Strawberry-Kiwi Soarin' Strawberry-Lemonade Strawberry
Strawberry Falls Punch Strawberry Split Strawberry-Raspberry Sunshine Punch
Surfin' Berry Punch Tangerine Tropical Punch Watermelon-Cherry

Yep.

Bathing in the Waters of Forgetfulness.

Here's a pic of Deniala....



-Riddle

Mmmmmmmm....Deniala....sweet Deniala....

THE PERFECT TRAP
"The key is to commit crimes so confusing that police feel too stupid to even write a crime report about them."
Randy K. Milholland


Thumb twiddling. Finger tapping. Flag hoisted up the flag pole drooping a bit.
The bishop sat at his desk in the Abby. “Well Slippery I guess you’ve had your way today.” He laughed taking a chilled oyster from the tray in his fat hand and eating it. “Odd as it might seem I got some good news this afternoon about a rather large order for wool coming from abroad.”

Over at the Manor the serfs were crushing freshly harvested Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunierand, and Chardonnay grapes for the Abby, a festive and jovial task that always entertained them. Young Sam plucked at his lute and sang bawdy lascivious songs he had learned from the Goliads. Pausing now and then to munch on some sweet dates. Riddle and the Maiden Deniala slipped off to the hayloft in the barn.

Within the castle the mood swings were dramatic. Early in the day a former caravan owner insisted he could vouch for the Oracle of the Sarcophagus’ claims that everything was turning up roses. But where was the 10K Legion of reinforcements? Without that the Bastions Of Serfdom might just overwhelm the now depleted Palace Guard. A building inspector was called in because a number of people thought the Roof in the Great Hall might just cave in. He promised to have his report either this evening or by Monday. To which the Hall Keeper remarked “This should have been done yesterday.”

Later that evening a notice of delay was sent from the Commander of the Foreign Legion that in fact the 10K legionaries had all contracted legionaries disease. To which many replied “you mean those bastards have air conditioning?” A second courier followed practically on the heals of the first with a notice that Lord Bensta of Mistywood had in fact won the bean counting contest and would win the prize of a week at the stables cleaning up stalls.

In the dungeon most of the captured Basher Tribe were debating how best to undermine the bonds. Two or three of them were suggesting that if you didn’t believe in the bonds then they would not restrain you. In fact they all stood up and raising their hands n the air demonstrated that in fact their bonds did not exist. Soon all of them were free and the sappers among them began to dig. They took turns watching for the guard and when ever Col. von Luger passed by they all pretended nothing at all had changed.

LOL, well done.

Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

Janice was quite clear. She had the hots for meatloaf. “When I have a mini-MEATLOAF for dinner, I use about half a bottle of pretty hot hot sauce.”

Hopsctch fed him first.” hey pops nah not anything special today, just a stuffed meatloaf for dinner.”
I have never been a fan of meatloaf. Phil (Bullrider)
You won't like my meatloaf then Phil. Susie924
Cintrix was alone with him.” Ok, this is the MEATLOAF story - Chu will never let me live it down. One night I'm pm'ing him and said that I had a MEATLOAF in the oven. After I mentioned that within the next hour I find out my husband isn't coming home for dinner because he's playing golf, my one kid calls me from the mall and says she bought Taco Bell, and my other kid calls me from the neighbor's house asking if she can eat over their house, they were having pizza (or, as we would say, a pie). So there I was alone with my MEATLOAF and Chu making fun of me!”
Churak was confused. “and here I thought it was cause your first boyfriend was MEATLOAF and you gave him the phrase "good girls go to heaven but bad girls go everywhere" to incorporate into one of his songs...,my bad”
skeballlarry drank diest coke to insure he didn’t gain weight “Started off w/a Salad, made up ''my-way'' .... !!!(a meal in itself) ..... Two-Catfish-slabs, meatloaf .... Diet coke ...”
Matt chimed in “MEATLOAF is disgusting. .....MEATLOAF, I just loathe
lobogotti agreed “I hate MEATLOAF”
BuzzOnDaBeach requested. “REQ: MEATLOAF”
djr63 felt sorry for him “Poor Meatloaf”
He was angry but lacymarie1 confessed. “I made a mean MEATLOAF”
And when pressed on the point confessed. “OT: Damn! You didn't miss much, MEATLOAF was dry and well, I didn't make good gravy,”
Generally speaking, I don't like meatloaf either. janice shell
Drummer grilled him “I grill a mean meatloaf. :)”

[Suppressed Sound Link]

The Long Squeeze.

The Bishop sat in his carriage a gold goblet in his hand filled with the new sparkling wine Friar Perignon had mistakenly created. His two companions were enjoying their beverage and smoking Cohiba La Habana, Cuba. The carriage was parked on the edge of the Cliff of No Return overlooking the Castle and the Manor below. Smoke drifted in the air.

In the Castle the mood remained jubilant with jesters, jugulars, acrobats and clowns performing all day long. A contest was held to see who could scale the castle walls the fastest. Much sport was made of the loser Basher Tribe. Those unfortunate enough to have been captured during the warfare were now held in bondage in the dungeon where they were treated to the most heinous tortures. Anyone found trying to break the bonds was threatened with death.

Early in the day the Palace Players tried to provide entertainment with a rendition of Beckett’s “Waiting For Godot.” The crowd would have no part of that however and demanded something with a lot more action. During the afternoon they returned with a second drama about the Prince and the Black Knight. Roars went up for the Prince and his every word was treated as gospel. “It is true so true” they heckled. While the Black Knight was jeered, spit upon and various vegetable matter was tossed at his every appearance. No one could stop it. The ending was seen by most to have been totally unacceptable. And the Players were once more accused of being worthless scoundrels.

After the players were removed and the markets closed up shop the Legions of Conversion turned angry once more with the rumors emanating from the dark Castle of the Slovenian Knight. Death threats were heard among the legions and a plan was put forth to gather up a posse and sever his head from his shoulders. What only a few moments ago was hailed as the total victory now took on the guise of resentment. Profits lost on profits not taken drove them practically insane with rage. Many who had put down the sword now took it back up with a call to arms.

snicker

Please don’t disparage the Fair Maiden’s reputation you rake.

D'oh! Deniala....there's other things we can do....LOL

The Dominion of Melchizedek

He who sells what isn’t his’n
must buy it back or go to pris’n.

— Attributed to Daniel Drew, 1797-1879

Over at the Temple the ‘hem netjer’ and ‘hemet netjer’ discussed hieroglyphs inscribed on the tomb of the boy king.
“The wings of the Phoenix have only begun to reveal the mysteries, the cobra has only begun to strike before the final countdown.”

Over in the barracks of the Palace Guard Mattilda the Teutonic Maid had been handing out new blankets for most of the month. Rumor of the assault had hung in the sweat scented air for days. The smithy had been hammering steel and sharpening blades ever since the last battle. Clean smooth steel polished to a mirrored finish stood ready in the armory. The shields all been prepared with fresh enamel coats of arms.

At the Palace the Bishop's carriage had been summoned. A Number of people were seen to enter the carriage just before the gates were opened and the horses galloped off. But there was not a page or squire who could or would tell who that was that departed. Almost immediately a call to arms went up within the castle. “TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” Called the crier. A message that was repeated by all that was in ear shot of his voice. “TO ARMS!” “TO ARMS!”

The battle itself was a glorious affair. Practically from the opening of the gates the taste of victory was sweet on their lips. “Die shorty die” “Take that you pompous midget” Never had even the great Achilles led a band so skillful with the sword or accurate with the bow. Homer himself never recounted a battle more skillfully fought. Merciless was the slaughter and great was the schadenfreude on the lips of the victors.

The celebration surpassed all joys in the hearts of the victors. Kegs and vials of the sweetest nectars and the juices of the finest grapes were shared by all. Together they sang as if in one voice the "The Devil Went Down To Georgia"
With laughter and with the tears of joy until many of them could barely whisper a sound .

Many a tale was told about the heroic sword that engorged the fat pig but Slippery the Short was never found among the dead. Whether he was in fact with the Bishop or off in some distant land could not once more be proven.

Down by the waters of forgetfulness the brave Riddle a bit bruised but not beaten sat with the fair Maid Deniala. Who caressed his wounds softly but confessed herself once more to be at that time of month.

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The Boiler Room

The day the pump in the boiler room broke most of the castle was flooded with water. It trickled out everywhere. Ducks wattled down Wall Street. Buzz Lightyear ran all around the castle screaming “TO INFINITY AND BEYOND” The car of choice became a new Porsche. Yesterday’s super hero became the latest stock fraud. The stench from the bulls was everywhere.

Stuckholders volunteered to man the walls. Ballistae were hoisted up upon the parapets. Tutankhamen’s sarcophagus was hauled out from the castle keep and the lid was lifted off. Rumbling sounds seemed to emanate from the coffin. A cloud of smoke filled the air. Mirrors appeared out of nowhere.
“Hold on the 10K are coming”
“Those that stand before me will live. Those that stand with their backs to me will perish.”
All the people manning the walls turned around and looked at him.
“Does he mean us?”

Then suddenly a roar went up from the guard at the gates. “OPEN THE GATES.” “OPEN THE GATES” Four horses pulling a carriage entered the castle at full speed, drove around the sarcophagus and came to a stop at the Palace gates. Was this not the Bishop himself? No one was sure. Though there had been rumors that he would alas save the day. Surely if it was him he had gained some weight which he would need to shed in the future at a much dearer price.

Jubilation spread once more through the crowd. Pigs were slaughtered for the feast. A comet was seen to pass above the Palace in the sky. Brimstone hailed down upon the nay sayers.

“Hear Piggy Piggy Piggy.”
“We are going to get you now Piggy Piggy.”

Out in the fields among the Bastions of the Bedeviled many bemoaned the plight of their bondage. A number of them gathered near the Rock of the Allthing near the Waters of Forgetfulness.
“I don’t think its worth it.”
“I don’t think they have even half the weapons they claim.”
“It is all just over rated junk.”
“This little pigs wants ice-cream"
“We would need trabucets, towers, ballistae, pikes and sappers.”
“Maybe if we just march around the castle walls three times the whole thing will just fall down. I’ve heard of others who have had luck with that plan.”
“We could huff and puff and blow the place down.”
“Look you idiot when they were passing out brains your mother must have thought they meant pains and said you didn’t need those.”
“I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?
“Cooked books....”
“Ah thats, Ah thats, Ah thats all folks”

Swashbuckling adventure?