Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Songs are made of mysteries, and clouds are made of moonbeams...
When our exciting narrative left off last time, i had just escaped the dreadful Earl of Poetasters and made my way to the Duke of Stuff's throne room. The Duke (who, as a toddler, i used to mistakenly call the "Duck of Steve") was out, so i began to browse through his collection of stuff in order to enlighten myself, or at least en-lighten his pockets a bit.
In one corner of his throne room was a pile of blue things. Everything in that pile was blue, so i steered clear of the oranges i found there. In another corner the Duke stored all of the back issues of his magazine subscriptions. Turns out the wise and noble Duke of Stuff subscribes to such rags as Jaywalkers Journal, Overripened Bananas Journal, Some Kid's Younger Sister's Journal, This Meeting Is Hereby Adjournal, The Illiterate Times, Monkey Poo Monthly, Sleeptalk of the Stars, and most recently, Lazy Publications' famous Leap Day Magazine. There were some pretty hot perfume samples lying untouched in the 1824 issue of the latter, which i gladly availed myself of. Sucker.
I turned to face a third corner, over which hung a banner that read "Loot and Pillage." Now i knew the Duke of Stuff had an inordinate amount of loot, but i had no idea he was the proprietor of so much pillage. I started to stuff my pockets with it, like a squirrel whose cheeks are actually pants, when the Duke of Stuff suddenly spoke to me in glorious 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound: "Hey! Who died and made you Duke of Stuff? Was it me? Oh no!! Ack!..." *thump*
I spun around, tripped over a pool of Easy Cheese, fell down, got up, and spun around again to see where the voice had come from. Had i accidentally killed the Duke? I was worried sick about him, and i stepped in it and tripped and fell down a second time. After getting up, i was worried sick about him again, only with more chunks this time. It was getting urgent. But suddenly, above the throne in front of me, the Duke appeared to me in a vision and an odor. This is what he said:
"Ah, my loyal Bensaki. I see you are wearing your new squirrel cheek pants."
"Oh gracious Duck of Steve," I implored, reverting to childish pronunciations in my terror, "Let me explain! These pants were new when i bought them yesterday, and they're still slightly alive, so they just keep stuffing themselves with stuff and stuff. Honest!"
"Worry not, my son. I feigned death merely to freak you out. You should have seen the look on your face. I will give you no more punishment than a mandate to continue this very narrative in a third installment tomorrow."
I hung my head. "Yes, your Dukedom."
When our exciting narrative left off last time, i had just escaped the dreadful Earl of Poetasters and made my way to the Duke of Stuff's throne room. The Duke (who, as a toddler, i used to mistakenly call the "Duck of Steve") was out, so i began to browse through his collection of stuff in order to enlighten myself, or at least en-lighten his pockets a bit.
In one corner of his throne room was a pile of blue things. Everything in that pile was blue, so i steered clear of the oranges i found there. In another corner the Duke stored all of the back issues of his magazine subscriptions. Turns out the wise and noble Duke of Stuff subscribes to such rags as Jaywalkers Journal, Overripened Bananas Journal, Some Kid's Younger Sister's Journal, This Meeting Is Hereby Adjournal, The Illiterate Times, Monkey Poo Monthly, Sleeptalk of the Stars, and most recently, Lazy Publications' famous Leap Day Magazine. There were some pretty hot perfume samples lying untouched in the 1824 issue of the latter, which i gladly availed myself of. Sucker.
I turned to face a third corner, over which hung a banner that read "Loot and Pillage." Now i knew the Duke of Stuff had an inordinate amount of loot, but i had no idea he was the proprietor of so much pillage. I started to stuff my pockets with it, like a squirrel whose cheeks are actually pants, when the Duke of Stuff suddenly spoke to me in glorious 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound: "Hey! Who died and made you Duke of Stuff? Was it me? Oh no!! Ack!..." *thump*
I spun around, tripped over a pool of Easy Cheese, fell down, got up, and spun around again to see where the voice had come from. Had i accidentally killed the Duke? I was worried sick about him, and i stepped in it and tripped and fell down a second time. After getting up, i was worried sick about him again, only with more chunks this time. It was getting urgent. But suddenly, above the throne in front of me, the Duke appeared to me in a vision and an odor. This is what he said:
"Ah, my loyal Bensaki. I see you are wearing your new squirrel cheek pants."
"Oh gracious Duck of Steve," I implored, reverting to childish pronunciations in my terror, "Let me explain! These pants were new when i bought them yesterday, and they're still slightly alive, so they just keep stuffing themselves with stuff and stuff. Honest!"
"Worry not, my son. I feigned death merely to freak you out. You should have seen the look on your face. I will give you no more punishment than a mandate to continue this very narrative in a third installment tomorrow."
I hung my head. "Yes, your Dukedom."
