In a crowd it’s possible to hide effectively; it’s also possible to get trampled effectively.
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
But there was a bit of a fall.
This is terrifyingly confusing, isn’t it?
What this professor means to say is that it wasn’t a long fall.
But I did hit with a thud.
And I landed on my back.
Sadly, this professor landed right in the middle of some sort of festival.
There were all sorts of people about, dressed in fancy things–with masks. All different types of masks, too: small, large, black, purple, gray, yellow, lavender (same as purple, only uglier) and Jacob Masks.
It was a festival, for sure.
It was quite noisy.
The professor got to his feet as quickly as an ant runs when about to be crushed.
I came that close to getting trampled myself.
The professor made sure the pack was safe, then–
“Watch it!” some mean, wicked person shouted, banging past me.
I got hit again, on the other side, by a couple roughly dancing about to some sort of rotten music.
Then it became obvious: It was a game of dodge.
And the professor started bobbing, weaving, dodging, and spinning about.
As I moved, it became clear as to where I was. The professor had fallen somewhere into Medieval England, probably very close to King Arthur’s castle.
This was a weird thingy, for sure.
And also perfect.
Since this was the medieval age, after all, there was bound to be someone about who could fix the katana. Blacksmith, see.
Perfection. Sweet-sauce. Yo.
The professor made his way out of the little village (leaving the festival, see), and it was a little village, towards a huge tower-like thingy in the distance.
A path led up to it, and it was just sitting there on a hill. Quite like it deserved to be there.
A guard post or house, no doubting at all.
The professor approached quietly.
First thingy: Needed to find food.
Second thingy: Needed to take care of the dadblame wound.
When I came within an inch of the tower, two fellows in chain mail jumped out.
“Who goes there?”
Typical question, see.
A pike was pointed right at my chest, touching it, in fact.
“Yes, who goes there?” the other guard repeated.
“None other than PVJ,” I answered.
The guards exchanged glances. “What’s he want?”
“Some food, I’d say, and some bandages.”
The guards kept exchanging glances.
This was worrisome. Glancing guards are worse than biting spiders.
Quicker than a noodle, I turned, and took off, heading back towards the festival.
Something was up.
“Come back here!”
It was a chase. A pursuit.
Too bad the katana was broken.
It wasn’t long before the professor was back in the festival, playing the game of dodge again.
“Watch it, man!” a guy said, as I ducked left.
But that’s the thing: Don’t duck left unless you know you can duck left.
I banged right into a lady, knocking her over.
In the process, the professor hit his head. That, combined with the wound and lack of food…was all it took.
I was out cold in a second, like a fly caught in an electrical surge.