Archive for the 'Count Mastroid' Category

Things go South

Sometimes, the best way to end things, is to initiate them.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, the professor was in the lodge, surrounded by all these evil people with guns.

And Count Mastoid was there.

“Take off his mask,” Count Mastoid repeated.

He was talking about me, of course. This professor had an epic spy mask on.

But no one was making a move.

So, the professor, being the genial fellow he is (usually), I took it off.

“Who are you?” the count asked.

“I’m Professor VJ Duke, of course,” I said. Straight up. Honest. My goals in life.

That puzzled him right up the middle for a second or two.

“Why do you want to kill me?”

Time to epic obfuscate. I looked about at all the men with guns surrounding me. “Doesn’t seem like I’m the one trying to kill anyone, you know.”

He didn’t buy it. “You know what I mean.”

Now it was time to tell a few little lies.

Here’s the thing, see, a little lie plus another little lie, doesn’t really equal a big, fat lie. Rather, they equal two little lies. Don’t ask me why. It’s just how lies function in mathematics. #thisiskindatruebtw

Anyways and some, this professor said:

“I didn’t want to kill you, of many courses. I was just…” And I trailed off.

How do you explain the fact that you were walking around like this–

ffd918d6982efe5d55ed9aabbfe5187c

–in a vacationing destination.

“He’s lying,” the girl said. The girl who had tackled me. (The pink is not sexist of me. I’m running out of colors.)

“No, he’s not,” I answered her.

“Yes, he IS,” she repeated, a bit more slowly this time.

“Hush!” Count Mastoid said.

“Look here,” I said, taking charge of the situation, “if this professor was trying to kill you, it’d be dadblamery. Analysts say that not everyone is as focused on you as you are. Do you know what I’m trying to tell you? You think everything revolves around you, when, actually, it revolves around the sun.”

unknown

It made sense to me.

“Dad, I don’t believe him!” the girl said. “He was trying to kill you! Why else is he dressed like that?”

Dad? What an interest, the sudden…

And, of course, just when the professor thought I might be able to talk my way out of things, Daddy Salami and Ruber show up, banging through the front door, guns ready.

“Well, well, welly,” Salami said, looking from Count Mastoid to me. “Looks like our boy”–indicated me here, I fear–“found ya.”

Dadblameit.

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Lodge Fight

If you wonder about the origin of everything, you may come to the conclusion that there was no origin of anything.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, the professor ran back into the lodge like a bat from the depths of heaven, running from an angel who’d had a bad day, and was carrying a torch that was glowing purple, which made it very freaky.

If you think that was a run-on sentence, or that something was wrong in the preceding paragraph, please think again–at some other time, just not now.

Anyways, the decision was before the professor.

Should I help Salami and Ruber knock off Count Mastroid…or, should I do the just thing and stop them?

Of course, the professor, being a righteous and just soul, full of the iniquity of many different nations and tongues, I decided to let things just ‘roll’.

But first, I changed into an epic spy uniform.

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Yups. That’s kinda what I looked like. Complete with the boom-boom as well. #evil

Anyways and a sum that would boggle the mind of an accountant, once dressed, I went downstairs.

That was a mistake, I fear.

“Oh my!” one lady screamed. “We’re all going to die!”

At first, this professor just chuckled. I mean, after all, if I looked that scary, then… #success.

But things got worse. Everyone started screaming. Chaos. That’s what it was. Babies were bleating, too.

Then, this professor noticed movement out of the right side of my right eye on the right side of the lodge.

I thought nothing of it, for this professor was heading towards the door. I had to meet two fellows outside, after all.

But that moving thingy rammed right into this professor, and knocked me clean off my feet, like a potato that’s slipped down a peeler’s sharp blade and into the moist sink. (Yes, ‘moist’ is a disgusting word, I fear. I’ve outlawed it, the sudden.)

I went tumbling and landed on my back. The moving thingy–which was a human–was straddling me.

The boom-boom was knocked from my hands.

The human, who was dressed very similar to me–so I couldn’t see the face–began to try to choke the poor, dull professor out.

Now, the professor has jitsed in his day, and–

bjj-program

–it’s very easy to discern between the sexes, you know. It becomes readily apparent for a few different reasons.

The professor could tell that the human was, in fact, a girl.

#timetowar&riot

I pulled her close, executed a flip (I was on top now, see) and pulled a knife from my boot.

She grunted as she hit the floor.

Not too much like this, tho...

Not too much like this, tho…

And that’s when the professor felt a muzzle press against his head.

No, it wasn’t the pooch kinda of muzzle either.

“Well, well,” a voice rang out.

The professor was hauled to his feet, off the girl, who stood. She was #cranky.

I was surrounded by at least ten men, all armed to the teeth–and even eyes. The lodge had cleared out. All the vacationers were gone. Quite gone.

A fellow with a gray goatee was standing close by.

“I knew the assassination attempt was coming. I just didn’t think the assassin would walk through the lodge and announce himself like an idiot. This was too easy.”

Then, to his men: “Take off his mask!”

Holiday Cut Short

The beating of your heart reminds you you only have so long to beat.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledI woke up somewhat tired and somewhat sleepy.

Isn’t that an annoying thing?

It always annoys this professor.

I mean, why can’t I wake up somewhat not-tired and somewhat not-sleepy?

The land is against us, I fear.

Anyways and some, it was a cold day where the professor currently was messing about in the Punchy Lands.

Very much so like this.

This is where I was. Sorta looked like this. Look–a bird! I think it’s a Cardinal. Must be Catholic. #badjoke

I was at a ski resort, see. In truth, this is true: the lodge looked like a bunch of tinker toys.

The professor was spending the holiday at the resort, and it was a definite interest.

You see, that’s because the professor can’t ski.

Well, I’ve never skied before, I suppose.

I just like to go to ski resorts just to hang out and think about skiing. One of my fav pastimes, you know. #mostlytrue

Anyways, the professor had just woken up. I wrapped myself in a red Pats hoodie…

Like this.

Like this.

…and left my room to explore.

The lodge was pretty busy downstairs, and it wasn’t long until this professor ran into Daddy Salami and his son, Ruber. (I’ve known Salami and Ruber for a bit now. Always up to no good. I think they live in England. And I think Salami used to be a knight.)

They were sitting at a table, finishing breakfast.

Of course, this professor being the adventurer he is, joined them quicker than a tadpole popping out of a…

…well, you know what I mean.

“Gentlemen,” I said.

Salami’s green eyes flashed. “We ain’t, gentlemen, ya turtle. Now sit down. I have sumtin’ important ta tell ya.”

Was he expecting me? Nah…

Ruber chuckled as ripped two pieces of bacon up and plopped the pieces into his coffee. And, yes, he did drink the whole thing. In one gulp. #impressive

“What is it, not-gentlemen?”

“Shut-up!” Salami snapped. “And be quiet. It’s a secret.”

Then he leaned close: “We were one man down on our mission, but then ya showed up, and yure gonna help us.”

“Or we’ll pluck yo eyes out,” Ruber added, in his English accent.

“Come on,” Salami said.

They both stood.

“What are we…?” I ventured.

“Knocking somebody off,” Ruber said. “Get your skis.”

“Count Mastroid has ta die,” Salami added.

“He’ll be on the slopes soon,” Ruber said. “We’ll get him then.”

Salami laughed, obviously excited. “See ya in front of da lodge in twenty minutes, cur-face, or I’ll cut yure face out and use it as a wall decoration.”

A mission on the slopes sounded fun. But knocking someone off? Warriors don’t do that sort of thing.

Plus, the professor can’t ski…

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