Archive Page 2

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…

PL Symbol

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Why Things End Abruptly

It is with great dread that I regret to inform you of a thing.

The Sweet Cherry Incident, I fear, probably won’t have an end.

You see, the rest of the story sorta goes Top Secret, and I’ve been forbidden–by General Smallhoover– to recount anymore of it.

Therefore, therefore.

In other words, this professor should probably comply with the generals demands–if I want to keep my ears.

I can tell you, though, that I lived, and that the sweet cherries turned out to be a deadly poison, designed on Honi Planet, and designed to wipe out the Punchy Lands.

(Honi Planet has hated The Punchy Lands for some time.)

The good news is: the plan failed. #professorwins

Because of the professor, of course. #professorisabeast

Anyways and some, TPL should be back online somewhat this following week. With a new story.

Until then–I loves you all muches!

Extra points if you can name this beast:

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Important Things

So, yes, it’s Christmas this week.

Like in two days.

Maybe it was nine. I really can’t recall. (Don’t laugh. When you get my age, this sort of thing starts to happen. That’s what I’ve been told, though. How age affects the mind is still a mystery. But it does.)

Now, here’s the thing:

I’ve decided to announce a few things of importance.

First off, the Patriots won the AFC East. Again.

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Steelers deflate balls, too.

Second, it’s the season of the Krampus.

krampus

This excites me lots and lots.

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They say the best way to get the Krampus to pay a visit is to insult his brother, Santa Claus.

This doesn’t work.

I’ve tried.

Thirdly, and lastly…

…well, I did have something, but I forget what it was.

I’m old, remember.

Oh I remember!

Merry Christmas, everyone! Make sure to eat a few cookies for me.

Each.

The Professor Returns

Many hi’s to you all! (I’m thinking if that should be “hies”, since it looks better. But that reminds me of pies, and we can’t have pies, so let’s forget about this whole thingy.)

How’ve you all been?! I want details. But not too many. Maybe one or one and a half.

You’ll all be excited and dismayed to know that I’m back. The professor has many awful plans, of course. Plans that I’ve not really spoken about too much yet. Or thought about.

Maybe we shouldn’t even call them plans, actually-ish.

I’ll be getting TPL back online in just a bit…a few days, maybe.

In interesting professor news…I actually taught a class on this book! Well, a chapter from this book.

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And I learned two important things, of course. (I’m always learning things, you know, you know… This goes to show you even old people can learn things.) 

One, I learned how to spell feminist. Yes, I happen to be the worst speller ever. No judging. Or I might get a complex.

And, two, I learned that this professor can counter-lecture other professors quite effectively. It was an interesting debate.

That’s all.

I shall be around with more useless news, of course.

Since it’s around Christmastime, Merry Dadblameits to you all.

The professor Fights

“Look here,” I said, and I must admit my frustration was growing lots and lots, “I’d like to rent this book.”

“Can’t,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because this particular book only has the buy option.”

This professor was standing in a bookstore on a college campus. Let me tell you now–like right now–college books are very expensive. And renting college books is expensive.

Just a little less expensive.

So, I tried from a different angle.

“Check this out, the sudden,” I said, “this book is called ‘The Life, Death & In-Between Space of Dr. Lewis Dayton Clark.'”

“So?” And she pursed her purple lips together (I don’t think they were natural, mind) and put her hands on her hips.

“So,” I concluded, “it follows that no one wants to buy a book about the in-between space of Dr. Lewis Dayton Clark. Therefore, it must be available only to rent.”

There were a few chaps that started to laugh behind me.

The girl pointed a finger in my direction. “You have an attitude. I’m getting the manager.”

And she flounced off.

I left, of course. With the book.

But I ran into the manager and the girl outside.

The manager chap, I must say, was a bit puffy and fat. He was eating something. Must’ve been interrupted. He was cranky, too. Red cheeks, see.

“YOU!” he bellowed. “You’re not allowed to rent that book!”

And he tried to snatch it from my hands.

But this professor being quicker than a snake swimming around in an ice pond, snatched it away before he could gain possession of it.

Check it out! Snake on an ice pond. See, kids, I DO NOT make this stuff up.

Check it out! Snake on an ice pond. See, kids, I DO NOT make this stuff up.

“Look here,” I said, “look here right now, you puffy, ignorant Yucketh!”

That took him–and her–aback.

“I happen to be a professor. The professor. I told my students they could rent this book. And you…YOU! You dare?! I shall turn you both in to the Union at once.”

So, that’s when everything went downhill.

They didn’t exactly buy my story and I didn’t exactly buy the book.

#Won/Lost

Introducing my new spirit animal!

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TPL Schedule

Sunday: OFF — Day of Shalt Nots

Monday: TPL Story

Tuesday: OFF — Because I'm Gone

Wednesday: Professor Speaks

Thursday: OFF — Because Yes

Friday: OFF — All Day Sleep Does

Saturday: OFF — Blue-Footed Boobies Need Fed

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Punchy Argot:

1. Dadblameit.
2. Humdinger
3. Chickit
4. Chicky-woot-woot
5. Malediction
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15. Huff-Hum and a Roar
16. So many thanks, I can't begin to thank you
17. Ri-do-diculous


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