Posts Tagged 'Daddy Salami'

Sweet Sue Busts Us Out

Big ups and thanks to Susan Price for brainstorming with me on this one. In TPL, she’s Sweet Sue. Yo.

If you feel vicious, take it out on the weeds.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, there we were.

Sitting in a dark, dank prison. And it was full of lice, ticks, spiders, worms, and the scurvy.

Anyways, it was quite a meeting. Sort of.

We were all sitting in a circle: Schwarz Tauptinker, Bud Parker, Clara Higgins, Gertrude Tauptinker, and of course, this naughty, naughty professor.

None of these dispirited ones were talking either.

“So,” this professor said, breaking the silence. “We’re all going to die, that’s an interest.”

“Shut-up!” Clara snapped.

Schwarz piped up to announce: “I’m not going to die, tell you what, chickit. I’m busting out! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah sure, bud,” Parker said. “Like that’s going to happen. We’re like heavily guarded.”

Gertrude started to cry.

“Stop it, man!” Schwarz yelled at Parker. “Look what you’re doing to my sister, dude! Just stop, man.”

Silence again.

It was also very dark in the cell.


The door was shut, tho.

Presently, a quiet sound that grew louder filled the room.

“And this,” said a narrating voice, “is where we keep the worst of the criminals.”

It was a group of people. A tour.

See, every so oftens, tours come through Prince Beef’s palace.

What a thing.

I felt like a bear in a zoo.


The professor.

The group stopped in front of our cell.

“Look at them,” the tour guide said. “The worst of the worst.”

I must admit, Clara did look pretty bad, but I thought I was rather spiffy looking, still.

Of course, this professor scanned the group…and that’s when I spotted someone who I didn’t expect to see.

Sweet Sue. There she was, mingling in the crowd.

But she had many other different names, really. See, Sweet Sue is an epic spy, always going about the land doing secret missions of the upmost importance.

There was no way, of course, that she was just here for a tour. Besides, this professor and Sweet Sue are great friends. I looked at her.

She looked at me and I saw she had a basket with something orange and white moving in it.

Then I knew that she knew: She was going to bust us out.

The group left and this professor stood.

“Well, well, welly,” I said. “Dadblame all the ticks in here, we’re getting out.”

“I knew it would happen if I was patient,” Schwarz answered, standing.

Parker shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up, bud.”

“Just shut-up, all of you,” Clara said. “We’re not getting out, we’re going to die.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked Prince Beef.”


“Please what?”

“Please stop.”

“If you insist,” I said.

“I do.”


Footsteps again. And light.

It was Sweet Sue with her moving basket.

“I’ll get you all out of here,” she said. “But just because the professor and I are friends.”

There were some exclamations of surprise amongst the group.

“You’re friends with PVJ?” Parker asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “We’ve done missions together before.”

“Secret, secret missions,” I said. “I’m an inhuman spy.”

“Knew that,” Clara mumbled.

“They were wonderfully great missions,” she said.

Then Sweet Sue had the door open very fastly fast. How she did it, I’ll never know. But she’s like that: Quick as a sleeping chap winking. Which is very fast, since sleeping chaps never wink.

In an instant and some, we were all out and following her down the hallway.

“Do you know the way out of here?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” she said.

And that’s when we ran into a guard. At the same moment, something white and orange jumped out of the wobbly basket and distracted the guard with his claws before the guard could say cat.


But that’s all he got out.

In another twinkle (sleeping wink), Sue had him on the ground and out of the game.

“Why are you here?” I whispered as we left the palace.

“I’m working freelance for Mr. Magi…”

Oh dear.

PL Symbol


Decision Time

Stealing is an art. Before you steal, make sure it’s profitable. 

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledClara Higgins stared at me.

And this professor stared right back.

We were both shocked a bit.

And when you’re shocked a bit, you stare.

That’s some sort of unofficial rule, I think.

Rule: When shocked, you stare.

Anyways and a few, a gem dropped from the fake katana in my hands and hit the floor with a clunk.


Clara opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, and that’s when the floodgates sorta erupted:

“You’re back you can help me glad you got the sword with that we can make sure that idiot prince lets me go I’ve been a prisoner here since you escaped and I don’t have a clue what I should do I’ve tried to escape but I can never get far enough are you going to give the sword back to Prince Beef I hope where have you been?”

That stumped me for a good long while. But this professor is a vicious bear and I recovered rather quickly.

No, this is not me.

No, this is not me.

Aha! Here I am. Just out for a stroll and roaring about the place.

Aha! Here I am. Just out for a stroll and roaring about the place.

“Now look here,” I began, “last time I saw you, you pretended to cry, sob, and otherwise leak a bit from the eyes, convincing Prince Beef that I was bad and you were good. Since then, this professor has been captured, shot, chased, attacked–never defeated, mind–and otherwise running about. Not very sure how I ended up back in this dadblame place, but if I have one thing to tell you it’s pretty much nothing.”

And that was that.

Clara’s eyes squinted and her hands found her hips as she looked away.

“Fine,” she snapped. “If you don’t want to help, fine. Just go.” 

And she marched away.

Now, the professor was close to the kitchens. I could tell ’cause it was noisy and smelly. (That means you’re close to the kitchens, see.)

And it was now time for decisions.

This professor walked a bit, found a little chair, and had a seat.

Things were complicated and the best thing to do when things are complicated is to sit and have thinks. Many thinks, in fact.

This was sorta the place.

This was sorta the place.

Now, here was the roll:

Prince Beef was marrying Schwarz Tauptinker’s sister, Gertrude. He wanted to fashion the engagement ring from the Diamond of Drake. But he didn’t have the Diamond of Drake. So, he hired Fats Henry to thieve it for him. For his service, Henry would be gifted the Jeweled Katana.

But that’s when this professor messed things up. I stole it. Just to stop more thieving, of course. It was just–I think. Bud Parker and Schwarz Tauptinker were also going for the katana. Other people were, too. It was a mess.

Now, this professor was holding the fake katana. What should be done?

It should be returned to Prince Beef. After all, it wasn’t real; he would think it was. We would be at peace after I gave it over, and I could wash my hands of the whole affair.

Here’s the moral of the tale, as this professor sees it so far: Never thieve something to be just and righteous. It’s not worth it. In the end, you’ll end up being unjust and unrighteous.

I nodded and stood.

“Time to return this,” I said aloud. (Just for story purposes, of course.)

“I don’t think so, bud.”

“Yeah, chickit. No, no.”

It was Bud Parker and Schwarz Tauptinker.

PL Symbol

Claiming the Katana

Birds of a feather don’t flock together because birds of a feather tend to be jealous of that feather.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

Untitled“Hehaha!” Salami laughed triumphantly.

And he jumped up on a stool for added height. Daddy Salami isn’t too tall, you know. And the stool didn’t add too much to his height. It was a 3-inch stool, if that.

Salami scowled and became decidedly more cranky.

The stool had betrayed him, see.

“Ya cur-belly!” he shouted from his perch. “Ya think ya won? Ya just lost!” And then he belted forth in a strained voice: “Ya just lost evvvvvvvvvverything!

The professor really wished he hadn’t said that. After all, we were the ones that lost. Well, sorta. Must always keep in the warrior frame of mind, see.

Warrior Frame of Mind:

How are we? Solid.

Chance of success? 100%.

What to fear? Nothing.

I am the reaper.

See. Double-see. And a triple-see, just to make sure you saw.

King Arthur shook his head.

“You think you won?” he asked. “Yeah, no. Not even close.”

Arthur strode further into the room, his regal cape flapping in the breeze behind him.

There was no breeze since we were in a castle. But any time a cape is described in writing, there’s always a breeze, I find. So, I added one for kicks, giggles, and whatnot.

Arthur stopped inches from Ruber Salami.

The ant had met the bear. That was the size difference anyway.

See what I mean? You can't even see the ant.

See what I mean? You can’t even see the ant.

“I’ll enjoy seeing you suffer,” Arthur said.

“Me?” Ruber asked, aghast. “It was his plan.” Ruber stuck a thumb out in Salami’s direction. “Why come and pick on me? And, look, there’s PVJ, too!”

“Ruber,” I said, “don’t bring me up. I’d rather not be brought up; I’d rather not be here; I’d rather just not be–at this special moment.”

Arthur looked at me with a scowl and shook his head.

Then to his soldiers: “Off to the dungeons with them.”

“Didn’t ya hear me?” Salami screamed, frantic from his perch. “I’ve won, cur-face!”

Arthur spun. “Really? You think that by saying that you’re going to win?” He sighed.

And that’s when it happened: Salami propelled himself from his perch, towards the katana. He scooped it up and tossed it to his son. Ruber grabbed it but was immediately torpedo-ed (new word) by Arthur. The katana hit the ground.

This professor scooped it up; the soldiers charged in, and the battle begin.

I traded thrust for thrust, slash for slash. Their broadswords and this professor’s katana lit up the night sky.

Figuratively speaking.

Like this.

Like this.

Ruber and Salami were also fighting.

Somehow this professor ended up fighting Arthur. The king was holding a katana–it looked exactly like the Jeweled Katana, in fact, save for one significant characteristic: It was way smaller, to fit a person of Arthur’s size.

But still.

Why make a copy of the sword?

We traded blows.


Arthur’s katana split in half.

He stepped back, and this professor made towards the exit.

Like an giant anteater running from a jaguar.

Only I don't have a tail like that.

Only I don’t have a tail like that.

PL Symbol

Sneaking Into the Castle

Love conquers fear because love is to be more feared than fear.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

Untitled“Ow!” Ruber hissed. “Come on, eh? Watch it!”

“Quiet, Ruber, ya dirty cur-mark on me belly!” Salami snapped. “If we get discovered, I’ll take yer nose off with me pliers!”

In truth, this is true, both Salami and Ruber were making more noise than two toads singing for their long-lost loves. (That’s a lot of noise, you must know.)

“I think we should try to be quieter overall,” I mentioned, just to be nice.

“Shut-up, cur-mouth!” Salami almost hollered.

Now, here’s the thing: King Arthur’s castle is up on a hill, surrounded by a rather large village, which is surrounded by a wall. The gates to that wall are closed at night. And since it was night (almost morning, I fear) the gates were shut–tighter than a rope stretched between two stiff trees.

See how tight ropes between trees are?

Very tight, see. But wobbly trees.

So, since the gates were closed–and heavily guarded, mind–we were climbing up the outside wall.

See, it was messed up enough, with holes there and holes everywhere, that we could sorta get some footholds and whatnot.

Ruber was leading the way, followed by Salami, who was followed by this professor.

Salami kept hurrying Ruber along from below, sometimes even pinching him, I think.

“Stop pinching!” Ruber yelled.

He yelled it, too. Rats and a Heifer! #Doomed

“Our cover’s been blown!” Salami shouted. “Everybody hurry!”

And quicker than wet noodles from the boiling pot, we got over the wall. Now, it turns out, the sentry on this side of the wall was dead asleep.

Which means he might’ve been dead if I didn’t think he was sleeping, see.

We passed him quietly and climbed to the ground. We were in the village. The castle was northeast of our position on an acropolis. (That’s my war talk, don’t you know.)

Now, wonders of wonders, there was no party of guards waiting for us at the bottom of the wall. We were still undiscovered.

This was goody.

About a tick or two later (probably more), we made it to the palace.

“It’s gonna be guarded strong,” Salami wheezed. (Out of shape, see.)

But it wasn’t.

The castle’s drawbridge was lowered, the doors wide opened.

We cautiously entered the castle, every sense on red alert.

Red Alert.

Red Alert.

Salami knew the castle well. It’s said he used to be a knight of the round table. I doubt that story, though I’ve got no reason for doubting. I just like to doubt, see.

He led us through the winding passages, long hallways, and lofty rooms.

Eventually, we entered into a room with a vaulted ceiling. There, lying on a purple cloth on a table…was the Jeweled Katana.

“Haha!” Salami laughed triumphantly. “I knew he’d have it here! Cur-Arthur.”


Then I noticed it. The sword had been reforged! It was no longer in two pieces, but whole.

I would’ve danced at that moment. But there was no music and we were on a secret spy mission, remember.

“Well, let’s get it and get out of here!” Ruber said, moving forward, his leather boots clicking on the floor.

Not clicking, but creating some sort of sound that’s rather indescribable.

Goodness. Problem. How was I going to get the katana from these two?

But I was saved.

The room lit up. Soldiers ran in.

Followed by King Arthur.

“I thought you might’ve tried this, PVJ, but not with them!”

Maybe not that saved.

PL Symbol

A Team To Thieve

No pain, no gain. Unless you’re eating loads of ice cream. Then there’s lots of gain and no pain.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledNow, here’s the thing: When you’re being followed, don’t get too jumpy. Or cranky.

That’s the key.

You just have to be like, “Yo, hey, yep-yep.” (That’s just an example of something to say. I really probably wouldn’t say that, notice.)

Anyways and sums, this professor was being followed.

Being followed.

Being followed.

And that’s why the professor did what everyone should do when being followed.

I spun around, hands on hips, and waited for them.

They were shocked–there were two of them, see. I could tell by how they stopped abruptly before starting back up again.

Spinning always throws the opposition off. That's why Jedi and Sith do it.

Spinning always throws the opposition off. That’s why Jedi and Sith do it.

Eventually, they stopped within two feet of me.

That was close; the professor was feeling claustrophobic, the sudden.

And I knew who it was: Daddy Salami and his son, Ruber.

“Hey,” Salami said. “We heard ya escaped Fat Man Island. And me boss wants ya back, turtle-cur!”

“Yeah,” Ruber put in. “Who do you think you are trying to escape, huh?”

“Not trying,” I noted. “I did escape. But what happened to Parker and Schwarz?”

“Oh them,” Ruber said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They got away. But who cares, eh?”

Salami turned and looked at Ruber. “Cur!” he said, with a hit to his shoulder. “We care!”

Ruber just chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Whatevah.”

“So what do you two chaps want?” I asked.

“You know what,” Salami said, his green eyes flashing. “We want the katana ya stole, cur-face.”

Aha! This was working superbly. A plan was brewing in my professorish mind, see. It was a great plan, double-see. It was a plan to get the katana back, triple-see.

“I don’t have it,” I answered.

“What?!” Salami’s mouth fell open like a trout dropping from a waterfall.

There's a trout in there somewhere, I'm sure of it. If you look closely.

There’s a trout in there somewhere, I’m sure of it. If you look closely.

“Can you believe this guy?” Ruber said.

It was more of a statement. I don’t think he really cared about the whole thing. My guess, Fats Henry hired Daddy Salami as a henchman. Salami brought Ruber aboard for extra help. That was my professorish guess, see.

“Well, where is it?” Salami asked in a low, raspy voice. “Give it here, cur!”

“Here’s the thing, King Arthur has it.”

“Hehaha,” Salami laughed. “Arty…does he, does he? We’re gonna steal it from him. And you’re gonna help!”

“When are we going to do this?” Ruber asked. “I’m sorta famished at the moment.”

“Tonight,” Salami replied.

It was mission time.

PL Symbol

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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Professorish Smiley:




Depends on the day, see.

Punchy Argot:

1. Dadblameit.
2. Humdinger
3. Chickit
4. Chicky-woot-woot
5. Malediction
6. Rapscallion
7. Gardoobled
8. Congratulilolations
9. Togoggin
10. Gargonic
11. Two and Five Gurgles
12. Rats and a Heifer
13. Two nods, a wink, and an astroid
14. A bit, bits, and little bits
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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