Posts Tagged 'Manly-Man'

Almost Crushed

Our greatest triumphs usually take place during our weakest moments.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, I’d been tranquilized slightly.

I say slightly ’cause this professor could feel everything but my legs and feet. Some feeling was coming back, though. But I was selfish, and wanted it all back.

The whole thing was demeaning, you know.

Anyways and some, Manly-Man and Daddy Salami had rescued me from the back of a van. (Remember, we’re stranded on Honi Planet, capital of the Honi Galaxy. That’s a no brainer, gee.)

Anyways and sums (I had to change it this time, see) Manly-Man and Daddy Salami were carrying me between them, down the busy city streets, dodging people here, there, and even some vehicles.

I swear I was almost crushed at a few points.

And this professor hardly swears when in trouble. Dadblameit.

We stopped in an alleyway.

alleyway__stock__by_adin_jenks

“I need me a breather, curs,” Salami said, huffing and puffing.

“Okay,” Manly-Man said. “I could keep going, though, ’cause I’s so fancy.”

Salami looked at him. “Shut-up.”

“Look here, fellows,” I broke in, “can someone tell me what’s going on? Why was my intergalactic flight shot down?”

“I’ll tell yer why,” Salami wheezed. “You stole this”–he held up my can of cherries–“and the Honi government wants it back!”

“Give me my cherries, the sudden,” I said. And I said ‘the sudden’ part quickly, ’cause I hoped he’d give them fastly fast.

He didn’t.

“That’s why’s we’s leavin’, dude,” Manly-Man said. “I’s going to rocket outta here. Does you wanna come?”

No, of course not, I said, I must stay here and figure out things. I’m an epic spy slash super villain, after all. I shall get to the bottom of this! 

That’s what I thought would be cool to say.

What I actually said: “You got it, get me outta here.”

Let’s be real: I couldn’t feel my legs and I was in a foreign city. What was I going to actually figure out? Nothing, I tell you. Adventure had to wait.

I was like this dog: couldn't feel my legs.

I was like this dog: couldn’t feel my legs.

But that’s when things went south.

Salami went to throw my cherries onto the busy street…

…and I hollered…

…and I let out after them…

(Which, by the way, is a wonder, since I couldn’t feel my legs. Have I mentioned that yet? But I was able to propel myself.)

I fell right into the busy street.

A car stopped right in front of me.

Its breaks squealed.

I missed death by this much…

Ladies and gentlemen and Walt, that is my spirit animal.

Ladies and gentlemen and Walt, that is my spirit animal.

Now, I just laid there. And played dead. Maybe they’d go away. After all, I had the cherries.

Safe and sound.

The car doors opened.

And a VERY tall woman got out. She was in high heels, too, so she was epically tall.

A guy her same height got out of the passenger side.

He had blonde curls floating about his head. Like worms.

Something like this. This is actually a mossy slug, or something like that..

Something like this. This is actually a mossy slug, or something like that..

“Oh, look,” the woman said, in some sort of scary accent, “we almost crushed his life out.”

That was a thing. Thanks for not doing that.

I said nothing, though. Still playing dead.

869701-Dog-playing-dead-1

She turned towards the fellow and hissed:

“Put him in the back. Quick.”

I was in trouble.

A glance about told me Manly-Man and Salami had deserted me.

I was in trouble.

But the cherries were nestled safely under my arm.

PL Symbol

Rescued (Somewhat)

Silence is only agreement if you agree to be silent.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, yes, here it is in a nut:

I was tranquilized and carried away by Honi security guards.

Yes, it’s awful. Yes, it could get worst. No, there was nothing I could do about it.

And then I was escorted roughly from the building and thrown into the back of a van.

Sorta like this. Only no free candy. Let that be a lesson to you: Kidnappers never give out free candy.

Sorta like this. Only no free candy. Let that be a lesson to you: Kidnappers never give out free candy.

Two of the guards sat with me.

I looked at them each, in turn.

They both looked away.

I looked again.

“Hey,” I said.

“We can’t talk with you,” one answered shortly.

“You’re in big trouble,” the other said. “Just wait till we get you to the capital.”

“Quiet!” his partner yelled at him.

The professor was undaunted, of course. “How come and why so? Why am I in trouble?”

“Because you had this,” and the one guard held up my jar of cherries.

MY cherries. The brute. The beast. The inhuman dirt-face!

But I remained calm.

Because that’s what real professors do.

The sudden, the van stopped.

There was some sort of commotion up front, then we lurched forward again.

“When do you fellows suppose I’ll be able to feel my feet again?” I asked.

A just question.

After all, tranquilizers can’t last forever, can they?

I felt like this monkey, only I wasn’t eating:

stock-up

I was cranky like him, see.

Dadblameit.

Then, the van stopped.

We waited.

5 minutes passed.

The one guard looked at the other guard.

“Hank,” he said. “What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know.”

Sounded nervous.

I began to whistle.

“Shut-it!” Hank said.

5 more minutes passed.

I began to feel my feet.

Oh goody.

200_s

“That’s it,” Hank said, and he threw the doors open.

Daddy Salami was standing there.

His orange hair was a mess, and his green eyes were bright.

#Trouble

“What the–!”

A fight ensued.

Salami won.

It was bloody. There were screams.

“The turtle curs,” he said. “Hahaha.”

That’s when Manly-Man peeked into the van.

“Hey, honey.”

“Well,” I said. “About time I was rescued.”

“Strange things are afoot,” Salami said. “And it has to do with yer cherries.”

“How’d you know?” I was surprised, after all.

Salami’s mouth dropped into a frown.

“He told me.”

A thumb in Manly-Man’s direction.

Manly-Man tilted his head and gave me a tight-lipped smile.

Then he said: “It’s deeper than you know, dude.”

PL Symbol

In Trouble

A lie is a clever way to tell the truth—subjectively.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledHoni Planet.

Where do I start?

Isn’t that awful? When people say that?

They get to these epically great places that need a description and all they say is, “Where do I start?”

See, that’s just so they don’t have to explain or describe anything. Lazy, I tell you.

Then again, I’m feeling that way right now.

But I’ll fight it (since I’m such a warrior) and explain, because I’m a goodly professor.

Okay, so the planet was something. It’s basically one big city. Everywhere. Tall buildings here, short little squat buildings there; pushcarts selling everything imaginable (except beetles) lined the busy streets; there were fancy restaurants, and restaurants only fit for beetles; and every sort of store imaginable; there were also bikes, motorcycles, cars, and all sorts of different transportation devices.

It stank a bit. And it wasn’t too dirty. #ProfessorAppraisal 

In fact, it looked a bit like this–

01nyskyline1536

–had mated with this:

Senate_District_ROTS

Anyways, the streets seemed treacherous to navigate, but all the passengers were driven away from the sorta-crash in authority vehicles. It was stuffy in the authority vehicles; it stank in the authority vehicles–never ride in authority vehicles.

Now, once we got to where we were going (after about a thousand years), we were all abused and pushed around. They even took my pack.

I ended up in an ugly, plain room, sitting at an ugly, plain desk.

With Manly-Man.

This was it. Blah, right?

This was it. Blah, right?

Was hoping these would show up.

Was hoping these two would show up.

“Hey, dude,” Manly-Man said.

He was going to say something else, but I interrupted.

“I just want to say, what you did back there, landing the ship and all…good stuff. Well done. You have my approval.”

Manly-Man smiled a tight-lipped smile and craned his head one way. Almost treating me like a little kid. Like it didn’t matter he’d gotten my approval.

Rats and a Heifer.

“So, what happened? I was sleeping, see.”

“I doesn’t know. Someone fired a missile at us.”

That’s when the door opened and a respectable looking chap entered. He looked pregnant the way his belly bulged around, but rest assured, I know he wasn’t. He had a gray mustache  and he was balding. He was dressed in the Honi Empire’s colors: Yellow. Just yellow.

I think he was a sheriff.

He sat down across from us.

“Okay,” he began, but I cut him off.

See, I was cranky. After all, being taken into custody right after surviving a near fatal crash was wrong. Especially since they told us nothing. Not much of a kind reception. (Goes to show you how much the Honi Empire dislikes people from TPL.)

“Look here,” I said, but then he interrupted me.

“Don’t you DARE talk over me,” he said, wagging a finger in my general direction. “I give the order–“

But I cut him off.

“Double look here, you beast,” I said, “I’m the professor–“

He took over here, with a vicious slam to the table.

“If I have to tell you one more time–“

Manly-Man broke in.

“Quiet both of you. I’s leaving. I’s done playin’ games with you. I’s gettin’ cranky.”

And he stood.

That’s when the that chap put my can of sweet cherries on the table.

They’d searched my pack. The blackhearts.

I was even crankier then.

“You’re going nowhere,” he said. “We found this can of cherries in this one’s pack”–a thumb in my general direction here–“and you were the pilot. How’d you get that can? Did you run into Starling on the flight? What’d she tell you?”

Then, quicker than a lightning bolt, I grasped the cherries.

Yes, my bolts are blue.

Yes, my bolts are blue.

“Mine,” I said, like a caveman.

Not the professor.

Not the professor.

He stood.

“If you don’t answer my questions, you’ll end up just like Starling!”

Was that the lady with the briefcase?

Then everything happened too quickly.

The fellow pulled some sort of evil looking instrument from his belt and Manly-Man took him out–with one blow.

Dadblameit!

And then, Manly-Man said, as if to explain his actions: “I’s said I was getting cranky.”

Of course, that explained everything perfectly.

“Time to go,” I said.

PL Symbol

Crashing Safely is Key

They say you fear what you don’t know. It’s true: I’ve always feared history class.

 V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, here’s the thing: There’s a first time for everything.

Which is kinda true. See, there’s a first time for everything, individualistically speaking, mind you.

For instance, the professor was on an intergalactic flight that was going down.

First time for me.

But I’m sure it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

7241312_star-wars-the-force-awakens-crushes-jurassic_2fb93552_m

(Real really quick: the professor actually search for “intergalactic flights wrecking” and the above picture is all I got. Possibly, then, this intergalactic flight going down was a first all around.)

#FeelingSpecial

Anyways and some, Flight #10 was going down.

And I was on it.

That was a dadblame problem.

The Briefcase Lady was gone.

And the briefcase was still there.

That was another dadblame problem.

dadblameit

See, she told me to take the briefcase if something happened.

Now, that’s really quite a thing. See, sounds like some sort of super-epic spy plot. And, of course, the professor wanted no part of it. (I’m boring, remember.)

So, I did the only thing that should be done:

I searched the briefcase quick as a non-wink–since not winking is faster than winking, you know–found nothing but a jar of sweet cherries, and thieved them right away.

Unknown

It was a Score 1 for the professor. I love cherries. At least, I had something to eat before I died. Yo.

And I was about to start on those cherries, when Manly-Man’s voice blared through the speakers:

“Hey, we’s going to make a crash landing. Please hold on.”

And hold on, I did.

Now, the remarkable thing is this: Flight #10 did crash, but it wasn’t fatal. Points to Manly-Man on that one.

When we did sorta touchdown on Honi Planet, there were lots of celebrations (even some dancing) from the passengers.

gronkdance_medium

Touchdown dance

The professor didn’t dance, mind you.

So, once the flight was landed and everything, all the passengers were taken into custody by the Honi Police to answer some “questions”.

Go figure.

See, here’s the thing: Apparently, you’re a villain if you survive an almost disaster.

I put the sweet cherries in my pack–for later.

Still, points to Manly-Man on saving the day, see.

PL Symbol

Honi Planet

The more folly you have, the more wise you can possibly become. 

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledThe door opened (with a ding, mind) and the mass of humanity moved forward.

Now, here’s the thing: It was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. The path we were supposed to follow, however, was lit up by blue lights.

That was convenient, I must say. After all, without those lights, I probably would have tripped or fallen a few hundred times.

So good of them to include those.

I must’ve stopped for a minute or two, ’cause the lady behind me (you know, the one with the huge briefcase) gave me a friendly tap.

“Keep moving!” she said, quietly.

And I did, of course.

Okay, so I’ll be honest with you: The launch chairs surprised the grubs out of my ears.

Really.

Grubs almost look like noodles.

Grubs almost look like noodles.

The launch chairs were in rows. And there was a sort of canopy above each row. What a thing.

When the line stopped moving, I was in front of a chair.

And the professor did what the professor knew he had to do.

I stowed my pack in the basket below the seat, and sat down. (The seat was sorta web-y. That’s how it felt, at least. Like outdoor furniture, see.)

And I buckled in, too, because. Just because.

The lady with the huge briefcase barely got that mammoth stowed under her seat, but she managed it.

A veteran of the huge briefcase, truly.

Then she took her seat. Within minutes, everyone was seated.

That’s when the voice came back, because we’d all missed it:

Intergalactic Flight 10 is about to Launch. Green light.

And that’s when the rows left the ground, leaving my feet to dangle helplessly in the dark air, like a bunch of butterflies caught in a net.

nabokov1

This chap has been at the art of butterfly catching for years, see.

And we were moving, through the blackness.

I turned to the lady next to me.

“Where are we going?”

She leaned close and whispered: “We’re being carried to our launch ship.”

And she was right. We entered into some sort of rocket looking thingy (tough to see ’cause of the light, mind). Each row was above another row. And yes, the feet were still dangling.

Sorta like this:

be15987ed30907196bb583d91ef17ae2

Then there was a hiss and shout as the rocket closed us in.

Trapped, we were.

Dark, it was.

That’s when there was a loud boom, and we sorta blasted off at that point, I bet.

It was sorta enjoyable.

After a bit, lights came on, and a voice came over the loudspeakers:

“Hey, honeys, this is Manly-Man and I’s your Captain for the flight. We should be landing on Honi Planet in a little bit. Okay. Bye.”

Great. What could possibly go wrong with him as the pilot?

I decided to forget about it. See, I wiped the whole thing from my memory system. Done.

Honi Planet. Capital of the Honi Galaxy.

The thing was, The Punchy Lands was usually left alone by the Honi Empire. Even though, TPL was technically part of the empire, and therefore subject to them, it certainly didn’t seem that way.

That’s when the professor was tapped on the arm.

“Hey,” the lady with the huge briefcase said. “I know this is strange…but if anything happens to me…and you’re around…make sure my briefcase doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Who has the wrong hands?” 

A just question, I thought.

But she turned away. Wouldn’t answer.

I got out Shakespeare, then.

MTE1ODA0OTcxNzgzMzkwNzMz

And it must’ve worked, ’cause the next thing I remember was a bunch of screaming, and alarms blaring, and Manly-Man’s voice breaking up over the line:

“We’s been hit, honeybuttses. H—o–l–d…”

I looked next to me.

The lady with the huge briefcase was gone.

But her briefcase wasn’t.

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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Punchy Argot:

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