Posts Tagged 'Punchy Story'

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.


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–


–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.


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!”


Mr. Magi and Schwarz: Tea is Not Nice

“Do you like tea, Schwarz?” Mr. Magi asked as he poured two cups and sat one in front of Schwarz.

“Yes, okay, maybe not,” Schwarz Tauptinker answered.

Mr. Magi raised one eyebrow quizzically. “Answer the question with a straightforward answer, young man. Don’t get in the bad habit of saying all the possible answers at once. How can anyone tell anything at that point?”

Schwarz laughed. “What I meant to say is that tea is not nice, chickit.” Then Schwarz drained the whole cup.

“You’ll burn your throat out!” Mr. Magi cautioned, but it was too late.

“Nah. I can take it—tell you what.”

And Mr. Magi seemed surprised that Schwarz could indeed drink a whole cup of very hot tea all at once without any ill side-effects. (It might be a power that the professor is working on.)

“So, tell me why tea is not nice,” Mr. Magi said.

“It’s always so hot,” Schwarz explained. “It’s almost as if it’s trying to burn your throat, chickit. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Mr. Magi squinted one eye and then the other eye. And then he did it all over again, starting with the left eye. “That’s quite odd, Schwarz. The tea is hot for that’s how we make tea. It must be hot.”

“You mean you make the tea hot on purpose?”

Mr. Magi nodded. “Yes.”

“What?!” Schwarz wasn’t happy. “You purposely try to burn my throat? What?! No, what?!”

Mr. Magi waved his hand. “Young man, you’re still not understanding. In order to make it tea, you must make it hot. That’s how it works. No one is trying to hurt no one.”

“I hate No One, then, since he’s trying to hurt No One.”

I believe Mr. Magi may have choked here. “What do you mean by that? I need to think about what you just said. Say it again, please?”

“No,” Schwarz said in a high-pitched voice.

And then Schwarz said it: “Tea conversations are weird, chickit!”

Prince Beef and the Professor

So, the professor was about. (I only go about sometimes, and very rarely.)

I was actually strolling in Prince Beef’s royal gardens. (I found the gate unlocked. Either somebody was expecting me, or someone didn’t care enough to stop me.)

The professor strolled, walked, and sprinted [professor’s never skip] throughout the gardens.

Then, unluckily for me, I ran into Prince Beef and his…lady-friend, Greta. They were sitting at a stone table of sorts.

Prince Beef seemed surprised. “P.VJ? What are you doing here?”

I knew I’d been caught, and lies never work in that sort of situation, so I told the truth—my professorish version, of course.

“Your gardener left the door open for me, I think.”

“Malediction!” Prince Beef almost shouted. “Your un-royal foot should not be walking on my garden path, should it? My wish is that you answer ‘no’, by the way.”

The professor wasn’t sure what to say.

Greta laughed. “Don’t be too harsh on him, my prince.”

Prince Beef smiled. “Very well. P.VJ, join us—now!”

I sat at the table.

“As I was saying,” the prince resumed, “my destiny is bound to be glorious, don’t you think so, P.VJ?”

“It depends,” I answered. “And I’m rather unsure on the prospect.”

The prince was angry. “What do you mean?!”

“Well, I know my destiny is bound to be dadblamery.”

The prince was tapping his foot angrily. “Don’t compare me to you—as is your wont. The differences between us are clear. I’m smart, you’re not. You dress oddly, and I don’t!”

“Prince Beef!” Greta didn’t seem to approve.

“That pink feather you have sticking out of your hat is a wonder,” I offered.

The prince stared at me for a moment. “You say the gardener let you in?”

I was caught. “I suppose so, yes. I mean, I think so. Don’t you think so?”

The prince waved his hand. “It’s not my job to think.”

“It’s not mine either,” I admitted.

“Everyone will have a great destiny,” Greta said. “All you have to do is get out there and define it a bit.”

“How so, dear?” the prince asked.

“The pink feather is a start,” I offered. “That defines a lot about a man.”

The prince turned to me. “How so, you scheming swine?”

I stood. “I really have to run.” And I started off down the path.

“Get back here!” the prince roared. “I’ll whip the gardener for letting you in!”

And as I left, I heard Daddy Salami singing as he skipped down the path–from the other way.

And just before I rounded the corner and was gone, I heard this:

THE PRINCE: “What are you?”

DADDY SALAMI: Hehaha! The gardener.

I left in a hurry then.

Mr. Magi’s House

It’s quite calm inside Mr. Magi’s house. And it’s quite small.

The professor was sitting at the table with Mr. Magi, drinking tea, and discussing something that was quite worrisome–to Mr. Magi, that is.

The professor was a bit on edge, maybe.

Mr. Magi raised his tea cup. “It still has me worried. And I think it has you worried, too, P.VJ.” He took a sip–very loudly–from his cup.

That’s a remarkable fact about Mr. Magi: He sips tea very loudly. At least, it was remarkable to this professor.

The professor doesn’t tend to like tea, so I didn’t take a sip while Mr. Magi was taking a sip. Instead, I coughed to fill the gap. Didn’t want Mr. Magi to hurry up his sip.

“I suppose I’m a bit worried,” I said. “But F. Henry can probably take care of himself, don’t you think?”

Mr. Magi’s left eyebrow shot up. “No. No, I don’t. Fats is a braggart. That’s why he’s having this party: To brag about his new treasure piece. I figure there’ll be many…” Mr. Magi paused and cleared his throat. “Many unscrupulous fellows ready to steal what Fats is going to be bragging about.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Mark Mallone, Lucini Pavarinni… The list is endless.”

And it was. Mr. Magi was right. Someone would probably try to steal it.

“So…” I asked, “What is the thing again?”

“Didn’t you read the newspaper?”

I shook my head, and Mr. Magi handed me a newspaper.

On the front, was a huge picture of Fats Henry, smiling, and holding an old music box.

“A music box?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s supposed to be old. I’m not sure what the fuss is about it myself. But…” Mr. Magi shrugged. “So, P.VJ, we’re going to the party to make sure nothing happens. Now–” And Mr. Magi looked at me with a stern eye– “Don’t argue about my decision.”

Looking back, I really should have.

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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