Posts Tagged 'Punchy'


Click here to read the first few stories in the tale of “The Sweet Cherry Incident.” (Just scroll down.)

It’s said, “History is the greatest teacher,” but this can’t be. Great teachers are heeded, prophets aren’t. It should be, “History is the greatest Prophet.”

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, Manly-Man was going to the be the pilot of my intergalactic flight.

Oh yay.

Of course, maybe he was just wearing the pilot uniform for kicks and giggles.

There was hope, see.

The White Tree of Gondor. You didn't hope was symbolized by a white flower, did you? Neither did I. Peter Jackson, you visionary.

The White Tree of Gondor. You didn’t know hope was symbolized by a white flower, did you? Neither did I. Peter Jackson, you visionary.

Anyways and a few, I reached Space Dock 10.

Well, sorta.

See, once you get to the dock, you get in line–a long line–and you start making your way up to the docking station.

The line moves like a tiny crawler. Very slow. In fact, so slow, you think you’re barely moving at all.

There’s not much talking–which is a surprise, you must admit. Everyone is sorta hushed. (Their nervousness hushed them up, I bet.)

Plus, there’s a loudspeaker that’s constantly going, in a monotonous voice, too:

Once you reach the docking platform, please be patient while Intergalactic Flight 10 is prepared for launch. Make sure to stow any carry-ons in the net below your seat. If it doesn’t fit, sorry, you’ll have to lose it, bub.

Sorta what the line looked like. Only we were going up and up, see. The lighting was pretty much the same.

Sorta what the line looked like. Only we were going up and up, see. The lighting was pretty much the same.

And so on.

The wait wasn’t too bad, overall, see. There were huge flat screens throughout the line that showed all sorts of interesting footage. Mostly nature footage. With a few waterfalls thrown in.

I suppose it was a calming effect. The professor is already so calm, though, see.

Eventually, we made it to the docking station.


The voice was still going, but I ignored it.

Here’s the thing: Voices that keep going and keep saying the same things, should be ignored, see.

If you have to say the same thing over and over, it must not be important. #ProfessorLesson

Plus, there were attendants everywhere, making sure we got the things that needed done, done. Somehow–and I’m not sure how–we were all split up into individual launch groups, and lined up in front of many doors. The doors all had the number 10 glowing (in yellow) above them, but other than that, the room was completely dark. (There were some blue and purple LED lights that lit up the floor, though.)

No one was talking now.

This professor was nervous. But then, I’m always nervous about something. Dadblameit. Wait, no. I’m calm. Calm. That’s it. Can’t be contradicting myself.

We waited.

Tick tock went the clock.

“That’s the worst part, too,” a girl said behind me, as if she was having speaks with herself.

I turned.

So, okay. This lady was very nervous.

She was perspiring lots, see, and quite jumpy. Every time there was a noise–a cough, laugh, or some such thing–she’d jump, and wipe her stringy brownish-red hair from her eyes.

Her round glasses were fogging up, too, which reminded me of an invention that I’d come up with but hadn’t invented yet. (Isn’t that just it? We’re all inventors. But what separates us from the real ones is that we never invent what we imagine.)

Glasses that came complete with…windshield wipers!



Anyways, I said: “What’s the worst part? Don’t worry about it, madam. These flights aren’t bad at all.”

I lied. This was my first intergalactic flight, see. Well, I didn’t lie, I suppose. Maybe stretched the truth a little–which is good for it. Makes the truth more elastic, see. Then it can be what anyone wants it to be. *nods*

She shook her head and hugged her huge briefcase closer to her small body.


“No, no,” she said, “not the launch. Launches are easy.”

Then her pained and worried expression broke, and she laughed.

“But I can tell that this is your first! No one who’s been on them before call’s them flights. They’re launches. As you’ll soon see.”

Our conversation was interrupted at that moment.

There was a loud ding, and then the voice returned:

When the launch door opens, proceed to your launch chair. Stow items in the basket below the seat. Good launch to you.

Another ding, and the door opened.

PL Symbol


Dock 10

Watch out for the man that airs his opinions as facts; if he does that, pretty soon, he’ll believe it.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, we landed without any more issues.

I mean, this professor got to nap.

The burly chap and the lady stayed pretty much to themselves.

Capital, I say. Quite capital.

Anyways and some, once the plane landed we waited around in the plane, smashed together–without any air, mind–like beetles in a beetle paste, until the ramp was up and rocking out.

Beetle paste is made with these chaps, I bet.

Beetle paste is made with these chaps, I bet.

Now, here’s the thing about the professor: I travel light. So light, in fact, you probably wouldn’t think I was traveling if you saw me about.

I had a pack.

And that’s it.


My pack, see. Who knows what I put in there.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the ramp.

Once off the ramp, I was free.

At least, it felt that way.

At first.

See, I had arrived at Space Dock Morchester. One of the busiest Space Docks in the land.

People were everywhere. Screaming, shouting, talking, laughing, crying, dying (medics were with them, I promise), and sleeping on benches and chairs.

It was something to behold.

Bags and suitcases were everywhere, too.

“Look there,” said one chap who was passing by with his wife. He was pointing to a red bag off by its own in the corner, near the restroom.

“What about it?” she said.

“A bomb, I bet.”

“Not a chance,” she said. “Remember the first rule? Never put bombs in a red bag. Everyone sees red. How many years did we work in the business and you still don’t get the basics?!”

Rats and a Heifer! What a thingy.

Busy, like this.

Busy, like this.

As a rule–and this professor doesn’t make too many rules, usually–Space Docks are full of violent people. I mean, it figures out, if you figure it.

Figure: People from all over TPL put together, and then, add people from the whole Honi Galaxy. Yup. A recipe for something to burn,  I say.

So, this professor went off, searching for my dock.

“This way, this way!” shouted one woman in a uniform. “If you’re heading for dock 5!”

I wasn’t, of course.

The professor was heading to dock 10. And no one had anything to say about it.

Thus, I slugged on, like a slug, through the crowd, always being sure to watch that I didn’t get thieved from. Never know when that might happen. #AlwaysWatchful #AlwaysCareful Professorish Mantra, right there.

Then I heard him:

“Oh my. Look who it is.”

I spun around.

Leaning against a fake island tree was Mr. Daniel H, the kids writer.

I approached, cautiously.

“Hello,” I said.

“Bet you didn’t expect to see me,” he said.

“Not at all, really,” I answered. “And you wouldn’t know the way to dock 10, would you?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, I’m heading for dock 3. I have a book to publish. I don’t know why, but my publishers moved to another planet. That’s not fair. Not fair at all.” Then he squeaked. He does that from time to time.

And that’s when the professor saw the sign for dock 10.

I also saw another thing, which was way scarier and gave me the shudder:

Manly-Man, wearing a pilot’s uniform, was seemingly heading towards dock 10, too.


PL Symbol

Space Dock-ing

They say you need fear to be courageous. This is a lie. You need only love.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, the professor was going on vacation.

Rather, the professor was on his way to vacation.

See, that part is always left out, isn’t it?

Depending on the circumstances, sometimes the vacation isn’t worth the pain and dadblamery it takes to get there.

Dost thou agree?

Of course you do.

You can’t disagree with that, or you might be a bit wormy.

Anyways and some.

This professor was off.

In a plane.


Planes are fun. And a bit tiring.

So, this professor leaned back–with a book on my lap, see–and closed my eyes for a few winks.

(I had a book there just so I looked like I dozed off while reading. It’s a thing, see. Academics are always dozing off while reading. Sometimes I fancy myself one.)

“Look, the only reason I hate you is because you enjoy what I don’t.”

That startled me.

The bury fellow next to me was speaking up.

I should’ve mentioned that this professor was smashed in between two people, see. Wasn’t lucky enough to have the window seat and wasn’t lucky enough to have the aisle seat.

I was betrayed.

Abandoned. But I was making the most of it.

Till the burly fellow on my left yelled at me.

“Say again?” I asked.

He shook his head. I think he was cranky about having to say it again. His ragged, stringy beard looked ferocious, too.

“The only reason I can’t stand you,” he said, more slowly this time, “is because you enjoy what I hate.”

And he indicated the book I was reading.

It was Shakespeare.

You know, that odd English guy with the earring.


Now, here’s the thing: that Shakespeare book is one that the professor carries around sometimes. It puts you to sleep extra fast.


Perfect cure for insomnia right there.

I should get lots of money for telling this cure, now that I think on it.

#ProfessorPatent #ProfessorCure

So, the chap said that. About Shakespeare.

And this professor didn’t say anything at first.

I was shocked.

‘Cause it was shocking. What didn’t he like? The earring, I bet. Me too, though. So.

But before I could say anything, explain that I only read Mr. Earring so that I’d fall asleep faster, the lady on my right spoke up:

“You bearded moron,” she said, to the burly chap. “Shakespeare takes sophistication to understand! Something that you obviously don’t have, but which this gentleman–“she smacked me in the arm here–“does. So, shut-up.”

“Oh is that right?!” he said, leaning over me. “I don’t care! Ya hear me? I don’t care! I’d smack a woman!”

“Look here,” I said, pushing them into their respective seats. “Why don’t we just stop?” I looked at the fellow. “The sudden, I don’t care if you hate me or not.” Then this professor looked at the lady. “Thank you for your sentiments, but I don’t really read the brute,” I said, tapping the book. “He cures my insomnia.”

“Well!” she said, tossing her head and going back to her business.

“Hahaha!” the burly one said. “Apologies! I misjudged you.”

Then there was peace for our time.

Goodness. I needed to get some rest, see. Once this flight was through, I had to navigate the Space Dock. And that was always nearly impossible, double-see. You think airports are bad? Space Docks are worse.

International flights compared to Intergalactic flights.

Yup. The fear was real.

And, yes, in case you’re wondering:

The professor was heading to outer space.


The Punchy Lands is in the Honi Galaxy, see.

PL Symbol

The Jeweled Katana–Found

The adventure never truly ends.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, this professor let them go.

Bud Parker and Schwarz Tauptinker went back in for the fake katana.

Of course, they didn’t know it was fake.

But I did.

See, this goes to show you that the professor knows mostly everything but never lets on that he does. #LifeLesson

Anyways and some, Sweet Sue guessed that the katana was fake. She knew. Deep down in.

What the kapoo.

Clara Higgins ran back to her tea shop.

This professor is not sure where Gertrude went, but rest assured, she went.

Now, as for this professor and hisself, I hopped on a plane.

Time for a vacation, see.

I was heading here:

Contrary to popular belief, I do swim with the fishes--sharks.

Contrary to popular belief, I do swim with the fishes–sharks.

See, it was a good adventure (the whole katana thingy) and now it was drawing to a close. What does one do after an adventure? Go on vacation, of course. #LifeLesson

The professor was a Just warrior. This was a truth. After all, I had stopped the thievery of the Diamond of Drake. Prince Beef still wanted it, yes, but it was doubtful that he’d get it. Especially since he didn’t have a lady wanting a ring, see.

Anyways, it wasn’t the professor’s problem anymore.

I was on vacation. Well, almost.

Prince Beef thought he had the Jeweled Katana, but he didn’t. Not that he would care much if he found out.

And this begged the question, like a beggar begging: Where was the real one?

I had misplaced it somewhere along the line.



Yes! Coolness overload.

Yes! Coolness overload.

Oh, what the kapoo. Who cared anyway?

The professor did. Deep down in. Rats and a Heifer!

Now, this is when the interest happened. As I was sitting there, waiting for the plane to take off, King Arthur came and sat down next to me.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said.

“Why, why.” I could think of nothing else.

“Going on vacation, too?”

“Well, yes,” I answered. “After a great adventure one needs to.”

There was silence for a time, times a bit of another time.

“So…” I said as the plane took off. “Where is the real Jeweled Katana?”

“Why would I know?” Arthur looked away.

“‘Cause this professor has been having thinks on it, and I’m thinking you know. That’s when I lost track of it, when I was with you, don’t you know.”

King Arthur sighed. “Why hide it any longer?”

He grabbed his book bag (he had one) and unzipped it.

Inside: the Jeweled Katana.

Well, a miniature one.


“So,” Arthur said. “That’s it. I had it cropped so I could use it. Long swords are hard to use–“(Arthur is really short, remember)–“Then I planted the fake. It was a setup. That’s what you stole.”


Not very victorious, after all.

Arthur laughed. “Sucker.”



“I need a vacation, the sudden, even more. Even if I don’t deserve it, double-the-sudden.”

And that’s when the pilot came over the speakers:

“Hey, honeybuttses, hope you’s all havin’ a good day. I’s your pilot.”

Many greats. If we got to the vacation spot, it would be a fantastic miracle.

Who knew what we were in for with Manly-Man as our pilot?


PL Symbol

Decisions, Decisions

What makes something precious? The amount of people willing to die for it.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledThe professor stopped right there and his jaw dropped a bit, bits, and little bits.

“You’re working for Mr. Magi?!” I asked.

After all, this professor wasn’t on good terms with Mr. Magi. He was of the school of thought that this professor was a thiever, because well, I took the Jeweled Katana to prevent further thieving.

Just goes to show you that they learn nothing in school, really.

Sweet Sue turned and looked at me, as if she was maddened she had to explain. She was always like that, see.


And to the point.

I wear a shirt like this every other day.

I wear a shirt like this every other day.

Great spy characteristics is one of her strong suits, see.

“I said freelance, Noodle. No one owns me but myself. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I was there when you and Mr. Magi threw down the gauntlet.”

“You were?” The professor may have been shocked. Not that I’ll admit it freely again, though, see.

Sweet Sue just looked at me. You know. That look.

“Well,” Clara Higgins huffed, looking at Sweet Sue. “I think you should turn him in! He’s the one that got me involved in this whole thing!”

“Did he really?” Schwarz Tauptinker said, shaking his from side to side and staring at me. “I don’t believe it…”

But he did.

“We better get a move on,” Sweet Sue said. “If you want to get out of Prince Beef’s palace alive.”

And that’s when the cat–who had attacked the guard–jumped back into the basket.

“Ahh, George,” Sweet Sue said. “Where would I be without you?” George looked at her with his eye lids at half-mast and purred loudly enough to scare a grizzly bear.

George and Sweet Sue are un-seperate-able. This is fact. The professor should get a cat.

This is another fact.

I’m full of facts today, I think.

Check it out! A list of cat fats. This just fits somehow...

Check it out! A list of cat facts. This just fits somehow…

Anyways and some, Sweet Sue and George led us through the caverns of the prison until we all popped out in a small forest near the palace.

This professor could see the palace from the forest. Which was neatio. Keeping an eye on things, see. It’s always good to be able to see, double-see.

“Now,” Bud Parker said, folding his arms. “We’ve got to regroup and go back in.”

“What?!” Clara wasn’t happy–she was almost howling.

“We do,” Schwarz admitted. “We need the katana, oh yeah.”

“Schwarz, no,” Gertrude said. “Let’s just go.”

“No, baby sister,” Schwarz replied. “Must. Do. It. Do it NOW!”

“We’ve been trying for it for some time,” Parker said, casting me an ugly look. “PVJ got in the way, though.”

“Look here,” I said.

And everyone did.

I was surprised it worked. Must remember it works that way, see. #MentalNote

“This sort of thing is quite vexing. Let me be frank–“

“I thought you were PVJ,” Schwarz interrupted.

That was a thing.

“Well, then,” I continued, “just let me say this: Originally, this professor thieved the katana in order to stop Prince Beef from having Fats Henry thieve the Diamond of Drake. I thieved to stop thieving. Which sorta makes thieving okay.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Clara mumbled. “It was stupid.”

“Since then,” I continued undaunted by the mumbling, “things have happened. The marriage has been called off.”

Gertrude started to cry here. “There…there…there was going to be a party tonight to celebrate our marriage! But…but…but…then she came along!”

Clara looked away.

“But,” I said, continuing on my professorishly topic, “Prince Beef still wants the Diamond of Drake. Which means, we’re right back where we started at.”

“Bud,” Parker said, “Schwarz and I are moving in. Tonight. We want the sword.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah,” Schwarz agreed. “The Prince is still going to have the party, I’m sure. You don’t have all that stuff prepared just to waste it, tell you what.”

The professor’s mind went like this:

The katana the prince had was fake; but they didn’t know that; they would make a great distraction if this professor needed to go back in tonight; did the professor need to go back in tonight?

I looked at Sweet Sue. Sue looked back at me. We both nodded. And then it became clear.

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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