Posts Tagged 'story'

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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Faked by a Fake

Every disbelief is a belief.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, out of King Arthur’s castle this professor went–with the katana.

Yay. Victory. I’d won. Time to celebrate.

But I didn’t, of course. Celebrating is really something that’s not good to do. See, when you start celebrating someone usually shows up and shows you why you shouldn’t be celebrating.

Therefore, celebrate in name only. #HistoryLesson

Okay, so it was dark out.

Night, even.

Well, it was night.

maxresdefault

Like this, only the Dinosaur Comet wasn’t coming.

Pretty soon–sooner than a bee making honey–this professor was lost amongst the buildings, shacks, and condos that made up the town or village around the castle.

(I don’t think there were condos, but I couldn’t think of another word for ‘shack’ or ‘building.’)

Now, this was thing: The professor had the Jeweled Katana.

What to do?

Well, it’d be nice to return home. That was the thing, see. Returning home is always nice.

But how to get across the big ocean very fastly fast? The professor had never been a good swimmer, see.

This fellow could do it.

This fellow could do it.

As the professor was thinking all these things, I ran into a chap I hadn’t seen in centuries. Well, not that long, but such a long time you wouldn’t believe.

Mr. Magi.

He still dressed the same: Short black cape, top hat, cane with a bobble thingy at the top, shiny black shoes.

And his black mustache seemed twitched up a few notches in terror.

“Young man,” he said, looking from me to the naked sword I was carrying.

(Naked sword = no scabbard.) 

“That sword–“

“Katana, you mean,” I interrupted.

“Yes, yes whatever.”

I did have a good point. It was a katana not a sword, I’d decided.

“That sword,” he tried again.

In truth, this is true: I was going to interrupt him again. But I figured it’d just set the whole conversation back. And we really had to get on. After all, the king was sorta after me. So I let him continue.

“It is wanted by practically everyone in TPL!”

“Don’t I know it,” I replied. “Why, this professor has nearly lost his toes on a few occasions.”

Mr. Magi raised his eyebrow–left one–at that.

Then he said something quite shocking: “Give me the sword. It must be returned to its rightful owner.”

“But we can’t do that, the sudden,” I said. “See, here’s the thing: Prince Beef was going to give the katana to Fats Henry if Henry stole the Diamond of Drake. Since this professor is so upright and smooth, I decided I better thieve the katana in order to stop the thieving of the Diamond of Drake.”

“Flawed thinking there, young man. Flawed thinking. Why does he want the Diamond of Drake?”

“For a wedding ring for Gertrude. But anyways and some, you can’t return it to the Beef, see. It will only cause more thieving. Sometimes you must be immoral to stop greater immorality.”

Mr. Magi shook his head. “Your logic is flawed. One, I must return it. Two, I’ll talk to Fats Henry and make sure he doesn’t steal the Diamond of Drake.”

“Three,” I finished, “I’m outta here.”

And I turned and ran.

Into the nearest tavern. Right through the door, up the stairs, and into the first room.

I shut the door and readied myself for an assault.

And that’s when a jewel fell off the katana’s hilt. It hit the ground with a click not a clack.

That was a big problem.

And also enlightening…

The katana I was holding…

…was a fake.

PL Symbol

How To Get Rid of Unwanted Food At Dinner

professor speaks

There was a dog running about the place.

That’s always a good thing when you’re over someone’s house at dinner.

See, if you get served something that is ugly, you can get rid of it in a hurry or two.

Or three hurries–if it’s real bad.

I bet this is set-up, this picture.

I bet this is set-up, this picture.

“You can sit here, PVJ,” she said, pulling out my chair.

I sat. Just because it’s the polite thing to do. Usually I like to feel the cushion before sitting, but I didn’t. The professor was trying to be polite, see.

#PoliteStinks

It was a puffy chair. You know, one of those dadblame things that sorta push you higher, even though you want to sit lower.

My legs were touching the bottom of the table.

This wasn’t good. There was no way to sneak food under the table to the dog in this position.

Dadblameit.

Everyone took their seats. There were about 8 people. That’s not bad. With that many people, one doesn’t need to worry about conversation, see.

I would’ve leaned back and relaxed, but my legs were sorta stuck. It was an issue, I tell you.

“Everyone seated?” she asked.

It was a silly question; an obvious question; a question that shouldn’t have been asked.

‘She’ was the hostess, see. Her husband sat next to her.

We were all served this mushy stuff. And I had to get rid of it.

I did take a taste. Now it was the dog’s turn.

The problem was this: The dog was sitting in the corner, not too far from me, but far enough.

I beckoned to him. Nothing.

“So, PVJ, how’s your work coming?”

“Good,” I answered quickly. “But it’s not worth talking about, since it happened earlier and this is later.”

It was a terse answer, but I was trying to make eye contact with the dog. I couldn’t be bothered.

There were some mutterings from the guests. But I listened not.

I motioned to the dog. Again. This time, he stood into a sitting position. (Only dogs can pull that off, you know.)

“Why are you waving at the dog?” one fellow asked.

“Oh…just saying hi to everyone is all.”

“So, PVJ…” 

Same woman as before.

“What do you do for work?”

See, women always seem to ask leading questions or fake questions. You know, it’s like they’re gearing up or getting ready to ask the big one. But they’re just not brave enough to come out and ask it.

“I’m not really sure.”

And this professor beckoned the dog again. I was trying to be discrete, but that was over as soon as the dog bounded over to me, jumped up, and buried his head into my plate.

That worked well. I wouldn’t have to eat any of it.

#ProfessorWins

“What a misbehaved dog,” I noted. “I can’t believe this mess.”

“That’s okay,” the hostess replied. “We’ve got plenty more food.”

Dadblameit. 


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
6. Rapscallion
7. Gardoobled
8. Congratulilolations
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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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