Posts Tagged 'The Punchy Lands'

Late Because Not My Fault

The professor is a patient person.

Usually.

Sometimes, I’m not, and that’s when I riot. #riotingisfun

160209115236-24-mong-kok-riot-0209-exlarge-169

A picture of me after rioting.

But, anyways and some, I pushed the elevator button, because I had to go up, after all.

Just up a floor, mind.

And I had to get there within three minutes. Not a problem.

Sadly, that’s when it all went south, like a buffalo running down a hill who loses control and starts to tumble.

jumpingbuffalo-yellowstonenationalp

You see, that’s when the hallway became packed with so many people, I feared–the sudden–for my oxygen supply.

Then there was a ding, and the elevator opened.

It was going down, not up.

“Dadblameit!” I cussed.

“That’s not going to help anything,” a girl next to me, who was also waiting, said.

“What’s not?”

“Cursing. It’s not how you should live your life.”

“But you’re as wrong as wrong can get, because I’m always right. It definitely helps. After all, Mark Twain and John Wayne said it does, and they can’t possibly be wrong.”

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

She raised an eyebrow.

The elevator came again.

And success!

It was going up.

But, rats and a heifer, there was no room.

That’s when the professor glanced at his watch.

Just thirty seconds now.

I ran to the stairs.

And wonders of wonders, can you believe when I arrived at the correct floor, the door to access that floor was handle-less?! No handle. No way to get it.

What made it even worse was the fact that I could see the place where I needed to be through the window.

The professor just couldn’t get there.

So…I rioted.

Riot mode.

Riot mode.

The professor busted down the door with inhuman strength, charged into the nearest room, grabbed the nearest employee, and dragged him back to the door.

“What is wrong with your building, hmm, dadblameit?! Elevator service is awfully awful and there’s no handles on your doors! What is this? A giggle-joke?!”

“I’ll fix it right away, sir!” the fellow said nervously as he shook brutally.

“You better,” I said, relaxing. “Now you’ve gone and made me late.”

“I’ll make it up to you!” He was on his knees know, begging. “Please don’t hurt me!”

The professor raised an eyebrow. “A free lunch? That’s what I require.”

“Yes!! You got it!”

Double-dadblameit. That sounded so good, too.

That’s how I did it in my mind, see.

In reality, I stood there, staring through the door for a good ten minutes, before I decided to try to find another way in.

The professor was late, and there was nothing a soul, or ghost, could do about it.

Lying Cups

“Look here,” I said, “I’m not sure you get the point of it.”

“Oh, I get the point of it,” he said.

“Not at all,” I returned. “If you did, you’d know what I meant when I said ‘get the point of it’.”

He put his head in his hands in a dramatic fashion.

“Can you please make some sense?” he tried again.

“Okay, look here,” I said, preparing to go over all the details again. “There’s no way this cup”–and I indicated a 32 oz. canteen–“can survive a 500 ft. drop into a canyon full of the rockiest rocks ever.”

“It doesn’t say it can do that,” he returned sharply.

I gave him the professor face. I do that from time to time, you know. It can be rather effective, too. #scary

“It says it can on the cup,” I said.

“Show me.”

So, I did.

And I quote: Able to withstand up to a 500 ft. drop!

“It doesn’t say anything about rocks being at the bottom,” he said.

“Well,” I said, “that’s my problem, see. At the bottom of every canyon, there’s rocks, double-see, and I think it’s telling they left out the rocks bit, triple-see. It’s kinda like saying the cup can survive the fall, only if there are no rocks at the bottom. But there are ALWAYS rocks at the bottom of a canyon.”

“Are you for real?

I stopped. The professor may or may not have been getting a little cranky here. #timetoriot

“Last time I checked,” I said, “I found that I was very real–and brutally scary.”

“Look,” he said, “if you’re really worried about this cup surviving a 500 ft. drop, then there’s something wrong in your life.”

I put the cup back on the shelf.

“This professor, you must understand, does not buy lying cups.”

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

Schwarz Tauptinker, The Patriots, and Please Stand Clear of the Doors

“Please stand clear of the doors,” is an interesting thing of interest.

Of this, there’s not many doubts.

(Perhaps, someone might be able to raise a doubt here, there, or over there, but I doubt it.)

Now, here’s the thing: What do you suppose is meant by such a phrase?

Not being one to jump to conclusions (I fear conclusions like I fear fat sausages) I took up the matter with Schwarz Tauptinker.

“What does it mean, that phrase?”

“Obviously,” Schwarz answered, “I’ll tell you.”

There was a pause.

“Whenever you’re ready, of course.”

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“So,” I said, starting at the beginning again, “what is meant by the phrase, “Stand clear of the doors,” do you suppose?”

“Obviously they just cleaned the glass, tell you what,” he said.

That was shocking.

“Cleaned the glass? I’m not following.”

“Yeah, cause it’s clear, dude. Stand clear of the doors. The doors are clear. And dirty glass is not clear.”

“I suspected it was some sort of code like that.”

“Not a code,” he said, somewhat miffed. “That was easy to figure out. The secret meaning, or code, is this: Don’t let the doors hit you.”

***

Anyway, that is what is said by Mr. Speaker overtime one gets on or off the T.

midland_metro_tram

So, yes, that’s nice and colorful. And looks fast, too. Mine isn’t like that at all. It’s boring and white and slow. And bumpy. And full of beetles.

So, I just had to write about it.

Also, check this out:

edelman

Go Pats! I might be able to watch that over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Classroom Mayhem

“So…”–gigantic, and I mean huge, pause for emphasis here–“how do we know what we know?”

The question hung in the air, and this professor, for one, would’ve left it hanging there (probably indefinitely) but an elderly chap sitting next to me raised his hand and spoke up.

He said something full of dadblamery, so I had to raise my hand and say:

“We know what we know because we know it.”

A just answer. Maybe a bit oblique, but then again, so was the question. I leaned back like a conqueror, thinking that I had won, and that it was over.

But a war was coming.

The chap teaching the class shook his head.

“No, no, you can’t answer that way,” he said. “They were the words I used in my question.”

“Quite right,” I said, “that’s why I rearranged them for my answer.”

“No.” He was a bit stern here, I must admit. Hands on hips, chin jutting out in my direction like a stag beetle with it’s great big jaws. “You don’t get it.”

Stag Beetle with its awesome jaws.

Stag Beetle with its awesome jaws.

“Oh I get it.”

Of course, this professor didn’t mean to be spicy at all, but the other students laughed here a bit, bits, and little bits.

“You. Don’t. Get It,” he repeated. “I want you to use your own words to answer the question.”

And then this professor spied something on his shoulder, and I knew I’d won.

“They became my own words once I rearranged them, see. And furthermore, double see, is that a hornet on your shoulder?”

He screamed, everyone laughed, and this professor–shiny, cunning beast that he is–won.

#conqueror 


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:

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or

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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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