Posts Tagged 'The Sweet Cherry Incident'

Why Things End Abruptly

It is with great dread that I regret to inform you of a thing.

The Sweet Cherry Incident, I fear, probably won’t have an end.

You see, the rest of the story sorta goes Top Secret, and I’ve been forbidden–by General Smallhoover– to recount anymore of it.

Therefore, therefore.

In other words, this professor should probably comply with the generals demands–if I want to keep my ears.

I can tell you, though, that I lived, and that the sweet cherries turned out to be a deadly poison, designed on Honi Planet, and designed to wipe out the Punchy Lands.

(Honi Planet has hated The Punchy Lands for some time.)

The good news is: the plan failed. #professorwins

Because of the professor, of course. #professorisabeast

Anyways and some, TPL should be back online somewhat this following week. With a new story.

Until then–I loves you all muches!

Extra points if you can name this beast:



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.


“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.


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

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.


(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.)


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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:


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.


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


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

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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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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