tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48148883744058563302024-03-08T16:21:03.938+02:00King Blink and Other StoriesSometimes, when I'm bored or my mind is wandering, I like to write about the land of King Blink...Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-65226016795834319212006-12-10T19:30:00.000+02:002006-12-10T19:32:28.121+02:00Chapter 7 - The Trial (4)<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >W</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >ho said I wanted I participate?! Sinister tried to scream but his voice was sucked into this throat. A rush of thoughts raced through his head as he kept on tumbling towards a certain death below. He was participating in the Deadly Drop. Why? He never asked for this! He wasn’t even given a choice! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister panicked. Wildly flailing his arms he tried to find something to grab onto but there was nothing, except the post box still dropping next to him. For a lack of anything better to grab, Sinister took a hold onto the post box and hugged it like a long-lost friend. In the dark the post box seemed to smile most reassuringly. Then the post box seemed to slow in its descent. Unbelievingly Sinister also slowed and came to a bobbing halt in mid-air.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: left;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >A note popped out of the post box:<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;" align="center"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >WE APOLOGISE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. GRAVITY HAS NOW BEEN REVERSED. THANK YOU FOR ATTEMPTING THE DEADLY DROP. HAVE A NICE DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p> </o:p><br />“Wait!” screamed Sinister. “I’m suspended in mid-air with nothing around me! Where am I to go now?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >If he was hoping for another note, he was wrong. The post box seemed to grin at him as if expecting something from Sinister. And then Sinister lost all control. He grabbed the post box by its “neck” and started wringing it purposively.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Help…me…,” emerged from his clenched teeth. “Or…I…will…strangle…you…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >The post box kept on grinning or so it seemed to Sinister’s anguished mind. He increased his grip on the wooden surface but the post box did not yield. The inane grin seemed to mock him. With a hopeless shrug Sinister pushed the irritating post box into the darkness. And immediately plunged after it. They seemed to have an invisible link!<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-63141980952108357282006-12-02T08:30:00.000+02:002006-12-10T19:33:52.601+02:00Chapter 7 - The Trial (3)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Carefully he opened the first door. Beyond the door a strong bridge stretched across the chasm to another door at the opposite side. Let’s not rush into things, thought Sinister, and opened the second door. Beyond the door an extremely shaky, dilapidated bridge stretched to a door on the opposite side of the chasm. Okay, we’ll play along, thought Sinister, and opened the third door. There was no bridge but a door sat on the opposite side. Clearly he should choose through which door he should go, Sinister deduced. But how?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A second later another note popped out of the post box. This time Sinister grasped it without a second’s thought. The note was as short as the previous one. It said:</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">SORRY</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sorry for what? Sinister was confused. Things were getting weirder by the moment. As he sat down to think matters through a third note popped out of the post box:</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">THIS IS THE BRIDGE OF UNCERTAINTY. CHOOSE THE DOOR TO TAKE YOU THROUGH.</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hmmm, thought Sinister, this is quite clearly a clue. The bridge of uncertainty. As far as he could make out the bridge beyond the first door was solid and dependable. Nothing uncertain about that one. The third door held no bridge, so nothing uncertain about that one either. The former should take him safely across without any doubt. The latter will most definitely lead to his premature death. The bridge beyond the second door, however, might or might not take him safely across. Thus, uncertainty! Without a second thought Sinister opened the second door and started on the dilapidated bridge. Within a few moments he stood safely on the other side. A soft pop sounded and the doors and bridges had disappeared as if they had never existed.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Well, that wasn’t too bad, thought Sinister and then the ground below him disappeared with the same soft pop. As he fell, Sinister saw the post box dropping next to him. A little note stuck out teasingly. This is not a good time to spend on reading, rushed through Sinister’s thoughts as he tumbled down. With a slight effort he grabbed the note and managed to read its message:</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">THANK YOU FOR ATTEMPTING THE DEADLY DROP. PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS TRIAL IS STILL EXPERIMENTAL. PARTICIPATION IS VOLUNTARY AND AT YOUR OWN RISK.</span></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-47982174319797980072006-11-26T16:49:00.000+02:002006-11-26T16:51:36.623+02:00Chapter 7 - The Trial (2)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >B</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >eyond the opening a chasm, seemingly endless, gaped. On the brink of the chasm stood Sinister, gaping. He had never imagined such an absolute absence of somethingness. Glancing around him for an alternative route, Sinister saw a small post box next to him. Clear white letters said: ‘Post your comments here’. Shrugging, Sinister pulled the completed card from his pocket and dropped it in the post box. He waited. For what he was waiting, he didn’t know but somehow it seemed to be the right thing to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Waiting is an interesting experience. It gives one the opportunity to reflect and recollect one’s thoughts. A chance to take stock, so to speak. Perhaps even find some meaning or backtrack over one’s life. It offers one a break from the rush, a halt in the endless pursuit towards unseen goals.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >It is also incredibly and utterly boring.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Especially when nothing happens for a long time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Luckily nothing tends not to keep on happening forever.<o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >And such was the case now. Quite unexpectedly a little note popped out of the post box and fluttered to rest at Sinister’s feet. For a while he considered whether he should read it or wait for it to do something noteworthy. The silent struggle between Sinister and the note continued but Sinister soon decided that the note obviously could wait much longer than he could. Swiftly he picked it up, glancing into the nothingness to see whether anyone saw his lack of willpower. Evidently satisfied Sinister read the note. It was quite succinct:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >CHOOSE<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Choose what, Sinister wondered. His thoughts were answered a moment later. With a rumble three doors descended from an unseen roof and came to rest at the edge of the chasm, right in front of Sinister. The message was clear. Sinister had to choose a door. But how could he decide if no criteria were given, worried Sinister?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-49541773212217484332006-11-21T18:09:00.000+02:002006-11-21T18:13:11.179+02:00Chapter 7 - The Trial<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Not at all what I expected, he seemed to think but wasn’t sure. He was slowly drifting downwards, or upwards, who knows, almost like a leaf fluttering to the ground. A leaf flutters a lot quicker though, thought Sinister. Around him he could make out little stars waving at him, winking and grinning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >With a slight bump he reached the ground. He was inside some kind of cave. The cave of the Beast! Somewhat bewildered now, Sinister glanced at his surroundings. He was definitely inside a cave. The cave was virtually empty, except for a pervasive smell, somewhat reminiscent of the odour found in the kitchens of King Blink’s palace. Not a particularly pleasant smell, Sinister now thought. A small placard next to him stated: “Thank you for leaping. Please take a card.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">‘Take a card?’ thought Sinister, bewildered. What card? Then he saw the small, neat pile of cards stacked next to the placard. Gingerly he took one, expecting it to jump for his throat at any moment. But no, the card simply had some text on it:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:";" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">The Leap of Death Experience Feedback Poll<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >We’d like to hear from you!<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt; text-indent: 36pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Please rate your experience…<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >1. I leapt with… <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >A. Joy <span style=""> </span>B. Pleasurable anticipation<span style=""> </span>C. Some hesitation<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >2. If I could leap again, I would…<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >A. Jump at the opportunity<span style=""> </span>B. Consider it<span style=""> </span>C. Say no<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >3. Would you recommend The Leap of Death Experience to your friends?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:";font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-family: courier new;"> </span><span style="font-family: courier new;">A. Yes</span><span style="font-family: courier new;"> </span><span style="font-family: courier new;">B. Quite possibly</span><span style="font-family: courier new;"> </span><span style="font-family: courier new;">C. Most definitely</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Glancing around for a writing utility of some kind, Sinister saw a pencil lying next to the cards. Diligently he completed the card but finding no place to put the completed card, he placed it in his pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">Gazing through the dim light, he made out a small opening at the back of the cave. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, so he continued through the opening and almost died.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-41560448598464464832006-11-18T13:25:00.000+02:002006-11-18T13:29:03.151+02:00Chapter 6 - The Leap of Death (2)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister woke up inside a very peculiar room. His vision swam and probing gingerly he discovered a painful lump at the back of his head. The last thing he could recall was turning his back on the voice in the alley. Clearly that was not something one did in the Town of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Distant Relevance</st1:place></st1:city>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Although his vision still swam a bit, Sinister could see enough to realise that the room he was in was really very peculiar. All thoughts about his attacker vanished as he peered at his surroundings. The room, in fact, was so peculiar that it seemed quite normal. A round interior with a little table in the middle, a few chairs surrounding the table, cups and saucers, a few pots, all there.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Upside down. The whole interior was upside down. In fact, Sinister himself was upside down and that’s why he felt peculiar but it had seemed normal. By now Sinister had become used to the world of the Town of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Distant Relevance</st1:city></st1:place> and he supposed that whether a room was upright or upside down was really not relevant in the bigger scheme of things, along as the occupant was the same way up (or down) as the room. A sign close to a window caught Sinister’s eye. It said: “Welcome to The Leap of Death. Have a nice leap.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Looking around the room Sinister could see no doors or exits. Only the window faced him. Quite an attractive face too, Sinister thought. Wait a minute! The window had a face, a real face, facing him, smiling slightly. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Well, I suppose the window had a right to face me, hadn’t it? Sinister muttered to himself. He quickly categorised this new experience along with all the others he had already had in and around the Town of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Distant Relevance</st1:city></st1:place> and when he spoke his voice was normal and cheerful.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hi! Nice evening to hang around inside!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >The window face did not reply but a slight frown indicated displeasure at such light-hearted chatter. Funny, thought Sinister, it apparently can’t speak but it can hear me well enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, I suppose I have to jump out, seeing there’s no other way to leave. Do you, er, open yourself, or must I open, er, you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Now with a hint of sadness along the eyes, the window slowly creaked open and the sudden, bewildering, upside down world outside glared at Sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >His knees felt wobbly and his head confused. Then he recovered and looked at the floor. That was still firmly beneath him, or was it? No, think happy thoughts! Happy thoughts make happy people, that’s what Genius always said. Poor Genius! How long since they have left Blinkburg? It felt like years but it can’t be more than a day or two at the most, thought Sinister. A creak brought him back to his current conception of reality. The window was closing with a look that said ‘Oh well…’.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No, wait. I’m jumping. Give me a moment to get over there.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >The window swung open again and the face waited expectantly. Here goes, thought Sinister, and started running towards the window. Without a second thought he flung himself through the window.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-84639097697631393372006-11-13T20:10:00.000+02:002006-11-13T20:13:09.879+02:00Chapter 6 - The Leap of Death<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Once outside Sinister immediately became aware of a difference on the streets. There was the same hustle but everyone now seemed to be able to get what they needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Can I get two dozen eggs, please?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Now that’s a relevant question, you know…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes, but you’re not allowed to answer relevant questions and therefore the question is not relevant to you and you can answer me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Quite right, you are! Here’s the two dozen!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Smiling to himself Sinister walked on. The same conversation was repeated everywhere. The sailor in the pub must have started using Sinister’s argument and it had caught on. Thinking about his own quest the smile was quickly wiped from Sinister’s face. How was he supposed to find this Beast of the Cave?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Then a sudden idea came to him. If he could find someone who showed absolutely no curiosity, then he could find out the way to the cave of the Beast of the Cave. Now to find someone like that…<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >000000<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >A short while later Sinister was standing in a busy market square. Merchants and customers were milling about. It was a typical market day. Where would I find someone with no curiosity, wondered Sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hey! Look! There!” he shouted, simultaneously peering around to see who didn’t look in his direction.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >No one had heard him. The market was simply too crowded and noisy. With a sigh Sinister walked on. How was he to discover someone who’d know where the Beast was?<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >He could always ask the Beast’s friends, Sinister thought. Surely they visit him every now and then? Wait, a beast doesn’t have friends, does it? A beast probably only has food. No, hang on, this beast took away unwelcome visitors’ curiosity. Clearly it doesn’t devour people. Perhaps it does have friends…<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hey! Psst! Buddy!” came a voice from a dark alley.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >Oh no! Not again! thought Sinister. Another confusing “prediction” from a demented fortune teller. He’s not falling for that nonsense again. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-GB" >With these thoughts Sinister turned his back on the alley and walked away.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-11829125739299135302006-11-07T18:12:00.000+02:002006-11-07T18:15:10.602+02:00Chapter 5 - The Town of Distant Relevance (5)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >O</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >nce inside her office, Sinister stared around curiously. Not at all what he expected. There was a couch and a few chairs, a desk with a little pendulum and absolutely no books or scrolls anywhere. A large map of the town lined one of the walls and little red dots covered most of the map.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, that’s my TTD incidence locator. But we haven’t introduced ourselves yet. I’m Mathilda, also known as She Who Must Not Be Called By Any Other Name.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I’m Sinister and this is Dexter.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. How’s your mother, poor dear?” said Mathilda quite unexpectedly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You know us?” asked Sinister incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, but it’s good manners to always imply that you have known someone for years. You really should read <i style="">‘Ethel’s Guide to Etiquette and Other Ethical Questions – The Definitive Guide for the Discerning Healer and Socialite alike’</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“My friend here…you said he’s suffering from IGS with Remorse. What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Induced Guilt Syndrome with Remorse. Sometimes they suffer from IGS without Remorse, you know. Like I said, quite a complicated affliction. Was the onset rapid?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Uhm, yes, quite rapid.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Any extrahuman inducement?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Was The Guy human or not, thought Sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, I guess quite human inducement to be sure, I think.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hmmm, you’re not sure. You should really have those ears checked out, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“My ears are perfectly normal and let’s stick to the problem, shall we!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“All right, I’m all ears. No need to get upset. You’re just suffering from PNOAEP.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What,” said Sinister through gnashed teeth, “is PNOAEP?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Purposeful Neglect Of An Ear Problem, of course. It’s quite common. Sort of like the garden variety of denial. Let’s get back to your friend. Does he want any help?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Does it seem as if he wants any help?” said Sinister exasperated. This creature was really getting to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh alright, let’s play it by ear, shall we. Sorry, just an expression. No, frankly, he seems quite happy to be sad and guilty and remorseful. They usually are, I understand.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Can you help him?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well…it’s very difficult to treat. Most painful…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“But can you help him?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No. At least not without the elixir of the Beast of the Cave.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“And where is the elixir of the Beast of the Cave?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, I’d suppose it’s with the Beast of the Cave, wouldn’t you agree?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“And I suppose the Beast will not surrender this elixir, then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, no, not as far as I know. There have been those who tried, I know. They all came back alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Without the elixir of the Beast of the Cave, I suppose?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes. And with a strange new nervous affliction too. It seems that the Beast plays some kind of game and the one who loses must surrender his or her curiosity. The Beast has never lost.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Curiosity? Never mind, And you must have this elixir to help my friend?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh yes, definitely. Without the elixir there can be no hope of recovery for your friend, I’m afraid.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Where do I find this Beast of the Cave, or CuriousBeast thing?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Mathilda sighed a long protracted sigh of intense exasperation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Apparently I must spell it all out to you. The Beast of the Cave can be found in the Cave, where else?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister sighed a sigh of even more protracted proportions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Where…is…this…Cave?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, that I don’t know. Leave your friend here. Go find the Beast and bring the elixir to me. See you then.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With these words Mathilda ushered Sinister out of her office, closed the door with a slight bang and left no doubt that the interview was closed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Well, I guess I need to go and find that Beast then, thought Sinister dejectedly and walked out of Hucklenose’s House of Healing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-9236109945508983702006-11-04T13:33:00.000+02:002006-11-04T13:34:47.919+02:00Chapter 5 - The Town of Distant Relevance (4)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >J</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >ust then the voice boomed again: “Four million three hundred and twenty seven!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“See, we’ve just discovered another variation!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“And you say Hucklenose succumbed to this, uhm, terrible affliction?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes, poor Herbert developed several aids to help those with TTD. His most famous invention, the TTE, really made for better lives. Then he …”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wait! What is the TTE?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re new around here. The TTE, or TripleTickle Eliminator was a gadget powered by pedal power which added that extra arm so sorely needed to scratch inaccessible places. As I was saying, Herbert Hucklenose then developed the PTTE and this was an unfortunate mistake. The PTTE was the portable version of the TTE and one day he demonstrated his device in front of a large audience. Something went terribly wrong and Herbert couldn’t shut off the machine. He managed to identify another 376 variations of TTE and some even say that, at times, he hinted at a fourth and even a fifth simultaneous itch, but that could have been hallucinations, you know, before he finally succumbed, poor man. He was buried where he fell, still strapped to the PTTE. Today there is a monument to his honour built right there on the spot.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, we’re uhm, sorry to hear that,” said Sinister, uncomfortably.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, that’s all old history now, you know. But enough of that. You’re here because you need help. Wait, let me guess, you’re worried about those ears of yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What? No, no! Wait, what’s wrong with my ears?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, well, if they don’t bother you…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“We’re here because my friend is suffering from a terrible problem,” said Sinister quickly, trying to divert attention from his ears. What on earth could be wrong with them?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“And what exactly is your friend’s problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“He is suffering from a guilt experience, I think.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Ah, I see, IGS with Remorse. Come on into my office and let’s talk. This is quite a unique affliction. Not well-documented, I’m afraid but I do think there was an article in the Landscape Journal of Maladies and Maladaptations only last month.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-42581880126981969442006-11-01T16:09:00.000+02:002006-11-01T16:12:44.297+02:00Chapter 5 - The Town of Distant Relevance (3)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >I</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >nside they peered into the darkness, their eyes adjusting from the bright sunlight outside. Suddenly a voice boomed from the bowels of the earth:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Four million three hundred and twenty six!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >This seemed so normal for their surroundings that, apart from a slight jump, they quickly recovered and spotted a receptionist sitting behind what appeared to be a desk littered with crumpled pieces of paper.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hood hay, how hay hi help hou?” the receptionist proclaimed proudly but with some trouble. She seemed to have read her words from a piece of paper hidden below the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Er, what?” asked Sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“How hay hi help hou?” she persisted. “His here homething hong hith hou?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The curtains behind the receptionist opened and a middle-aged creature resembling a female appeared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Good day, dears,” she said in a soothing voice. “How may we help you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Er, your receptionist seems to be in need of help first, don’t you think?” said Sinister.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh no, she’s practising her ‘h’s’ today, that’s all. Here we try to teach all our staff the importance of semantics, picking up those hidden meanings behind the slightest slip of the tongue. The best way to do that is to become aware of how we take our language for granted. All her words will start with ‘h’ today. If she doesn’t slip up, we can move on to ‘i’ tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“How long has she been here, then?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, about two years now. But enough about us. How can we assist you.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, we’re here to see Hucklenose…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, my dears, you must be new in town! Dear Herbert Hucklenose passed away a number of years ago. TTD, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“TTD?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wow, you ARE new around here. Hucklenose first identified that terrible malady, TripleTickle Disease or TTD.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“And what is er, TripleTickle Disease?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“That’s quite easy to explain. It happens when you have three distinct anatomical areas of your body itching simultaneously. One of these areas is inaccessible to your own touch and, of course, having only two hands, you are unable to scratch all three places at the same time. Most annoying and frustrating.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“That’s TTD?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes, poor Hucklenose devoted his life to identifying all the variations of TTD. You know, one itch on the small of the back, one behind the knee, and one at the top of the head, and so forth. We have a team of devoted volunteers continuously exploring the different types of TTD.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-34057810145732593562006-10-28T19:01:00.000+02:002006-10-28T19:03:52.992+02:00Chapter 5 - The Town of Distant Relevance (2)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >T</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >he cobbled streets were noisy and lined with multi-coloured stalls where merchants were all trying to sell their wares to no avail.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“How much for that brass chandelier?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Now that’s a relevant question, dearie. Sorry, can’t answer, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Two streets up Dexter and Sinister turned left and immediately saw what the sailor meant with “funny building, can’t miss it”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >A cone-shaped building towered awkwardly up into the sky and what seemed like two wings protruded haphazardly from the walls. The building was painted a bright blue and had yellow circle-emblems stamped here and there. An imposing painting of a man strapped to a curious device filled most of what could be seen of the wall. The man appeared to be in agony, yet smiling. Under the garish colours it was difficult to spot any doors or windows.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >After a while they did spot a low door under one of the wing-like structures and made their way there. Large, soothing letters proclaimed this architect’s nightmare to be “<i style="">Hucklenose’s House of Healing – For those with TTD and any other D”</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With some trepidation Sinister opened the door and dragged Dexter in with him. Dexter seemed to know that he might be cured of his guilt in there and tried to resist, even spraying Sinister with some of his Disgusting Liquid and kicking against the doorway. But Sinister would have none of that. With a shove Dexter was propelled into Hucklenose’s House of Healing and into a dimly lit waiting room.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-69436626008226637472006-10-25T16:49:00.000+02:002006-10-25T16:53:19.146+02:00Chapter 5 - The Town of Distant Relevance<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >By the early afternoon the ship with its two “superhuman creatures” reached the port of the Town of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Distant Relevance</st1:place></st1:city>. The harbour was a scene of complete and utter chaos and bewilderment. It seemed as if no-one knew what they were supposed to be doing or where they were supposed to be going. Sailors bumped into traders and merchants who milled around confusedly. One wagon driver had seemingly given up and sat dejectedly in the middle of the street. Sinister glanced at Dexter to see if the chaos around him had any effect on him but was disappointed to see that he was still wrapped up in his remorse-stricken world. Dexter wasn’t getting any better, thought Sinister. He needed help.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister had exhorted all the silver he could from the panic-stricken crew of the ship who were only too glad to get rid of the “gods of the sea”. Once back on firm land they had started making their way through the confused hustle of the harbour. They needed to find a healer as soon as possible, realised Sinister, and the best place to find information is the nearest pub. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >They were soon seated at a corner table in The Relevant Pub, each with a foaming mug of Disgusting Liquid in front of them. They had never tasted Disgusting Liquid before and Sinister had thought that the attractive streaks of purple in the greenish jelly-like liquid appeared to be quite tasty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >He was wrong. The attractive purple streaks tasted particularly foul, only outclassed by the disgusting smell emanating from the greenish goo that trickled down one’s throat and landed with a sick thud in the stomach where it emitted a loud shriek of delight while it knotted the bowels into purplish bowties that Genie would have found disconcertingly familiar.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter had taken a straw with his and seemed to enjoy the agony that the Disgusting Liquid delivered, taking it as his just deserts. Sinister, however, invited a scruffy-looking sailor over to their table and handed him his Disgusting Liquid. The sailor sat down and started gulping the fluid eagerly. Perhaps the people in this town are raised on Disgusting Liquid, Sinister thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“So, any healers in this town, then?” asked Sinister nonchalantly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wha?” stuttered the sailor. “That’s a relevant question, mate. We’re not allowed to be relevant in this town. Ain’t you seen the rules?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister was taken aback. He hadn’t realised that the name of the town was so applicable. He recovered quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“But if my question is relevant and you’re not allowed to be relevant, then my question is not relevant to you and then you can answer it, can’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The sailor sat back, took a sip of Disgusting Liquid, pondered a while, his brows crinkled in concentration.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, now,“ he said with delight. “I do believe you’re absolutely right! Relevant questions are not relevant to me and therefore I CAN answer them! You’ll find the best healer at Hucklenose’s House of Healing. Two streets up, turn left, funny building, can’t miss it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister tossed some money on the table and they quickly left the pub, Dexter having taken an additional Disgusting Liquid in a Sealo-Fluid container.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-73516340616957446992006-10-21T11:54:00.000+02:002006-10-21T11:55:59.355+02:00Chapter 4 - The Guy (4)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“</span></b><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >L</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >ovely day for a swim, ain’t it, mates? You guys feelin’ up to it, hey? Don’t worry, it’ll all be over in a few secs. Seen it myself dozens of times, I have. Drop ‘em in the water, a few strokes, a few struggles and whammoh! They’s a goner. This is the best shark territory in the whole of Landscape’s seas, that’s a promise!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >So we’re still in Landscape, mused Sinister. That’s some good news. He would have hated to be inside one of King Incarnate’s sharks’ bellies. Come to think of it, he would hate to be inside one of King Blink’s sharks’ bellies! He’d better do something quickly! Casting a furtive look around, Sinister gauged their surroundings. It wasn’t a very big ship and apart from the sailor with them, he couldn’t see anyone else nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hey, listen, er, mate,” said Sinister. “Wouldn’t you like to experience those sharks firsthand? I mean, you sound like you’re always just the spectator. Probably been like that your whole life, hasn’t it? Always the on-looker. Never taking part. Your brothers and sisters getting all the action, all the attention from your parents. And oh, yes, we seem to have forgotten little Jimmy, that’s your name, isn’t it, doesn’t matter, we’ve forgotten little Jimmy at the mall again, oops, we’ll go and look for him after dinner, now don’t forget again dear…Aren’t you tired of being neglected, pushed to one side, never getting any cookies, er, rum, always watching others enjoying themselves, getting munched by ferocious sharks. Everyone always talking about the ‘others’? Oh, that one put up a real old struggle, didn’t he? Shark missed him twice, bet he’s gonna be there for a while. What about you? What about your feelings? No-one ever says ‘now that Jimmy, he’s thrown in more people than I could count the barrels of rum I’ve drunk in my entire life! It’s time you claim your rightful place in the history of the high-seas! Go on in! Give them sharks all you’ve got!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Having ended on this high note, slightly embarrassed by the shrill sound of his own excited voice, Sinister peered expectantly at the sailor. He seemed somewhat bewildered by this outbreak, probably more used to his victims simpering for mercy. Then the full impact of Sinister’s words hit him like a tidal wave and with a last desperate look around the deck he cast himself into the sea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The next moment Dexter and Sinister were surrounded by sailors.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You did that to Crazy Jimmy?” asked one incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“His name really was Jimmy?” asked Sinister and then quickly recovered. “Well, yes, he, er, uhm, asked for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You must be superhuman heroes sent from the depths of the seas!” exclaimed another and soon the sailors were all cowering against the mast. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Leave us! You are sea gods in disguise! Oh mummy!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Then take us to the nearest port!” commanded Sinister. “And bring me a deckchair and daiquiri with a little umbrella in it!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Soon Dexter and Sinister were ensconced in deck chairs, sunbathing, cocktails in their hands. Dexter seems to be recovering, thought Sinister, but perhaps he’d have to take him to a healer as soon as they’d landed. But for now he’d just enjoy the ride!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-29502102345321895462006-10-16T17:59:00.000+02:002006-10-16T18:00:49.908+02:00Chapter 4 - The Guy (3)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >S</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >inister improved on his previous sigh. He’d have to get them out of this mess all by himself. He had to assess their circumstances. They were on a ship, somewhere way out on the open seas. It was probably already dark outside and he’d no idea where they were headed. All in all not a bad assessment, thought Sinister. He could have used a few more adjectives though. Perhaps something like “inhumanely chained up in a rotting cell” and “suffering most profusely” and “headed for disaster at the hands of calculating killers” would have brought over his thoughts more clearly, he mused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Bottom-line, they were stuck and they were in trouble. They needed to escape. Perhaps that crossbow and arrows in the corner could help them! No, he was just kidding himself. There weren’t any crossbow and arrows in the corner and they couldn’t reach the trapdoor high above their heads even had there been a crossbow and arrows, which, as we have ascertained, there weren’t. Perhaps he should sleep on it, thought Sinister and promptly did so.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >oooOOooo<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >It was almost certainly early morning when Sinister awoke but the hold was as dark as ever. The ship appeared to have anchored sometime during the night and the faint sound of small waves lapping against the hull could probably have been heard had they been outside on the deck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Suddenly the trapdoor above them opened and a cruel sailor’s face peered down. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Come on up lads!” he shouted cheerfully. “You’re free to go!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What?” Sinister shouted. He couldn’t believe they were free! <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“We’re free to go?” he asked incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Nah, mate, I was only kidding. Like to brighten up prisoners’ faces before feeding ‘em to the sharks, eh what! Grab the rope-ladder!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The ladder was thrown down and, realising they couldn’t stay down there forever, Sinister grabbed Dexter by the arm and pulled him up the ladder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The sun was shining brightly and the ocean was a peaceful calm as far as the eye could see when they reached the deck. The sailor was beaming at them, an evil glint in his eye.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-8584211614219487582006-10-13T19:50:00.000+02:002006-10-13T19:52:41.647+02:00Chapter 4 - The Guy (2)<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >T</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >hus, yet again, this great chronicle may have ended and passed into obscurity. Genie would have faded away into insignificance and Landscape would have been doomed to perpetual misery under the iron rule of King Incarnate. Life would have sucked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Luckily this didn’t happen. Thanks solely and foremost to Sinister’s reputation for stupidity Landscape and its inhabitants gained another chance at reprieve. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;" align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >ooOOoo<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Guy was never one to do things by half. Soon Dexter and Sinister, having been bumped around in the back of a covered wagon with nothing to drink or eat for ages, were dragged onto a waiting ship and thrown into a dark, damp, and smelly storage hold. Dexter still suffered from The Guy’s persuasive prowess but Sinister was calmly surveying their quarters. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“A bit stuck now, aren’t we?” muttered Sinister lazily, the blade of grass still limply protruding from the edge of his mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Uh, eh?” replied Dexter. He did not quite seem to know where he was and, quite frankly, he seemed to be relieved by the fact. Sinister gave Dexter up as a bad idea and continued his examination of the hold. The smell alone would have put King Incarnate’s socks to shame. That aside, the walls dripped despair and all was eerily quiet, except for a sailor merrily whistling somewhere far up above.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >It seemed as if the ship had gone underway. If only he knew where they were headed, Sinister thought. If only he knew why his head suddenly felt so clear and full of clever things. Perhaps it was caused by the fall from the sky? Sinister gingerly felt his head and his hand met with a large lump at the back of his skull. His hypothesis now tentatively confirmed, he felt better and sat down to feel sorry for himself. He never wanted to be clever. Life suddenly seemed so confusing. He’d got all these worries whirling through his head…the meaning of life, the alcohol content of Dumbstruck, the outcome of their journey, how they would escape The Guy’s clutches…<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister gave himself up to a huge sigh and glanced at Dexter. He was not altogether sure he liked what he saw. Dexter was busy writing a confession on a small piece of paper, all the while chewing a grubby pencil and whispering incoherently to himself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I wish to express the deepest condolences to the families of all the ants I’ve ever trodden on…no…no…I’m a bad, bad person…I deserve to be keelhauled and quartered and served on a platter to the lowest bidder…no…too good for me by far…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-79920659577720359112006-10-06T19:55:00.000+02:002006-10-06T19:56:40.871+02:00Chapter 4 - The Guy<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >It might have been the following afternoon when at last they woke up, but it wasn’t. About ten minutes after dropping into an exhausted sleep, they were roughly shaken awake by some burly storks with menacing dark glasses.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Who are you?” demanded Dexter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >No-one spoke and they were stork-handled to a large clearing in the woods. First they saw Stork Seven-Three-Seven, lying in the middle of the clearing as dead as before. Then they saw The Guy. They had no difficulty recognizing him. The Guy always wore a cape, dark glasses and black leather gloves. Everyone was afraid of him. In fact, the Daily Landscape newspaper once launched a survey to find out how many people were not afraid of him. They’re still waiting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Guy was a professional all-rounder who sold his talents to the highest bidder. Usually his skills were required for unlawful business and whenever the business on hand was lawful, The Guy made sure to take it into the unlawful realm at the earliest possible occasion. It was just plain bad luck for Dexter and Sinister that this was the earliest possible occasion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Guy was thoughtfully gazing down at them as they were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground. In his hand he held a horse whip which he menacingly tapped against his leg. He appeared to be pondering something, probably the most drawn out way of bringing about their demise, thought Dexter. He tried his best to return The Guy’s gaze with an icy stare but barely managed to keep his bladder in control. Sinister was nonchalantly chewing on a blade of grass. As long as they weren’t in the air, he was sure nothing bad could happen, his attitude seemed to say.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Guy spoke. Quite reasonably, thought Dexter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You were flying on Stork-Seven-Three-Seven?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No,” replied Dexter immediately and truthfully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“NOT!” thundered The Guy. “You were seen leaving the runway with Stork-Seven-Three-Seven and you were found with the body of Stork-Seven-Three-Seven, and yet, and yet, you deny flying on Stork-Seven-Three-Seven?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes,” replied Dexter. “We were flying with Stork-Seven-Three-Seven but under him, not on him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“In the baggage compartment?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“As a matter of fact, yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Stowaways!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No! Sub-Economy Class!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“There is no such class. You lie!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, really, we did. We have tickets…er…had tickets…the air-hostess took them.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I don’t see an air-hostess. You lie!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“She left! She left with the rage.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You are lying. You hi-jacked Stork-Seven-Three-Seven and diverted his path to the woods far from his flight plan. He bravely put up resistance and you killed him, not realising that you would fall if he were dead! Oh yes, we know all about you Dexter and Sinister. You just about don’t have the intelligence to realise that a dead stork can’t fly.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No. You’re wrong!” muttered Dexter but strangely enough he felt as if that must have been exactly how it happened. Maybe they did hijack the flight. Maybe they killed the stork. Yes, they wouldn’t realise that a dead stork can’t fly. Dexter giggled. Yes, that’s exactly how it had happened. Suddenly he felt much relieved at having arrived at the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Guy had Dexter under his control. One of his infamous qualities was the ability to make a subject believe whatever was told to him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Only Sinister wasn’t taken in. The Guy had made a mistake. Thinking that Sinister was too stupid to be of any consequence he had focused all his convincing powers onto Dexter. Sinister calmly continued chewing on his blade of grass.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You will be taken to a place of keeping where you will remain until such time as the court would hear your evidence,” droned The Guy. He had done yet another fine job, he felt. These fools could never finish their journey in time. Everything had worked out just fine. They would never even see the inside of a court room.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh thank you,” breathed Dexter and promptly passed out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-16740392674887254032006-10-04T21:01:00.000+02:002006-10-04T21:02:44.725+02:00Chapter 3 - A Flying Start (5)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >It</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" > might have ended here and this story might have come to a rather sad and abrupt end. But it didn’t. Storky’s Quality flyer managed to get itself upright and started flapping its wings frantically. It seemed to work. They were still falling but at least they weren’t plummeting anymore. The flyer even managed to send out a distress signal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Mayday! Mayday!” shouted the stork. “We’ve lost all left-wing feathers! Tail-feathers are disintegrating! There’s something in my eye! Oh no! There’s something in my eye! I can’t breathe! Help! Help! Nurse! Oxygen mask! Oxygen mask! We’re a goner-zero! I repeat, we’re a goner-zero! We’ll have to make an emergency landing!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Emergency landing?” shouted-asked Sinister, his eyes tightly shut.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Crash landing, you idiot! We’re about to crash!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh no! Crash! We’re about to crash! Somebody help! The ground hasn’t done anything. We don’t need to hit it! Where are the crash barriers?!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >By now the wind was screaming past and the stork had ceased to flap his wings. They were yet again simply tearing at the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Suddenly they were not tearing at the ground anymore. They’d hit it. Luckily for Dexter and Sinister the stork had hit the ground beak first, tail in the air. They were all right, apart from several traumatic images that were burned into their brains forever. So the tail-end really is the safest place to be during a crash, thought Dexter, reminded of the survivor stories he’d read in <i style="">‘101 Ways to Miss the Ground and Keep the Longing at Bay’</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Stork Seven-Three-Seven, however, had left the here-and-now and was at this moment happily flapping away in a world where flying into a rage was simply a saying. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter and Sinister looked at one another speechlessly, then at the woods surrounding them on all sides and then both collapsed into an exhausted sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-3874431225393559692006-10-01T09:15:00.000+02:002006-10-01T09:18:51.688+02:00Chapter 3 - A Flying Start (4)<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“W</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >ell, at least the flyer took us under his wing,” said Sinister darkly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Winged words,” mumbled Dexter. “Let’s just hope this flyer gets us into the air and stays up there.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Gentlemen, we’re cleared for take-off,” announced the flyer importantly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wait! Wait!” cried Dexter. “There are no other passengers. Why can’t we sit on top?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Sorry, sir, it’s company policy. You’ve paid for Sub-Economy class seats and therefore that’s where you’ll sit. You luggage will be carried on top, however, because you are now occupying the space usually taken by the luggage,” replied the stewardess with a cool and efficient smile that defied arguing. “Passengers occupying the Sub-Economy class seats are requested not to smoke or sneeze, as this tickles the flyer’s tail feathers and may upset his already delicate mental state.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The flyer cleared its throat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“As I’ve said before, we’re cleared for take-off and will now try and do so.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Try? What does he mean ‘try’?” whispered Sinister urgently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Gentlemen, please! I need absolute silence before taking flight. This requires some skill and concentration and lots of luck. Please extinguish all forms of chatter, negative remarks and criticism. My therapist expressly forbade me to come into contact with people who criticised me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With this, the flyer started running down the runway, flapping its wings furiously. At last it lifted from the ground, only to crash down again. Not put off, it started running again, flapping its wings even more furiously than before. By this time Dexter and Sinister had their eyes tightly shut and were hanging on for dear life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >After a while, once the worst jostling had stopped, Sinister managed to open one eye, just to close it tightly again.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Dex! Don’t look now but we’re in the air – very high up in the air!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter opened his eyes and looked. He closed his eyes again. He had just discovered that he had a fear of heights and this was a height.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Could you fly a bit less bumpily?” he asked in a quivering voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What’s that?” shouted the stork.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I said, could you try to smooth out your flying a bit!” shouted Dexter and even opened his eyes. Then he shut them even more tightly than before. He had just seen a very disconcerting sight. The flyer also had his eyes closed!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Open you eyes! Open your eyes!” he shouted to the flyer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No! I couldn’t! We’re hitting air pockets and I’m nauseous and I want to go home and I’m afraid of heights! Oh no! We’re going to die! We’re all going to die!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Feather-brain,” murmured Dexter and shut himself off by closing his eyes. He was beyond the point of panicking and Sinister seemed to have retreated into a world of his own, only occasionally muttering ‘Told you so.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh no! I’m flying into a rage!” shouted the flyer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No!” shouted Dexter, afraid of having upset the flyer even more. “I’m not angry! Just a little bit upset, that’s all!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! I said we’re flying into a rage! Look ahead of us!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter looked. Right in front of them was a fast-approaching whirlwind. It was brown with dust and looked particularly unhappy about their crossing his path. Rages have been known to be the worst enemy of the flyer and this one seemed to epitomize this fact very clearly. Strangely enough however, rages were also known as the sirens of the skies. They had the uncanny ability to seduce female passengers and airhostesses who would invariably go off with them after the rages had caused an air disaster.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >This rage was clearly intent on causing an air disaster. Within seconds they were caught up by the whirlwind. It spun and whirled and flung them around and, having determined them all to be male, the rage left them hanging there in the air, while happily making off with the airhostess.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Hanging, without utilizing some form of support, invariably leads to falling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Thus they plummeted to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-80691079308492295042006-09-28T13:22:00.000+02:002006-09-28T13:23:01.141+02:00Chapter 3 - A Flying Start (3)<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >A</span><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >s it turned out, they didn’t have enough money for an economy class flight. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I’m sorry, sir,” said The Stork Behind The Counter. “We had to raise our prices because of the shortage of edibles for our flyers. And since that unfortunate accident when our top-flyer crashed into the barbed-wire fence with a total loss of lives, we’ve lost a lot of customers. There are a lot of vicious rumours going round that he wasn’t qualified for above-cloud flying and that he was flying under the influence. Oh but sober flyers are so difficult to find nowadays!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Crashing? Influence? Maybe we should walk, Dex,” said Sinister, suddenly not at all keen on using Storky’s Quality Flyers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Nonsense! We’ll be safe, I’m sure. What is the cheapest airfare you have?” inquired Dexter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, sir, let’s see. Currently we have a special we’ve just started for low-budget customers. We call it Sub-economy class. That’s the cheapest we have.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“We’ll take it! cried Dexter excitedly. “How much?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“That will be A Lot of Silver, sir,” replied The Stork Behind The Counter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter paid over A Lot of Silver and saw with alarm that he had only A Bit of Silver left. The stork handed over the tickets and said “The next flight will attempt to leave in ten minutes, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Attempt to leave?” stuttered Sinister, now clearly terrified. “Dex, please, I’ve got an awful feeling about this.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, come, you’re not afraid of a little flying are you?” teased Dexter, mostly to hide his own discomfort because he too had a bad feeling about their proposed aerial adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >They started walking towards the airfield but were soon stopped by the same stork, now hurriedly dressed as a customs official. With a stern look on his face, the stork threw a feathered arm into the air and glared down at them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“One moment! Anything to declare?” he bellowed in an authorative voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >They showed him their bags and he searched it closely. The Amazing Eyewear System seemed to intrigue him but not surprisingly he found nothing when he put the glasses on. Reluctantly he handed their bags back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Got to be sure, you know,” he grunted. “We’ve had a few passengers trying to hi-jack our flyers and others trying to smuggle babies across the border. There’s a huge market for Landscape babies in Portrait. They say King Incarnate is trying to bring down the level of intelligence of his people. Keeps them from trying to seize the crown from him, I suppose.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >After these formalities, they reached their flyer. It was a huge stork with lovely long wings and a strip of chairs fastened to his back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Hey, how are you man?” asked Sinister, hoping to befriend Flier Stork-Seven-Three-Seven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Oh, okay, I guess. I’m not feeling too great today. A bit under the wing, to be sure. My therapist says that I should let go of all the anger and hurt inside and realise my true potential. I’m depressed and phobic, he said. But I’m cured, I really am. I’ve almost completely lost my fear of heights.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“This way, gentlemen”, intervened a stewardess, a young stork, saving them from further disheartening discussions with their flyer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >‘This way’ turned out to be under the stork’s body. Just behind its legs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wait! This can’t be right! Isn’t this the baggage compartment?” asked Dexter nervously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, sir, this is quite right. Your tickets quite clearly state, ‘Sub-economy’ and therefore you must sit under the Economy class, which is on top in front of the tail feathers”, replied the stewardess with a sympathetic smile and a firm, icy voice, reminiscent of a nurse. “Enjoy your flight!” She left before they could say another word.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-75114481467983213842006-09-25T17:28:00.000+02:002006-09-25T17:29:55.228+02:00Chapter 3 - A Flying Start (2)<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sighing at the thought of the Amazing Eyewear System, Dexter now rummaged through his bag and dragged out a rather torn and dirty map. They had to find the most direct route to King Incarnate’s castle, which was conveniently situated close to a border of Landscape. Unfortunately this was the border furthest away from where they were.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I think we should cut through in a westerly direction,” said Dexter, and traced a route on the map with his finger that would take them across a mountain, through a forest and then over some uncharted territory. “Let’s get going.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With these words, the two would-be heroes set off on their journey. There were no crowds cheering them off, no last fond farewells or words of wisdom and encouragement. Only old MacTantrum, Inventor of Opposable Tongues, saw them go and ran excitedly into his house to add their departure to his list of unremarkable occurrences devoid of interesting features.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >oooOOooo<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter and Sinister took the only road out of Blinkburg, trudging along unhappily. The future looked bleak, mused Dexter, and to top it all his feet hurt already and they had barely set off. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Soon Dexter murmured, “It’s this walking that gets to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What was that?” asked Sinister, whose thoughts had been engaged by the intricacies of moving his limbs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I said this walking gets to me,” replied Dexter, rather irritably. If he was going to have to repeat everything throughout this journey, he’d …<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“We could fly,“ Sinister remarked casually. “Could be faster, you know.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter stared in surprise. The boy had hidden depths to him!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Of course, Sinister! You’re right! We’ll take the next turnoff and head down to Storkfield. I’m sure we’ve got enough money for an economy class flight!”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-31289296790161715612006-09-21T18:53:00.000+02:002006-09-21T18:54:45.852+02:00Chapter 3 - A Flying Start<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“We might do some packing” suggested Dexter after Genius and Tom had left, the last with a cheerful “Cheerio! See ya!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With a grunt Sinister agreed. He was content to leave the details to Dexter. Dexter sighed. Here he was, going off on some stupid journey to recover a lamp which was probably lying buried in a murky cupboard in King Incarnate’s cellar between some socks of questionable odour, and that with a companion who would probably only grasp the purpose of the journey when they had returned from it. If they ever returned from it…<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Now there’s food for philosophical thought, thought Dexter. What use would going on a journey be if Sinister would only grasp it after they had returned? More specifically, what use would Sinister be on a journey if he didn’t grasp the point of going on a journey? Ultimately, if they never returned from the journey, Sinister would probably never know why he had had to go on the journey in the first place. That brings up another interesting point of whether or not they couldn’t just pretend having gone on the journey and then find out whether Sinister had grasped the reason for the journey they had never gone on. With another sigh, Dexter gave up this line of reasoning before it became too tempting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Instead he asked with some trepidation: “Sinister, you do know why we are going on this journey, don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister blinked in much the same way that the king did a short while ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yeah, sure. We’re going to find some lamp…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter gave a sigh of relief. Maybe there was some hope left for the kid.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“…but we must remember some matches. Otherwise we’ll never be able to light it. And if we can’t light it, we’ll never be able to find it if we have to search for it in the dark,” continued Sinister proudly and beamed at the thought of his own cleverness at thinking so far ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >ooOOoo<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Almost two hours and twenty three minutes later they were ready to leave. In his bag Dexter had an amazing secret gadget that Genie had given him a few hours ago. At first he’d thought it was a pair of spectacles but Genie had been shocked at the mere idea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“These are not just spectacles,” he had exclaimed. “These are so much more than just spectacles. You’re looking at a complete eyewear system, the likes of which you’ve never seen before. With these spectacles, developed through years of painstaking research by a team of devoted King Blink followers, led by the Darn Duke Dimwit himself, you can look right through things! Go on, put them on.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Curious, Dexter had put the spectacles on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“I see nothing,” he’d exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“That’s right! You’re seeing through absolutely everything, right into nothingness! Amazing, isn’t it? You can see…nothing!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed,” Dexter had mumbled politely.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Use it often. You don’t want to miss anything!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“There’s nothing to miss,” Dexter had grumbled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-69320662409913817232006-09-18T17:50:00.000+02:002006-09-18T17:51:12.899+02:00Chapter 2 - Tom's Foolery (4)<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" ><span style=""> </span><span lang="EN-GB">Without being unduly prejudiced and with the agreement that these opinions are subject to change without prior notice or any good reason, let’s survey the two agents of Landscape’s elite secret organisation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Dexter was of average height, whatever that may mean. He was a bit touchy about his length and no-one dared call him Shorty without being armed to the teeth – except his mother, of course. Dexter had the third highest intelligence in Landscape, after Genius and Tom. He was a serious young man and had been a serious young child. He had suffered no early childhood traumas and had developed no curious fixations although he tended to be melancholy about his Bonny over the ocean at times. No-one knew what he was talking about. Apart from this idiosyncrasy, Dexter lived an average life. He played a round of golf frequently and only cheated now and then. He loved reading comics, especially Garglefield, and his favourite drink was Slap in the Face. Slap in the Face is a rather interesting drink. The potential drinker would walk up to a person of the opposite sex and make a suggestive, offensive, rude remark about something very personal of that person. The latter would respond by slapping the insulting potential drinker several times through the face after which both would apologise profusely and exchange drinks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Sinister was the exact opposite of Dexter. He was tall with extremely long arms and huge hands. Sinister had the third lowest intelligence in Landscape, before Grue and the Queen’s Corgi, now sadly deceased. He had been dumb as a child and he was dumb as an adult. If he had suffered any life-changing traumas at an early stage he had been too dim-witted to realise it. Sinister had no interests, except that of breathing although Dexter sometimes asked Sinister to caddy for him. His favourite drink was Dumbstruck. Dumbstruck, a drink now abolished in most countries, was a very intelligent beverage. It had the ability to rush straight to the drinker’s brain, paralysing all the cells in its path for an indeterminate period of time. In Sinister’s case it had little effect, as there weren’t that many cells to start with. If any sinister meanings had been attached to his name, Sinister would have been the last to hear of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Tom and Genius quietly went up to Dexter and Sinister and persuaded them to leave their favourite pastime for a few moments. Together they went into The Drowning Duck, a quiet pub, empty because of the crowd in front and behind the club across the street, but hopeful that the screamers will soon need alcoholic refreshment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >They talked throughout the night, mostly because Sinister had difficulty grasping the object of their quest. At last, when the birds started singing and little animals came crawling from their homes in search of a place to relieve themselves (usually another animal’s home), Dexter and Sinister agreed to the great task placed before them. Were they thrilled at the prospect of leaving peace, tranquillity, boredom and strangely closed nightclubs, to go searching for something that would most probably get them killed? We shall never know. What we do know, was that words were whispered by Tom that brought up images of marriage to Grue. Was this blackmail? Yes, but for the sake of peace, tranquillity and boredom, we shall call, it Reasonable Persuasion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Thus reasonably persuaded, Dexter and Sinister prepared to leave on their quest for the Genie’s lamp.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-80292729585593675002006-09-15T17:01:00.000+02:002006-09-15T17:02:19.812+02:00Chapter 2 - Tom's Foolery (3)<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Somewhere at Large had been built recently and everyone and anyone hoped to be seen screaming at the entrance, trying to gain entry. As yet, no-one had gained entry and speculation as to whether the club was in fact open, was a popular pastime in Blinkburg. Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning taciturn, dark-clothed individuals were seen quietly leaving the back entrance of the club and this had opened an interesting line of speculation regarding the possibility that the back entrance was really the main entrance. A cult group, The Backseaters, had been formed and they spread this rather revolutionary thought far and wide. Their pamphlet, ‘<i>Back is better – Could you afford to be in front</i>?’ and campaign slogan <i style="">‘Forerunners are backstabbers’</i> have already won the highest literary award in Landscape, the Plucky.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The Plucky was an award not easily earned. Famous writers, poets, and journalists competed unceasingly for the annual Plucky nominations. Small wonder then that The Backseaters and their enigmatic leader, Slimbo Slink, He Who Tells You What You Want To Hear, soon faced an opposition cult group, Up Front, who published their manifesto, <i style="">‘Front and Center – We’ll back you’</i> in response to the Plucky award won by The Backseaters. In the literary world, however, it was rumoured that Up Front was just a front for PAPA (People Against Plucky Awards), leading to one columnist writing a fiery article headed <i style="">‘PAPA don’t preach’</i>.<i style=""> </i><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The street in front of Somewhere at Large was packed with people, many waving placards telling the world in no uncertain terms about the cult they followed. Despite the throng it didn’t take long to spot Dexter and Sinister. Dexter was peacefully sitting in a tree, eating a burger at the Burger Branch while Sinister was screaming and yelling hysterically at the closed main entrance, along with other non-converted wannabe club-goers. It was clear that they had been there for quite a while and had no intention of leaving soon. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Tom and Genius regarded them doubtfully. Was this to be Landscape’s salvation? Could this be the pride and joy, the cream of the crop? Tom and Genius had a right to be doubtful of the would-be saviours of Landscape. The sight of Dexter and Sinister inspired more sentences starting with “homeless and helpless” than with “calm and composed”.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >For the sake of the reputation of all of Landscape it would perhaps be better for these agents to remain very, very secret, thought Tom. He recalled a sentence he had read about <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place> in the newspaper article: <i style="">“In choosing these agents a rigid selection process was followed whereby the hunks were separated from the skunks.” </i>They obviously had other plans for the hunks…<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-44193062575235486552006-09-12T19:49:00.000+02:002006-09-12T19:51:28.014+02:00Chapter 2 - Tom's Foolery (2)<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Thus Tom and Genius wearily set off to Somewhere at Large, the biggest night club in Blinkburg, the capital city of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Landscape</st1:city></st1:place>. Imagine “dull”, then multiply it by “boring”, add "mind-numbing", throw in a dose of "monotonous" and stir listlessly and you’d have a pretty accurate picture of Blinkburg. The only highlight about knowing Blinkburg was that you could forget it without worrying that you did. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Just when the imposing, yet uninspired building of Somewhere at Large loomed in the distance their attention was drawn to movement in a dark alleyway. Moving closer they saw absolutely nothing. For a moment they thought they hadn’t seen the ghost of Glassface Gwen, She of the Broken Neck, and then realised that, indeed, they hadn’t. They did hear a voice, though.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Psst!!” said the dark. “Psst. Over here. You must be spoken to.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wait,” said Genius as Tom was about to enter the dark passage. “Don’t be foolish. What if we’re robbed? It could be a trap.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >But Tom was already heading into the alley. With a sigh Genius followed, already imagining himself vaporising into a cloud of strawberry-flavoured smoke. Genius needn’t have worried. It was only the old hag, Maggie, She of the Passive Voice, who was trying to persuade them to enter her ‘consulting room’, as she liked to call it. Resistance was futile and moments later they were sitting around Maggie’s ‘consulting table’, staring dubiously into a misty crystal ball. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“So, and what have you been brought here for?” enquired Maggie in her most mysterious voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Well, you called us, didn’t you?” answered Tom. He was already regretting the impulse which brought him there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You were brought here by Fate and your future will now be told,” whispered Maggie and peered short-sightedly into the crystal ball.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Suddenly she jumped.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No! A terrible thing is seen! It cannot be gazed upon! No!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What? What do you see? What’s going to happen?” enquired Genius anxiously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“What? Oh, sorry. The wrong crystal ball channel was displayed. Grue appeared. My crystal ball channel subscription must really be renewed. Until then, a random channel is displayed every now and then.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“You wanted to tell us about our future…” prompted Tom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes, yes, the crystal ball will be gazed upon once again. Ahh, yes, I am spoken to from the murky depths. There will be a happening of things…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No, really?” mumbled Tom. “Could’ve fooled me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Silence! A road is revealed. One that is travelled…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Will the surprises never end…” murmured Tom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Wait!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes?” Tom had decided to play along.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“More is available. Much, much more.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“For a limited time only, if my palm is now crossed with sufficient silver, the future can be revealed to you. You will also receive your very own mini crystal ball key-ring and matching earrings…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Come, Tom,” said Genius and pulled Tom out into the alleyway. They had just wasted precious time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“No! No! Really important futures must be foretold!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Don’t worry. We’ll soon know what we’re missing now,” said Genius. If we live that long, he thought to himself.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" ><br /></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-968488836240727922006-09-09T08:57:00.000+02:002006-09-09T09:02:38.802+02:00Chapter 2 - Tom's Foolery<p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">Tom and Genius left the great hall together, both a bit disappointed in their king. The retrieval of the lamp was now in the hands of the Genius and the Fool. This could not bode well for the success of the mission. In fact, the king’s statisticians had already calculated the chances of failure to be 99.9%. This figure had been passed down to the gambling houses and bets were being placed at a furious rate. The national lottery was being restructured to incorporate the Great Retrieval and T-shirts and caps had been printed with the lines <span style="font-style: italic;">‘Sorry you won’t be around for Christmas’</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">Every now and then brilliant ideas dawn upon people, sometimes slowly, sometimes like a flash of lightning. This did not happen to either Tom or Genius. Something else did strike them very suddenly and unpleasantly, though. They had no idea where to find <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>! The organisation was so secret that apparently no written record existed anywhere. The king had wanted it to be absolutely secret. Now it’s so secret that even its members did not know about their membership.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">‘That’s it!’ thought Tom. He had just remembered that there was a front page article on <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place> in a prominent newspaper. Now to remember which one. It wasn’t the Scapegoat – that had the article ‘<i>Grue cracks another mirror - Telekinesis or plain ugliness?</i>’. It couldn’t have been Blink’s Bugle – that featured the ‘<i style="">Do you know how to complete a quiz?</i>’ quiz. Yes! He’d got it! It was in the Daily Echo! ‘<i>YAP to be Landscape’s secret – Member biographies and interviews’</i><span style="">.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">With renewed hope Tom and Genius set off for the offices of the Daily Echo newspaper. Blinkburg was abuzz with the news of the missing lamp and posters had been put up stating <i style="">‘Have you seen this lamp? Me neither’</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">It was the full story they found some time later in the archive rooms of the Daily Echo. Ed, He Who Wished His Parents Had Called Him Bob, the editor, gave them permission to read the archives in exchange for a juicy story on the missing dog. The newspaper article really had it all. It gave full names and addresses of all the members of <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">After some intensive reading both Tom and Genius decided that only two names on the list could be useful. This they knew because the other names were obvious fabrications by the reporter. It didn’t take a genius, nor a fool, for that matter, to quickly realise that no-one by the name of James Bond could ever be a secret agent. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">Tom and Genius therefore unerringly picked the two real names from the list. They were Dexter and Sinister, the two best agents in Landscape; the two only agents in Landscape. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoBodyText" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;" lang="EN-GB">To their disappointment Tom and Genius didn’t find Dexter or Sinister at home. They were neighbours and also close friends and it stood to reason that they would be found around Somewhere at Large.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814888374405856330.post-26868715138825648482006-08-31T20:23:00.000+02:002006-08-31T20:25:23.968+02:00Chapter 1 - The King Didn't Make a Decision (4)<span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" ><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Your Agents of Peace, Your Majestic Brilliance. You formed it two years ago as Landscape’s secret service after you had seen the movie From Portrait with Love. The agents haven’t been active as yet. Now would be a good time to see how good they really are.”<o:p></o:p></span></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >The King dwelled on this for a little while. Attendants wiped his brow carefully with cloths bathed in rose water. Then his brow cleared and everyone knew that this was a momentous occasion, for King Blink the Very First etcetera did not make up his mind too easily. That might be why there are whisperings that he might become King Blink the Very Last if he and the Queen didn’t make up their mind about having a try at getting a baby boy. On the other hand, no-one could blame them for giving up after Grue had seen the light.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >With a motion of his bejewelled hand the king indicated that he was about to say something that should definitely be recorded for future generations. Scribbler gripped his pen tightly and swallowed a tranquilizer. Then King Blink stood up, gazed benevolently at his followers, blinked, opened his mouth, and promptly sat down again. He had just realised something of national importance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >While Scribbler wondered whether he should record the opening of the king’s mouth as a “-“ or an “a” or “!” or not at all, King Blink sat immobile, thinking furiously. He absolutely must have an appropriate opening line for his historic speech. It should captivate the reader right from the start, he thought. It should leave him eager to read more. In his mind’s eye the king could already see future generations reading his speech over and over, drinking in every line and learning it off by heart.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >At last he stood up and said: “Someone go fetch YUCK!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Er, Your Highness,” said Tom. “Didn’t your Illustriousness mean <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“<st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>! <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>! <st1:place st="on">YAP</st1:place>! That’s what I said!” barked the king. He was thoroughly tired of the whole business. He wished he weren’t king. He wished he had another cook. He wished he didn’t have a daughter like Grue. In fact, he wished he were safely tucked away in his hunting lodge, one with nature, and far away from everything a king wouldn’t desire. He made a quick decision.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >“Tom! Organise the retrieval of Genius’s lamp and let me know when that’s done. I’ll be at the White Burrow, doing some hunting of defenceless furry animals.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >These words didn’t come as a surprise to the crowd. The king was known to disappear in times of trouble. Scribbler simply scratched out the last few recorded sentences. He would send the recorded speech to the King’s creative crew who would invent a totally fictitious speech and fabricate a heroic adventure in which the king played a prominent role.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" lang="EN-GB" >Thus ended King Blink’s part in the retrieval of Genius’s lamp. He was gone within the hour and all that remained of him was his echo saying “some hunting” over and over again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:10;">Thus began Tom the Fool’s part in the Great Retrieval, as it has since become known in the folklore of that great country Landscape.<br /><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="<$BlogSiteFeedUrl$>" title="Atom feed">Site Feed</a></div>Gerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08418511240245100804noreply@blogger.com3