I Wish I Knew What Was Going On Here!

Well it seems that the girl remembers very little at this point, not why she was running or where to find anyone who may be able to help her. Her name is Bella, but beyond that she doesn't recall anything else about herself. I've just started to called her Bella Argyle because of those very distinctive pants she wears. I figured that an evening during the summer season always causes me to remember things past, perhaps it would work with Bella as well? We took a walk after dinner and as she went she seemed to at least be calm. For you see, she has been terribly disturbed by the fact that she recalls so little. Anyway we continued on our way down the road when we approached an area of road that was covered by trees. A stream runs under a small bridge just as one crosses over into that section of road. We caught the smell of the forest and she gasped. “I know this place.” Suddenly she ran to the stream and took off her shoes. She cautiously slid her feet into the water. The stream immediately began to foam and up from the waters shot an imp-like creature. “Bella.” He snorted. “What brings you here?”

She spoke quietly as she shook her head. “Boswell, I recall you but not why...” “Why what?” Boswell asked. “Why you are here, or why I remember this place, but I know it is important as are you.” Boswell grinned. “So you can't remember dear Bella?” “No.” She replied, distressed. Boswell clapped his wet hands together. “Ah you are and I are both in fortunate situations. For I can help you remember most of everything you may have forgotten!” At this Bella smiled. “But what do you gain from that?” I interrupted. He looked at me and snorted again. “Well it just so happens that I am under a curse and YOU, my dear, are the only one who can break it.” Bella's smile faded. “But Boswell I don't remember anything, how can I break your curse?” “I can tell you exactly what to do, but, but it has to be you that does it, and not me.” He explained. She shrugged her shoulders. “Great!” He answered as he clapped his hands together again. “Now, first things first. The game.” “Game?” I asked. “Yes the game, Misty Maple...” “Misty Maple!” Bella exclaimed, “I remember that game for some reason, but not why it's important...” “Oh.” Boswell looked a bit put out by this turn of events. “You know remember how to play?” He shrugged his shoulders and pointed at me. “He can do it....er...HAS to do it.” Bella glanced over. “Why must he do it, if I'm to break the curse?” “Thems the rules, first we've got to play a game and then you come back tomorrow and finish breaking my curse.” “Tomorrow? But what about telling me who I am?” “Tomorrow as well, break my curse and I'll tell you all about yourself.” He looked at me, “You don't know how to play, Bella I want to give him a chance to learn since you recall how much fun the game can be.” I walked up beside her and asked. “Can we trust him?” She sighed. “We have little choice.” At that Boswell snapped his fingers and I found myself the size of a minnow. Boswell had also shrunk down and now we were floating downstream on a maple leaf with a deck of cards, a cup filled with water, and a dice. “How do you play?” I asked. Boswell flashed a wicked grin. “I can tell you, Misty Maple must be figured out!” “But I'll lose!” I shouted. “I know.” The game commenced, there was a swirling of a cup filled with water, a dice dropped into it followed by more swirling and then a quick emptying of all the cards in our hand. Boswell shouted “I win!” Suddenly I found myself standing in the water next to Bella, full size. “You lose, see you tomorrow!” With that he splashed back into the waters where we could not find him...

Seriously, I Know the Duke of Pastries!

THURSDAY I went to New York City The Count de Sang was heading that way to meet some friends from afar. Soon we had a merry troupe, and off we were, to the city! Due to circumstances we decided to meet his friend for dinner. It was a lovely time of food and conversation...that is...until DESSERT! The waiter kindly told us that our dessert was only a short while away. We eyed the pastries behind the counter and began the difficult task of deciding which to try. I picked mine and soon enough we were ready to order, that's where things got weird. The waiter smiled and left to bring us our desserts, however he returned with nothing in hand and only a frown on his face. “It seems the pastry chef is withholding pastries from this table, he simply won't allow it.” I nearly collapsed from the shock, here we were, so close to such wonderful pastries and now our way was thwarted by a PASTRY CHEF! We questioned the waiter and he only shook his head. “I can't give a good explanation, perhaps the chef himself can describe why...” And it was then that I understood, for before us stood the pastry chef, but he was no unknown pastry chef but instead the world famous G. Godfrey Grotesque the VIII! Indeed this fiend of a chef was world renowned for his sugary delights but to me he was known as the cousin of G. George Fatts the third and a second cousin once removed to the sworn enemy of Count de Sang...”Jailor Bob...” The count muttered. He flashed us a devilish grin. “What are you to do without a proper end to your meal? Your stomachs shall never let you rest, and you shall be drawn to this place forever, seeking a meal but truly seeking the dessert that you never received. It shall be a perpetual craving in your gut!” He exclaimed terribly. “Such a thing is madness and torture dear sir, please let us have our pastries, we have done nothing to you.” He shook his head fiercely. “I do this not because the two of you have grudges against my kin but simply because I'm THAT MEAN!” It was all over, we could do nothing against this wicked chef of pastries. It was then that our waiter appeared below the balcony on which we had been sitting. “Here, pastries della awesome!” With that he sent up six of the baked items. We ate them quickly, the pastry craving subsided and now rays of awesome filled the restaurant. G. Godfrey could do little against it and shrieked as the sheer force of awesome cast him far away, out of the restaurant, out of the city, out of the state of New York altogether. In fact we had done such a service to the restaurant that they almost decided to give us our meal on the house...almost...

Yeah, I'd Trade That In...

So the other day I picked up a sweet game for my old schoolin' game console. I was in the store when I found an interesting cartridge. It was black...suspicious? Very. Immediately I thought of that movie where the girl pops out of the television set and makes you totally grody because she's grody and let's face it no one wants to be grody alone, seriously. So of course I bought the thing, figuring, that I might as well add a bit of adventure to my weekend. I arrived home and decided to pop in the game. Of course I had to blow on it a few times because everyone knows, the game really can't be that good unless you need to blow on it to get it to work. That's just a fact. However the screen came on, the title music began to play and then suddenly a monster appeared on the screen! He leaped out of the picture, just like in that sad tale of grodiness. “I am the Pixel Monster of PIXELATION!” Then he shot out a pixel fireball that totally blew up my sofa. “Dude. You totally can't go popping out of television sets and wreck people's sofas like that, and seriously Pixel monster of Pixelation?? Two of the same word in your title, they could sell any game idea in the eighties...” I sighed. The monster blinked a few times. “But the cartridge was cursed and you brought this curse upon your house!” I shook my head. “Yo dude, I understand the cursed bit, but I was expecting more of the gagging up Nintendo controllers and seeing some freaky crap in my mind, NOT let's just jump straight out and wreck stuff, that variety of curse is totally weak and is really causing me to consider whether or not this game was even worth the two bucks I paid for it.” He blinked again. “Seriously?” “Seriously, your curse sucks dude.” This made him cry...large pixel tears, I rolled my eyes as he sobbed and broke down my front door. The pixelated tears trickled out the newly made hole in my wall. I decided to play Tetris instead.

Witchy Weather We've Been Having Lately...

The other day, as I was driving through Cornwall I had yet another unusual encounter. As it were, I was driving my car listening to some very pleasant music. I was heading towards some dark clouds overhead. However my quiet car ride was interrupted by a girl in argyle pants running towards me as fast as she could. At her side was a young man in long coat dragging her by the hand. Both of them looked out of breath, the man waved at me to stop. I stopped. I began to get out of my car, there seemed to be no one else around. The man rushed up beside me and flung open my side door. "Please take her." He said with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of stone. Before I could even ponder why a Merry-go-Round and Carousel had two different names (even though they are quite similar) the girl muttered "The Witch of Cornwall." This gave me an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. I looked up and, heading towards us was another figure, one of a woman in a dark dress. Her auburn hair flying about as she seemed to sail in on the very air itself. "Get her away from here!" Shouted the young man. "What of yourself?" I asked. "I shall be well enough..." He did not sound entirely confident. I shrugged and got into my car. Quickly I started the engine and began to pull away, heading towards the way I had just come. In my rear view mirror I could see flashes. Was it lightning or had that dark woman met the young man? Some strange things have happened in the past, i must admit but this was almost too strange, and yet a girl was laying out of breath and asleep in the backseat, what could all of this mean?

Ice Cream Prevents Late Fees!

Summer is here and a few days ago it struck me as a perfect evening for some ice cream and relaxation. I quickly called my good friend, the Count de Sang and before anyone could even think of saying “I wonder what Theodore Geisel got his doctorate in” The Count had arrived and we were embarking on a ride to the ice cream shop. Of course the bikes were in bad shape, flat tires and slipping gears and chains, what were we to do? At once I decided to visit the neighbor, they had just moved in and rumors were flying about that they owned a pawn shop, perhaps they could help us? I approached the house and knocked on the door timidly, it swung open as my neighbor looked at me, remaining silent. “Hi, I was wondering if we could borrow some bikes from you guys so that we could head down to the ice cream shop.” My neighbor stared ominously and suddenly erupted in a fit of laughter that echoed all the way down to the far neighbors. “Bikes!” He roared, “BIKES! Listen here neighbor, don't you dare think that I would even own bikes, I run a pawn shop my friend and through a pawn shop often comes many magical and wonderful things, things that far surpass your garden-variety everyday bicycle.” He waved us in and led us down to his basement. In the back corner was something covered by a dusty white blanket. With a flick of his wrist the blanket went sailing away. Beneath the blanket sat two contraptions made of steel tubing. They looked almost like normal bikes, only on the back of each was a very large peace lily. “When you pedal it powers the plant, and when you power the plant it's leaves become like wings, carrying you off to far away places.” The Count and I agreed, these would do just fine. We soared through the air to the campground and as we landed there I found myself in yet another strange encounter. The Count and I had purchased our ice cream and headed back outside to relax when my dear friend paused. “What is the matter I asked?” Before us stood the one and only G. George Fatts the third. Immediately I asked for my library book back, the one he had swiped from Naples pizza. “It's in my car but you won't get it.” He grinned. “I love late fees, especially when they are not mine.” I began to speak but the Count silenced me. “You sir, are you related to Bob the Jailor perchance?” G. George continued to grin. “Certainly, you know him or something?” “He one of my many adversaries...” Fatts frowned. “Are you the Count de Sang that has given him much trouble? The one he has successfully evaded for four years now?” The Count nodded as G. George continued. “You are the one!” He laughed loudly at the thought. The Count took none of it, quickly casting his hand out, above it his ice cream cone floated, much like a dart. With the flick of his wrist it went sailing into the face of George. “Tell him I shall find him...” George went down as the cone hit him in the right eye. “And return my friend's book.” The large man agreed as he pressed the button on his key chain. The lights flashed as the door unlocked, I retrieved the book and held it close, no late fee for Faux LeRoy!

Please Hold...

So I was working the other day and all seemed to be going well, just an average shift. However, high noon came and went and the department manager went on break. She didn't return. As my day was winding down there I decided to peek into the break room, sure enough, she had called the major cable company Castcom about her service. They had put her on...HOLD! I waved farewell but the next day there she sat, she had been on the phone all night! Immediately I knew something was up so I took some time off to investigate. After quite a bit of footwork I managed to reach the main office building. Of course they would not let me in further than the front desk, fortunately I had my trusty grappling hook in the trunk of my car. I scaled the wall and stealthily and slid in through the first open window. It was there that I found myself face to face with something terrible! Before my very eyes were millions of phones, all with flashing lights, they were all holding people in the foul state of phone limbo that had overtaken my manager. I looked around, no one was here. So I acted impulsively and picked up a phone. “Hello?” I asked. “Hi.” The voice responded in a crackly voice, “I have not spoke for years, it is about time someone took me off of hold.” I held my breath. “How long have you been on hold sir?” “Since 1981.” If a jaw dropping could make a sound he would have heard it. “Well we appreciate your waiting sir but we can not answer your call at this time, please hang up and live your life.” “My life?” H stuttered, “Oh yes I remember now, my...life...” I smiled as I pushed he next button, call after call, person after person, all of them on hold. Slowly the lights on the phones stopped flashing as I told them all to live on. It was at that moment that a cold breeze gripped me and the doors to the phone room flew open. The CEO had come down, finding there were too many calls being answered he had to investigate. “What is this!” He shouted. “These people have been on call for ages sir.” I replied. He shook his head. “I know that! I have been draining their souls so that I may sustain my own life, mercy isn't that obvious?” I was taken aback, clearly I had never encountered someone who had specialized at stealing souls, unless you count that teacher from grade school... At once I could feel strength as he began to charge at me furiously. I knew I was no match and fled out the window. I reached my car out of breath as he jumped out behind me. The sidewalks cracked with the very force of his landing. I escaped in my car and returned to work the next day. I wish this tale had a happy ending but alas there is none. Mark my words though, this battle with the vile corporation Castcom has not ended!

West of Jersey

So I haven't managed to get that book back from Fatts III yet but I figured why let that get me down? It is the 4^th of July, after all. So instead of feeling down on my luck I decided to view some quality fireworks in a near-by town. I was happy to sit and relax. Blanket on the ground, tea in hand I was ready for the show and it started. I was quite pleased, that is until THEY showed up. And just like that, the sky was blocked by a huge tour bus parked right smack in the center. And before I could even say “Harper Lee, the author of To Kill a Mockingbird was really a woman but wrote under a title that everyone thought to be a man because of the social mindset towards women in her day and age” The park was filled with tourists, not just normal tourists, for you see, the bus was THE TOURBUS OF THE RIVER STYX. Frigging A, why did they have to park in the sky? I could hear the booms and the applause of people sitting closer than I. What if a guy went up with a rocket? I mean I would want to see something like that, so I figured I had better get that bus out of the way. I had to shuffle past a few people being ripped in half and then reassembled and a few people whose heads continually fell off but eventually I made it to the door of the bus. I pounded on it for a few moments before they slid open and a frazzled looking demon turned to me. “It's my first day on the job chap, sorry about this, I've found myself in a spot of misdirection rather.” I shook my head, “Why are you pretending to have a British accent?” He shrugged his shoulders and admitted to me. “This is a tour of homes OF THE DAMNED and I guess I wanted to make it sound fancy.” I looked at him for a bit, “Well everyone can tell you are faking. Besides, this isn't Hades, why on earth are you guys here?” The driver appeared rather bummed out by this point. “Well. I took a wrong turn, I don't suppose you would know how to make it back to hell?” I, never having been to hell had no idea but I figured I'd take a good guess. I gave him the best directions I could and he smiled. With a loud shout that only a being of the underworld could muster, all of the undead tourists were back on board. “Remember, I said, 78 will take you all the way to New Jersey, you think you can make it?” He nodded, “Certainly chap, thanks for the directions rather.” He winked at me and closed the doors. With a loud crack the bus was off again and my view of the night sky was unhindered, just in time for the finale...

Mama Mia!

WELL. The other day I was finishing work at Tee pees and Escapades when hunger struck. I figured I might as well swing by Naples pizza, fortunately it was right next door, all I had to do was cross the street. The small bell over the door rang as I entered but immediately I had a strange feeling, as if I had walked into a bad scene. It was as if everything was in slow motion. The freaked out Italian guy behind the counter, the hunched figure standing on the other side. And before I could say Nosferatu was a thinly veiled uncopyrighted version of the story of Dracula the figure turned around and stared at us. The waxed mustache, the scowling gray brows and the portly tummy all moved as the smiling fiend announced to us all what he had just announced to Don Enrico at the front counter. “I am here to consume all of the pizza here, WITHOUT PAYING!” He cackled and jumped up and down deviously. It felt as if I had just digested a chunk of lead. It sank to my stomach and it felt as if the floor was ready to drop out from below me, how could this happen? The confused spectators looked on, not moving an inch. Don Enrico quivered with fear of this man. “My name is G. George Fatts the third!” He announced. “Surrender your pizza's now or I will emit foul smelling fumes from my posterior.” I must say I blinked at that comment, a lot, that was just really gross, and also really juvenile. The fart joke really is a lame trump card but a trump is a trump, I felt so defeated. I turned for the door, an idea in my head. “You, boy with the curl, stop.” He said to me. “All will witness my awful binge.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Listen G. George, I need to head to the library, I will return shortly, then you can start your binging.” He looked concerned as he replied. “And let the pizza grow cold?” “Pizza oven dude.” I answered as I headed to the library as quickly as I could. I scanned the card catalog looking for the right book, the were probably small putti guiding me in that moment of crisis. I'm no professional dietitian but perhaps my plan could work anyway. I returned to Naples, book in hand. I walked right up to G. George and handed him a copy of Taking Care of my Body: A book on Healthy Eating. He cracked open the pages suspiciously and was immediately engaged by it's wisdom. “What was I thinking!” He sobbed, “Not only is eating all of the pizza not possible but it would be harmful to my body, violating the principals of good physical health!” He snapped the book shut and ran off weeping, I guess that made me the hero, but not in the eyes of the librarian for you see, G. George ran off with my book while he was crying and as a result I have an impending LATE FEE unless I get the book back!