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Addendum Issue 078
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Addendum
URL: http://www.adden.tr.cx/
Issue# 78 : The Exiled Seagull with the Inverted Head II
29th June 2002
Author: Phoenix
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The Continuing Wanderings of the Exiled Seagull with the Inverted Head
Doesn't it ever get you just how one-way that long winding treacherous road,
life, can be? I hopped on this road, and it's lead me straight to you, the
Walrus King, and now I'm about to be stripped, skinned, boiled and chomped
on. Roads don't get much more one-way.
I mean, it's life, love or leave it, and we all do. Leave it, that is, not
love it. I mean some do, some don't...
Anyway, what would I know? I'm just a pilgrim.
"A pilgrim?" I hear you ask, stuffing another cream bum into your gob,
you bloated puddle you. "Where you pilgriming to?"
I am not, as I am sure you suspect, an ordinary pilgrim. I am a full
fledged member of the Collector's Guild, oh Rabid Rotund one, recently
promoted to Enthusiast First Class, and a specialist. I specialise in:
STORIES.
I collect stories, oh Super-large Lump of Lard, and I am on the trail of
the most epic, the greatest story of all. For four months I have trudged
this road, through the Heavenly Kingdom of Come. I deceived the Dread
Demons of Ludo. I traversed the cliffs of D'Ova, and crawled through the
Swamp of You'll-be-back. I managed to survive an audience with Count
Procrastinon, and everywhere I went I found bits and pieces of this story.
It is said, far beyond these borders, beyond the Autumn Veil and the Land
of the Dog-Heads and the City of Curios and Theocratic Editorius, there
is the Desert of Boundary, where the bones of unwary travellers garnish
the plains, and roadside assistance is just not likely. It is a journey
well worth making, for it is said that in the midst of the desert is an
oasis (it's a little pond, my Sweaty-stench, with palm trees), called
Welcome by some, and Wisdom by others, and Timezone by others, though
this is probably a case of mistaken identity. In the midst of this oasis
is a pool, and in the depths of this pool is a mountain. Yes, flappy-chops,
under the water.
Sitting (somehow) on top of this hydrologous peak (I DID NOT make that
word up, cynical one, I collected it somewhere) is a master of wisdom,
once a lonely wanderer and wonderer, a creature that, deformed and
noxious to the eye, is said to know the Fifth Question of Truth. As I
don't know (oh grotesque creature from my most tormented nightmares)
Questions One through to Four, this is pretty impressive. What's more,
though, the journey of this unseemly Seeker is an epic that, published
in full, will make me the Greatest Collector in the Guild, far better
than stupid Jerky Jenkins and his Amazing Quantum Erotic Stamp and
Coin kit. The royalties, you undestand, the royalties...
Oh you flubbersome warmongering dollop of beef, don't eat me. Spare
me my life, so that I might complete my quest! Surely, such a story
intrigues you. Let me free and, on my return, I shall bring to you
the news of the Mystic Contorting Seagull of the Oasis.
Price of freedom? But I have nothing, Your Royal Nauseating Pukebucket,
except the claws on my feet and the pelt on my back. What else should
a poor wandering gerbil scholar carry? I need no backpack, for I
shall carry my souveniers back in my skull.
Perhaps a story shall suffice to placate your hunger, and buy my
passage? (Oh, you'd best do something about those stomach rumblings.
I thought the castle was falling down.) How about my miraculous
escape from the clutches of evil Doctor Dissection? Oh, you don't
like stories where the bad guy wins. Um, the destruction of the
twin cities Sodoff and Gongetouttahere? I see, heard it before...
What about the time I encountered the fifteen Naughty Nubile Nude
Nymphomaniacs of North N? Ah, the corpulent one doesn't care for
a romance...
I know, I shall tell you of the Tunnel Beast beneath the Mountain
Matrimony. I had been warned some days earlier of the Warrior
Women in White, who waited above the mountain passes for unwary
male travellers, whom they ambushed, forced marriage, and magically
transformed into tired, depressed weight-gaining workhorses with
their magical artifact, the Mortgage. It seemed I would have to
walk round the mountain or risk an unlife of Tax Income Forms and
Joint Bank Accounts until I was told of an alternative path, a
tunnel BELOW the mountain. This would cut months off my travelling
time.
I found the tunnel with little problem (it's simple enough, Girthy
One, to find a secret tunnel anywhere. You need only wait until
sunset, and then the Sun's rays are bound to light up some otherwise
invisible passageway) and proceeded down. Down, I went, guided by
glow-worm, and down further. Soon the tunnel branched, and I took
the wider tunnel. Then it branched again, and again, sometimes
into five or six other tunnels, and each time I took what looked
to be the main tunnel.
Shortly afterwards I was forced to admit I was lost. Even this
wasn't such a problem, except that I was hungry and Gilbert the
Glow-worm was paling somewhat. Still, I decided to have a little
rest when...
At first I thought I was imagining things, Father of Fat Arses,
but no, I heard it again... shuffling, echoing up the passageway.
I froze, waiting, then, came a cry so heart-rending, so terrifying
(more so for echoing out of five different passageways at different
times) that I marked my passage in a most distinctive and olfactory
way. SOMETHING WAS STALKING ME IN THESE TUNNELS!
Aside from the brief evacuation of my bowels, and to be fair I
needed to go anyway, I did not panic, Corpulence Incarnate, for
a Collector is trained to be prepared for all situations. I picked
a tunnel according to my scientific method (Eenie, Meenie...) and
ran as fast as any gerbil has run before.
It was in vain, I tell you, for soon I heard the shuffling again,
as of somebody TRYING to be stealthy, and failing. I could not tell
which tunnel it came from, which is the way of things underground
you understand. He might well be down any passage I head down, so
I paused.
Shuffle... shuffle...shuffle...silence.
"GOT YOU!"
I span around to face the most horrific beast I had ever seen until
I met you, Godacirious Bastard (yes, I made that word up). It was
something like a small bear in desperate need of a haircut and manicure.
To be continued...
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Addendum
(C) Phoenix June 2002
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