#720 These Past Two Weeks, A True Story - 2006/03/12 10:44 PM
The following is an excerpt from an account of Ms. Darcy & The Webmaster's completely truthful adventures spanning these past two weeks which will no doubt explain the strange absence of a Flying Turtle News update last week. Our narrative begins thusly:
The Webmaster, a tall young man with beard enters a cozy apartment living room. At a small writing desk in the room is an ultra-attractive pixie-type young lady with a high-volume brown pony tail. This lady is known in most circles as Ms. Darcy and currently she is busy painting a picture of a cupcake.
THE WEBMASTER (WM): Hello my dear, I've finished my taxes. Time to wake up Smokey Joe!
MS. DARCY (MD): You'll not get a fire started proper unless you clean some access ash out of the fire pit; It's overfilled!
WM: A keen suggestion, all these receipts and invoices must be burnt exhaustively. RIGHT THEN!
The Webmaster goes to the closet and retrieves a great bundle of tarpaulin which he unrolls in front of a small brick hearth. With a small shovel from the umbrella stand, he proceeds to grow a sizeable mound of ash in the center of the tarpaulin. Strange things appear on the mound every other shovel or so... charred femur, smoldering dictionary, remnants of pornographic photographs, melted cassette tape, deflated basketball. The room is suddenly filled with a loud CLANK.
MD: What in heavens was that?
WM: I've struck the bottom but instead of brick I've found a most curious configuration of pig iron plate. How Queer! What do you make of this cast inscription?
MD: Hmm, these markings bare a unique resemblance to the ancient Norse scriptures I studied in college...
WM: Can you make out what it says? Look this bit toward the back... a hinge! I believe the floor of this fire pit contains a hidden trap door!
Working with crayon rubbings, old college text books and the internet Ms. Darcy and The Webmaster decipher the strange runes into the following message: "ABANDON ALL TOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE" And with help of a few magic words employed in tandem with a six foot crowbar, the industrious couple proceeded through the great iron door, into the mysterious shadow realm, an underworld of infinite perils and fabulous wealth. Ah, but that is a different story.
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|Audio =||The Dresden Dolls (Musical Group)|
|Print =||Fart Proudly: Writings of Benjamin Franklin You Never Read in School :: JAPIKSE, CARL (editor)|
|Status =||the crew is awesome|