Anyway, as I said in the morning post, we will have several posts on the calends of the afternoon. and so, to begin.
Firstly, this High Nooner is only the lip of the ice burger, as its Draconian Letter will start off a series of posts throughout the afternoon, which shall start with something called a Sunday Fiasco (think Weekend Disaster Post), will flow on through a Riddling Derby, probably several more letters, and on and on, etc..until the Finale Extravaganza, where we'll most likely crown a winner, pop a few balloons, and so on.
Lets get to the letter.
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Dear
Smok,
Perhaps
you are wondering why I haven’t written in such an extended period. As your
other uncles seem indisposed, allow me to explain our letters’ ‘leave of absence’
per se.
Let
me say first our justice system is cracked. Wouldn't you say the flight to a
damsel’s cave to save her from bloodthirsty monosyllabics merits above 45 MPH?!
But no,
when I was half way to your old cave, flying slightly higher than my
temporarily allied brothers, a pair of Skyway patroldragons intercepted me, one
trying to handcuff me while the other accused me of flying ten over the
provincial speed limit.
I of
course was most courteous, poking the cuffer in the eye with one wingtip I
bashed Mr. Riot Act upside the snout and the chase was on! Alright, they caught
me within fifty tail lengths, and just managed to take me in.
The
next indignity was that the judge sentenced me to a life’s sentence of eight months
in the county jail! I couldn’t have that, as my warranty on Incinerating Quarterly was about to run
out, and that last issue is always a doozie.
And so I set about working out a
masterful plan for my escape from the jail. I was kept under strict guard of
course, they knowing my reputation, and locked in a maximum security cell on
the jail roof. The skylight was nice for a view, but moving on.
I quickly accumulated a brilliant
plan, which worked out to the letter in execution.
Stage One: I collapsed in my cell,
throwing in a strangled cry of anguished pain for good measure.
Stage Two: That done, I got up, bashed
the wall to pieces, knocked out the guard and ended the day with a mass
breakout of all the inmates.
Stage Three: Once safely out, I stole
found a convenient heard of goats and bombarded the inmates until they gave up
and went back inside the jail.
Brilliant.
Sometimes I surprise even myself with my originality.
But
the far greater trouble I had forgotten that I had broken out to
preserve was the captive princess Limmie the Mildly Cute! Most likely your
other uncles had bungled the operation without me, and I flew swiftly to her
cave, anticipating a terrible tragedy.
However,
it was even worse than I had thought. Those two catch cloths had succeeded without
me!!! The ground shook with the indignity of it…
Unfortunately,
it seems your uncles were arrested on charges of destroying the pieces after their
rescue of your date. How terrible! How awful! This is fabulous an
unfounded disaster! My heart was torn asunder.
Thankfully
my heart heals fast and I got it all in perspective. That perspective I shall
not entail to you my nephew, as it isn’t appropriate for those below 300
as there is a life lesson to be learned in here.
I’ll
get back to you on that,
Your
mourning and appreciative uncle,
Trubodox the Scarlet
P.S. Oh, and by the way, Limme the
Mildly Cute was found wandering the hills of Yovi by Slimtail the Thickheaded.
Seems she was a mite delirious, muttering about flying pigs and fiery beans.
P.P.S. Most intriguing.
P.P.P.S. I believe I’ll investigate
P.P.P.P.S. More into
P.P.P.P.P.S.
Your erstwhile uncles
P.P.P.P.P.P.S.
imprisonment.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S.
Could be
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S.
Interesting
