Monthly Archives: June 2017

Glimmerings of Science

(It’s a kind of flash spectacle, otherwise, perfectly ordinary.)

Melthuse the Hotheaded paced back and forth in his dapper robes, belt tassel swinging ominously (or so he hoped), and sandals squeaking on the marble floor. “Oh my dolorous mushrooms!” he muttered. “Oh my squamush tornadoes! This won’t do, no it won’t do at all!” There were seven thousand three hundred and seventeen turkeys loose in the southernmost courtyard (“The Reclaimed Sump” or “Nackerlee”–no one could quite remember why they were called that). Melthuse had been tasked with somehow transporting all seven thousand plus turkeys into the North Bailey, which had been repurposed as a “turkey holdall” or so Baron Krunscheeplummz had called it. Well, sure, Melthuse was somewhat responsible for the surfeit of turkeys due to an itchy nose during the Calling of Morfrost Veeberfleen, a spell to clean all the windows all at once without any need of ladders. With the nose scratching, instead, Melthuse had inadvertently cast the Palling of Morfroomp Flundersteen, a spell to summon a large number turkeys (Melthuse hadn’t known the exact number until the spell had burned the number into his brain. Not only that, he now knew each turkey by name.) He sighed and then dashed after Yoorp Domildacile, a particularly spry turkey that had only just now hopped down from the astrolabe.

Three weeks later Melthuse was still at it. “Hey, at least it’s a job,” Melthuse thought, as he pounced onto Vicanta Poolflolloper. “Only three thousand six hundred and thirty-three to go!”

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The Elephant Men

(No, they’re not literally men who are elephants.)

The Elephant Men closed the door behind them and took off their blindfolds. There were four of them (not six, as was popularly assumed–to be fair, the last two had retired and just never been replaced). They all shook hands. “Nothing is more important than understanding the truth about the Elephant!” they intoned, almost simultaneously. “Yes,” said one wearing a hat shaped like a brick, “truly this wall will endure forever.” “You’re funny,” said another, whose hand had been replaced with a spear, “I’ve never heard of a wall that’s pointy!” The third man, the one with the snakeskin pants, laughed uproariously and said, “I don’t know how that snake manages to stay so still every time you touch it. You’re lucky it hasn’t poisoned you with its poisonous fangs!” The fourth smirked, “You’re all fools. How you could mistake this thin pancake for all those other things, I have no idea.” The first one said, “Well, time to go on tv and tell people the Truth about the elephant!” The others nodded curtly and turned to leave. They all left out of different doors. On Facebook, two friends (who didn’t know the Elephant Men personally) got in an argument about whether the elephant was a wall or snake. They didn’t seem to care about whether it was a spear or pancake. Go figure.

(This humble offering inspired by http://mixedmentalarts.co/blindmenandtheelephantpoem/)

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