Wednesday, June 11, 2003
"Ha!" said I, grinning broadly from ear to jaw. The doctor appeared unpleased with this configuration. I altered it to a more pleasing form, choosing Left Nostril-to-Tonsil over the wildly famous Teeth via Femur, made popular in Paris. He handed me a carver's apron, saying "do as you will". I did; again he was displeased, removing his limbs from the bridge strut. "Once again sir, who are ye to be knocking at such an early hour?" His cheerful demeanor diminished and shrunk, he placed it in a snuff-lined box of finest teak. I danced wildly and swung a couple of blows.
"I am merely your humple student, seeking priceless blueprints to the 3rd Prototype!"
His ears pricked at 'humple'; had I passed the test? His countenance became like thunder; clearing to light showers with brisk winds, north by nor'east. His meteorlogical display struck me sideways; beside myself, I ambled horizontally until I was whole. Far off, strains of Flemish piano were carried northward, causing famine. I knew I should speak, I was tiring rapidly.
"I apologize for my mistake, I have a Flemish cold. Will you give me entry?"
He did so, and pinning me to the divan with his middle fingers his ears pricked again. I knew I had lost this round. I resolved to continue my former address in an attempt to confuse him.
"I am merely your humple student, seeking priceless blueprints to the 3rd Prototype!"
Once more, his ears pricked. Noting this in my diary, I countered his grasp with a Lurhmann Spin, scattering the furniture into the fireplace.
He straightened and removed his codpiece. "Well done; ye have proved your formula!" His attempt at a pirouette was thwarted by gravity; I laughed and was rewarded with beatings about the laivess-fairre (see prgp. 8).
We adjourned to his invention room; never before have I been assaulted by such mechanical imagery! Opening my eyes was positively worse; I slumped into the corner, an impossible configuration which again displeased the doctor, who yawned in disgust.
TO BE CONTINUED
"I am merely your humple student, seeking priceless blueprints to the 3rd Prototype!"
His ears pricked at 'humple'; had I passed the test? His countenance became like thunder; clearing to light showers with brisk winds, north by nor'east. His meteorlogical display struck me sideways; beside myself, I ambled horizontally until I was whole. Far off, strains of Flemish piano were carried northward, causing famine. I knew I should speak, I was tiring rapidly.
"I apologize for my mistake, I have a Flemish cold. Will you give me entry?"
He did so, and pinning me to the divan with his middle fingers his ears pricked again. I knew I had lost this round. I resolved to continue my former address in an attempt to confuse him.
"I am merely your humple student, seeking priceless blueprints to the 3rd Prototype!"
Once more, his ears pricked. Noting this in my diary, I countered his grasp with a Lurhmann Spin, scattering the furniture into the fireplace.
He straightened and removed his codpiece. "Well done; ye have proved your formula!" His attempt at a pirouette was thwarted by gravity; I laughed and was rewarded with beatings about the laivess-fairre (see prgp. 8).
We adjourned to his invention room; never before have I been assaulted by such mechanical imagery! Opening my eyes was positively worse; I slumped into the corner, an impossible configuration which again displeased the doctor, who yawned in disgust.
TO BE CONTINUED
KRIPPENDORF KRONIKLES.. VOL 3:
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(In previous episodes our protagonist has attempted an audience with Dr. Whan twice without success, hoping to wrangle his Third Prototype from his dying lips with vigour, love and cutlery. However, the notoriously tetchy doctor has other plans, as Krippendorf will begin to realise.)
"Two-hundred years have I waxed and waned to ascertain his position", he said, as he writhed viciously. I managed to stop his writhing by unplugging the cord, and he was greatly displeased; his Favourite Jam Machine! Alas, he had another, Plum and Mango Petit. "What is Mango Petit?" I asked, and was rewarded with a framed photograph of an iron teat, at which I chuckled truthfully. Pursing his lips in the manner of the Miroquis he managed to spit at a passing horse; it was enough, its back broke.
"A dried and juiceless variety, it must be said."
At this my brow furrowed heavily; I was forced to my knees by the lonesome breeze, blowing north by nor'east. Words formed at my lips were hesitant, a violent shove gave them breath.
"A veiled insult?"
"No, a fruit." He began a modern interpretation of Finley's Revenge. I applauded loudly and was shushed.
"Do not presume to shush me." I was his guest, after all. At this I was shushed with such violent force that all four of my toes broke at the Indian joint; an incident not seen since 10 years ago behind the stands.
Naturally incensed, I blew my nose in disgust and made to leave. My host pursed his lips once more; seeing my chance I leapt for the window, forgetting my altitude; alas! five storeys and a punctured third lung. His parting words rang in my ears as I fled, "Grarrgh uhrg grahhh". I knew I would not forget these words for the rest of my life. I resolved to beat him about the sweetbreads with bouillebase upon our next meeting, which I knew would be our last...
--------------------------------------------
(In previous episodes our protagonist has attempted an audience with Dr. Whan twice without success, hoping to wrangle his Third Prototype from his dying lips with vigour, love and cutlery. However, the notoriously tetchy doctor has other plans, as Krippendorf will begin to realise.)
"Two-hundred years have I waxed and waned to ascertain his position", he said, as he writhed viciously. I managed to stop his writhing by unplugging the cord, and he was greatly displeased; his Favourite Jam Machine! Alas, he had another, Plum and Mango Petit. "What is Mango Petit?" I asked, and was rewarded with a framed photograph of an iron teat, at which I chuckled truthfully. Pursing his lips in the manner of the Miroquis he managed to spit at a passing horse; it was enough, its back broke.
"A dried and juiceless variety, it must be said."
At this my brow furrowed heavily; I was forced to my knees by the lonesome breeze, blowing north by nor'east. Words formed at my lips were hesitant, a violent shove gave them breath.
"A veiled insult?"
"No, a fruit." He began a modern interpretation of Finley's Revenge. I applauded loudly and was shushed.
"Do not presume to shush me." I was his guest, after all. At this I was shushed with such violent force that all four of my toes broke at the Indian joint; an incident not seen since 10 years ago behind the stands.
Naturally incensed, I blew my nose in disgust and made to leave. My host pursed his lips once more; seeing my chance I leapt for the window, forgetting my altitude; alas! five storeys and a punctured third lung. His parting words rang in my ears as I fled, "Grarrgh uhrg grahhh". I knew I would not forget these words for the rest of my life. I resolved to beat him about the sweetbreads with bouillebase upon our next meeting, which I knew would be our last...
