Where to begin? I'm back from a journey that few have ever experienced and lived to tell the tale.
I know that my millions of devoted fans have been concerned about me since it's been almost a year since my last communication with the outside world. I just want you to know that I'm fine.
I lost quite a bit of weight as these before and after pictures will show:
I've been living on berries and grubs for the eleven months of my ordeal - let me tell you that sausage is tasting real good right now so I should be back to my normal weight in no time!
Well, you're all probably wondering where I've been, so here's my story:
On Saturday , March 6th, 2010, I was busy with my sausage grinder, whipping up another batch of dad's hobo sausage (minus the nails and broken glass) when a call came through the window. Lem was calling me from his place, asking if I would take his turn on the Sasquatch pole that night. He had to stay in his cellar until the skunk rash poultice was done reducing. It was still too runny.
I was just minutes away from hanging my sausages so I figured it would be nice to help Lem out (you never know when skunk rash will strike so it's smart to be on Lem's good side).
I slung my Special investigator's PIT bag over my shoulder and headed for the pole.
I never revealed to you, faithful reader, the contents of my Special Investigator's PIT bag - until now!
Every Paranormal Investigative Theorist carries with him/her/it these field essentials:
Pocket telescope
X-ray glasses
Matches
Lighter fluid
Pen knife
Crayons
Notebook
Toothbrush
Candy
Skunk Rash poultice
Dried Sausage or Pemmican
Back to my story: I climbed the Sasquatch pole and set myself up at around sundown.
I had a nice view of our town of Angus Hat on one side and the forest on the other.
When it had gotten pretty dark I was pulling on some pemmican when, all of a sudden, I heard a rustling noise coming from the forest to my right. At first I thought it was my estranged brother Homer doing his Saturday night streak. He likes running naked but is self conscious so he waits until after sundown.
Anyway, this being was moving slowly and stealthily and was covered with hair. I noticed the scent in the air changed from pine needle to warm cheese curd - one of the sure signs of Sasquatch!
I quickly pulled out what I thought was my pocket'scope and put it up to my eye, only to discover it was actually my penknife, which, unfortunately, was covered with lighter fluid. As I writhed in pain I lost my footing and fell off the pole. When I regained consciousness I felt the back of my head scraping the ground - along with the rest of me. I had one leg raised only because the hairy being was pulling me along by the ankle!
(to be continued)
7 comments:
I have an urgent need for a large jar of your Skunk Rash Poultice. Is it available at the Manchester Costco? I do not have a membership, but I borrow my friend's card and they NEVER check. I don't know why they even have photo identification. I mean, seriously.
Also,
Do you know if they received the peach preserves? They are always out. I HATE that place. You walk and walk, it's absurdly HUGE. They are constantly accosting you with wretched food samples.
Well, what do we have here! Welcome back, Blitz, my compadre in arms. I use the word "welcome" loosely.
In this comment, I want to skip the usual preaching, moralizing, and pontificating and go straight to the facts. Without going into all the gory details, let's just say that, based on this long overdue missive, Mr. Blitz Klappenhammer's belief is that he should be free to make all of us pay for his boondoggles. Hey, Blitz! Neville Chamberlain just called; he wants his worldview back!
Hmmm......
I see the year off has not been kind to our Blogger friend, John, here. He has apparently forgotten how to spell his own name. I believe it is Fastendin, with an "I" as in, "I am a pompous psychophant."
Congratulations to Ethan Frung for pointing out a typo. A typo in my surname.
That surely wins the prize for being the most polyloquent and bookish thing I've ever heard. Beware, for it seems that Frung is on some sort of thesaurus-fueled rampage.
You see, I am a law-and-order kind of person. I hate to see crimes go unpunished. When Frung is among plebeians, he warms the cockles of their hearts by remonstrating against careerism. But when he's safely surrounded by his drones, Frung instructs them to create a kind of psychic pain at the very root of the modern mind. That type of cunning two-sidedness tells you all you need to know about his parodies of original thought. Others maintain that Frung once told his comrades, "Hey, let's all go out and use rock music, with its savage, tribal, orgiastic beat, to demonize my family and friends!" (or words to that effect).
In closing, for those who read this 'letter', I hope you take it to heart and pass this message on to others.
Wow! This blog sure generates some strong opinions. Ethan Frung and John Fastendin, you need to chill, man. Blitz is obviously a gentle, childlike soul. He may possess the IQ of a flea, but at least he doesn't hurt and maim with his words.
Keifer, you're new in these parts. Mind you don't cast negativity on Blitz. If you spew blatantly libelous conjecture you will reap the wrath of the wishy-washy, besotted stolid-types that frequent this blog.
Post a Comment