My Journey Part 12: Dark Mystery

To say I had mixed feelings would be an understatement. So much had happened in such a short time. Relying on my years of specialized training as a paranormal investigation theorist was my only salvation as there was so much information to process. Apart from dealing with my time of damp deprivation in the wilds of a northern Saskatchewan bog, my dear friend Pearly had given himself over to his desire to live as a badger and we had just been captured by a group of portly Cryptozoologists!
Things had gone from bad to worse; we were frozen in place by a loud howl whose source was quite close. We all turned in unison to see one of the Blaine twins struggling on the ground trying to dislodge an angry chipmunk from his ear (apparently the same one we had evicted from Pearly's badger ear). With one firm tug, Spike pulled the offending rodent off and promptly drop kicked it towards a group of trees. His trajectory was off, unfortunately, and the chipmunk ended up in Pearly's groin area, forcing a girlish squeal.
I'm happy to report to all you animal lovers out there that the chipmunk scampered off seemingly unharmed, although he did run, in a zigzag fashion, right into a tree.
Everyone gathered their composure and we got on with the business at hand: How would we find our way back to Angus Hat. The Turtle Lakes Cryptosquad was not planning to leave the area just yet; They were on a twin mission of fact finding and bog-mass collecting that would be a few more days. I spoke with the team while sitting on Pearly to keep him from escaping to live with the badgers and at the same time prevent the cryptozoologists from performing an autopsy on him (despite my constant reminders that the subject had to be deceased for the procedure). 
All this was wearing away at my calm demeanor so I tried to change the subject by asking the Blaine twins about their moss collecting. They told me that they had developed a super fuel while distilling fermented bog-mass. I asked what this material was and they described it as a mixture of moss, rotting wood and several species of amphibians (for that extra octane) that they slowly ferment and boil into a dark brew which is twice as powerful as gasoline and tastes like caramel flavored Russian vodka. They called it "Boggo"
Here's a picture of their process:

The Blaines were building up a stockpile of "Boggo" for use in their soon-to-begin SASKAR racing circuit. They enjoyed Cryptozoology but Sheldrake confided that it's very hard to keep the twins focused as they seem to always walk in oval circles, bumping into each other and running into trees and boulders.

Spike secretly told me that he was annoyed at their waving a flag every time they found any evidence of Cryptoids. It was during one of these charming discussions that I suddenly lost my balance and felt myself falling, falling into a mysterious endless darkness!

(to be continued)  

My Journey Part 11: A Cry In The Dark

Have you ever felt your blood boil, curdle and turn to ice all at the same time? I can't imagine what geological or meteorological conditions could precipitate such an experience! Perhaps rolling down an active volcano into a poison swamp during a blizzard. My situation did not bring on any reaction of this nature; It was early morning and I was still a bit groggy after having a tranquilizer dart blowpiped into my left flank. The sensation was similar to my dream-state after eating my wild mushroom and hemp sausages back in  the seventies during the Angus Hat Music Festival.
I focused on the hirsute creature lying next to me. It was Pearly in his Badger suit! Using my training as a Paranormal Investigation Theorist I quickly put my method of consciousness-evaluation to the test - I stuck my thumb in his eye. His reaction was positive, although he landed awkwardly. Wiping the damp moss from his mouth, Pearly recounted his harrowing escape from four hunters the previous day. I turned his head to the right and pointed out the four men around the campfire, asking him if those were his pursuers.
One of the men turned to look at us and gestured to the others. They got up and came towards us with a menacing look.
They were all heavy set men. The youngest one had a tuft of hair that came to a point on top of his head.

The oldest had a great white beard, like the wizard in my recurring dream. The two middle aged fellows in the middle were of medium build and almost indistinguishable from one another. (Here's a picture of two of the fellows from our reunion last week):

As they approached, I used sign language to communicate and show them I was a man of peace,  but it was obvious that they were not literate in "visual Krutthammer". I then tried my German on them but the twins began to cry. What I thought meant "Hello, I am a friendly paranormal investigation theorist" came out "Your Grandmother was a Nazi collaborator".

Having now exhausted my options, I settled on english. That seemed to ease the tension but the twins still haven't gotten over our initial introduction. The wizard spoke first and asked if I was all right. I told him I was fine and that the grapefruit sized swelling from the dart would go down within a few weeks. Then they explained that they were going to spend the day building a cage of pine saplings and moss and that they were going to take the giant badger into town the following day. It turned out that they were Cryptozoologists from Turtleford, on the Turtle River in the Turtle Lakes region of Saskatchewan. I was very pleased that they were trained in a similar discipline to mine but it was obvious that my training was far superior to theirs. I pointed out that their prize catch was wearing jeans and that he was seeing out of his mouth since the badger head was two sizes too big. I also pointed out that he answers to the name "Pearly", and that his body hair was actually interior lining from an old winter coat stitched together with fishing line.
The Blaine twins, aspiring NASCAR drivers who ran the demolition derby outside of Balgonie, began to cry again as they saw their dreams of being world famous drivers turn to vapor. They had all planned to take their giant badger on a world tour, make millions and then buy a huge tract of land where they would construct their own racecourse and found their own racing circuit - called "SASKAR".
The wizard, who's name was Sheldrake, calmly took out a great big magnifying glass and smacked Pearly on the side of his head, loosening the chipmunk that was lodged in his badger ear.
The younger man, simply called "Spike", was impressed with my skilled observations and asked if he could study with me in the future, because that was where we would have to spend the rest of our lives.
I was touched by Spike's poetic sentiment. I then pointed out the irony that Pearly was in fact the Cryptozoology instructor at the Krutthammer Institute!  I was about to help Pearly out of his disguise when we were all frozen by a piercing wail coming out of the distant darkness!
(to be continued)

My Journey Part 10: Reunited!

To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the moment. The strange calls and cackling led me to the campfire of four men (I know that as a trained Paranormal Investigation Specialist I should never assume a creature is actually human). They sat in a circle around the roaring fire laughing and cajoling, elbowing and slapping the backs of each other's heads, drooling on their shoes, spitting up and akwardly scratching themselves, along with various sounds and activities my personal dignity will not allow me to repeat. I misted up a bit, as it reminded me of nights in the UFO pit back in Angus Hat and OctoberFest up in Cut Knife. They were having a great old time. Their cries of "Biermay! Biermay!" were actually requests for beer, which they had in four industrial sized coolers. 
They seemed to be celebrating something - perhaps they were hunters acclaiming a good day of killing. There are many hunters in Saskatchewan, or more precisely, there are lots of people with guns. During hunting season and most Saturday nights you can hear guns going off all around Angus Hat. I personally own a gun; an 1839 Pepperbox. My great great great grand uncle Olaf von Puddenbottam was it's original owner. He owned it for a very short time. He was wondering if it actually had pepper in it and tried to shake some on his Kartoffelbrei ; when none came out he looked into the barrel and the rest, as they say, is family history.
I decided that I had to act. Years of training as a Paranormal Investigation Specialist has sharpened and honed me into a veritable communication  machine! They looked like nice enough fellows so I calmly approached them shaking and waving my hands up in the air, yelling at the top of my lungs to reassure them that I was coming in peace. I hadn't realized it (there are no natural mirrors in a bog), but I was covered with a week's worth of dirt, mud and moss, so naturally their reaction was quite shocking: Although all four were heavyset men, they all fell backwards onto their knapsacks and pulled out some fearsome looking equipment. I began to flail my arms wildly and make whooping sounds, hoping this would make them feel at ease, but they quickly took up positions around me and pointed their.....Cameras? I was astonished!
My first thought was to communicate with them so I chose to call out in German. I unfortunately hadn't spoken German since I did the zingshpiel recitatives from Tannhauser with my mom, so it came out as drivel (ironically, that's what some say about Wagner). The scene became tense. They tried to outflank me, but my flanks are quite substantial. Then one of them pulled out a rope and fashioned it into a loop, which made me think that they were Supreme Court judges on vacation, looking to bypass the system. Another one whipped out a long metal tube and pointed it at me. He blew into it and then everything faded to black.
When I regained consciousness, I was sitting upright next to - a giant badger? It was Pearly!
(To be continued)

My Journey Part 9: Revelation!

The shrieks and howls got louder as I slowly approached. I decided to stop and hide behind a tree for a little while. "No need to just barge in" I thought to myself. I spend a lot of time speaking to myself, come to think of it. To begin with, I like what I have to say and I know it's all coming from a sincere heart and mind. I also know that everything I think has to be true, so I see there being a lot of solace and comfort in it. Another aspect of "self-informing" is that whatever I tell myself has been filtered through years of specialized training as a Paranormal Investigation Theorist! I  I was going to have to bring all of that skill and depth of understanding to my next challenge. 
I tried to recount my notes on Paranormal sounds.

I had collected volumes of data over the last several years while sitting atop the Sasquatch Pole or nestled in the UFO pit outside of Angus Hat. I had no audio recording device so I used the next best thing......

 - my Brain! I began to catalogue the sounds in two ways: by written onomatopoeic sound and by color. Sounds like "Boeirumnudst!", an obvious Sasquatch mating call, would have a color reflecting the emotion next to it. Here's an example of the over 22,000 sounds I've recorded: 

Unfortunately I had no access to these precious files, so I had to stir up my memory to hear any possible matches with previously recorded sounds. I tried not to breathe in order to pick up every nuance possible; I picked up a call that sounded like "Biermay, biermay! before I started to black out. I quickly began breathing again, avoiding a nasty fall in the brush. The sound returned -"Biermay, biermay!" It sounded almost human, but that's how Sasquatches fool us. They are obviously wonderful mimics!  Many's the time I think I'm sneaking up on a tribe of Sasquatches, only to find some of the local boys sitting around the campfire trading imaginary war stories. Those creatures really know how to throw their voices! 

I knew that this time I had the drop on the Sasquatches; they would never suspect a human, particularly a trained Paranormal Investigation Theorist like myself,  to be so far away from the comforts of civilization. Also, I hadn't bathed in quite a while, was covered in marsh mud and frog dung and had rubbed my hair with pine sap, so there was no way they could pick up my scent. 

I noticed a light in a clearing up ahead, obscured by the bushes and trees before me. The light was not constant but flickered wildly. I have read reports of Sasquatches being linked to extraterrestrial visitations, which I think is a lot of hogwash. It's obvious from the evidence that Sasquatches are earth creatures. The have advanced civilizations and live under the earth in giant caverns where they build wheel-less vehicles and other infernal contraptions. It's plainly evident that they developed a type of light energy for work and travel under the earth - the main reason we don't see too many of them is because they only come up out of their lairs to hunt for berries or to relieve themselves.

Perhaps I had stumbled upon one of their surface hatches! With luck I could catch one trying to get back under and while it was about to batten the hatch I'd knock it out and be able to go into their netherworld where I could sketch up a storm with my trusty crayons! I prepared my crudely fashioned club and sallied forth out of the brush and into the clearing. What awaited me shocked my socks off:

There sat four humans around a fire - drinking Beer!!

(to be continued)

My Journey Part 8: The Panic

Pearly was considerably softened up after numerous blows to the head so he was rather compliant when I questioned him- in fact it was a challenge to keep him sitting up. I jokingly chided him and tried to ease the situation by regaling him with amusing anecdotes from my recent adventures. He was having trouble seeing forward as his eyes kept rolling back into his head so my only recourse was the obvious: I swatted him across the other side of his head where it was less swollen. I did not achieve the desired result until about an hour later. It seems Pearly responds best to at least two dozen firm blows, at roughly five minute intervals, to either side of his brainpan.
I made him a tea of  moss steeped in marsh water and he seemed to come to his senses, although he was convinced I was "Lippy The Lion" and he was "Hardy Har Har" for at least another hour. I let him sleep it off and in the morning the sun came up and Pearly's swelling had gone down. We spent a good part of the morning foraging for food. Since I was preparing a meal for two I had to use my boot grinder to make some flavorful sausage patties. I'm glad dad invented the grinder mechanism in the heel of my left boot. It saddens me to think that poor old dad never patented this fine invention.
Here's my dad's detailed schematic that was never sent to the Canadian patent office:

He used to say "son, a man's boot is the perfect shape for a meat grinder, and don't let anybody tell you different!" Oh the fun we used to have! I treasured moments like that because I didn't get to spend an awful lot of time with dad - he being a professional hobo/sausagemaker and all.
Anyway, we gathered the day's catch and I took my boot off and set it firmly on a lichen covered rock. (lichen, nature's no-slip-grip!) I stuck the turning handle in the socket on the side of my heel and then started throwing in the ingredients:
Berries, pine needles, some salamanders, grubs, a few frogs, some sand and moss for filler and one egg.
I ground the sausage,formed some small patties and then left them on a rock for the sun to bake them. Of course, this being northern Saskatchewan, it would be quite a while before they reached the proper temperature. We whiled the time away with some gentle interrogation.
I was curious as to why Pearly was dressed like a giant badger and his explanation was quite simple. With me gone from Angus Hat, he got lonely and began longing for Leona, the badger he had lived with for so many years. They eventually broke up because he grew tired of living underground in the dark and she could not reconcile in her heart that they were different. She thought that it would be too much for her brood, seeing as how "daddy" was much larger and generally hairless. She was fearful that all the other little badgers in badger school would mock and taunt her kids. She knew that badger society was not yet ready for mixed relationships.
Pearly had a lot going against him but he was convinced that if he wore a badger suit, it wouldn't be so bad. 
I tried to dissuade him from pursuing this lofty dream of his but he just burst into tears and ran off into the woods. I thought about following after him but my attention was quickly drawn to the far side of the nearby bog. There were panicked screams, otherworldly shrieks and howls!
Thankfully, my years of  training in Paranormal Investigation Theorizing and deductive analysis served me well: I decided to walk towards where the sounds were coming from.
(to be continued)

The Krutthammer Institute Of Higher Theorizations

I'm taking a time out from my riveting tale to answer an important letter:

"Hello. I am interested in attending the Krutthammer Institute for Higher Theorizations. How much is the tuition, and do you offer scholarships? I believe I would qualify for a scholarship as my friends always say that I tell a lot of "tall tales", and that i "belong in an institute". I'm always coming up with theories about all sorts of things. For example, I'm pretty sure I know why marshmellows are soft. And also, why do trees usually grow upwards? I have a theory about that too! Please send me the registration forms for your institute. Thank you" 

.Zack Greely

I get thousands of requests from aspiring Paranormal Investigation Theorists every week and since I've come back I have neglected to inform you all as to how the Institute operates.

Let me be up front and tell you that I don't offer scholarships. 

I don't know what that is.

What I am looking for is super smart intuitive individuals who are willing to sacrifice everything to continue our noble work and possibly help out with the grinding from time to time. 

Here's a photo of the Institute just outside of Angus Hat, Saskatchewan, Canada, Earth:

The metallic disc in the top left corner is a hubcap Norv was using to practice his skeet shooting. You have a clear picture of the main building and in the background on the left is our investigative mobile unit, the "Paranormobile" which is fitted with the latest technology. we don't have a dormitory as yet but students are welcome to live in the woods out back if they bring their own tents and sleeping bags. There is a small "foraging fee" if you eat what's in the woods. 

Class begins a eleven in the morning on Mondays, Thursdays and alternating Fridays. On all other days, class begins at eleven ten. On the alternating Fridays we go on an actual field trip and put what you've learned in the classroom to practical use - and collect ingredients for sausage making (squirrels won't come of their own volition, you know). If you take the full course, you also participate in the Saturday sausage-making and foot-bathing ritual. 

After five years of intense study you will become a trained Paranormal Investigation Theorist! Your degree will allow you to work in the fascinating world of Theorisms and the skill sets you develop can get you other work, like esoteric tour guide or psychic - or even telephone marketing specialist!

The faculty is well known to millions of our regular readers:

Porky Smuts teaches Inter-galactic Signing, Norv teaches Archaic Non-Languages, Lem teaches how to build Paranormal Traps and Detectors (He outfitted the Paranomobile and runs a filing station) Pearly teaches Intuitive Psychic Communication with non-humans And Maximillian is Guidance Counsellor, Nurse and Janitor.

I myself conduct lectures twice a day, working from a free form improvisational curriculum. Our fee is ten dollars a day or five dollars a day if you promise to be our friend. Ladies don't pay at all! At the end of every semester we go on a major field trip to Uranium City! 

Enrollment must be in person and there will be some incidental tests of strength and ordeal by fire to find the most promising candidates.

Here are the directions for getting to Angus Hat: If you decide to fly here, make sure the plane (or other craft) is not flying too low when you jump out. If you time it right, you can land in the pond down the road from the Institute. if you take the Trans-Canada highway through Saskatchewan, there's a grain elevator with an abandoned Texaco station next to it. There's a dirt road heading north right near there. it's the only one that comes this way - in fact, it becomes Main Street here in Angus Hat! Stay on the dirt road for about four hundred and eighty five miles and you'll come to a big rock. The road will veer west and you'll go another three hundred and eighteen miles until you come to a clump of trees. The road will veer north and you'll go another two hundred and sixty six miles until you get to a farmhouse. Then you travel another forty four miles and you'll see the sign for Angus Hat. Then it's another hundred and seventy one miles north west and here you are! Remember to fill up your gas tank since there's no filling stations until you get here. Then you can go to Lem's filling station. He sells gas.

Looking forward to meeting all you applicants! Remember, it's first come first serve!

Blitz Out