The Budge-Nuzzard

Elwood

2007-06-25T19:34:00.000-04:00

Hideously Gnawed.

Wisdom of the Weem

2007-06-21T20:54:00.000-04:00

The Sha-Una’s hairlessness is somewhat lessened of late. That marsupial titan is now covered from brow to loping toe in a rather unpleasant and stubbly growth. Even so, no such stubbility can stay the mad determination of our endeavor. Onward the Sha-Una strides, and onward do I ride within, peeking out, searching ever for some sign or clue to lead us at last to the domain of the Enthoovian.

The length (not even to mention breadth and depth) of our search is maddening and I often find my mind has wandered away and I must run to fetch it ere it escapes entirely. Thus have I lately begun to occupy it with the wisdom of the Weem. From out of memory I have plucked those morsels of wit and wonder that have kept me sane for minutes at a time, and I recite them now to my brain, to calm it and tempt it not to wander.

It was during one of these solemn recitals that I knew I must share such wisdom. For if such things could lead grand Weem-Ti to its place among the greatest of all civilizations, so too could it lead the odd folk of this far and untidy land. Therefore, heed now the wisdom of the Weem and gloan upon it ere we speak again.

“When you bite the Nuzzard, the Nuzzard bites into you!” -Bornholt the Wider

“Upon no mound!” -Anonymous

“If you look into your heart and find a small sharp-toothed man lurking there…run!” -Theophillip

“Never was there a more smoldered lip.” -Needwole the Tyrant

“Love crosses all boundaries, and is often shot for trespassing.” -Bornholdt the Wider

“Three! Three! Three!” -King Todd III

"Once a mole, always really dirty and blind.” -Theophillip

“To know thy death, is to know thy self…but not for very long.” -Bornholdt the Wider

“Honor thy elders, that they may not beat thee with a spiny rod." -Man recently beaten with a spiny rod

The Nuzzardine Contingent

2006-11-28T23:34:00.000-05:00

For the past months the Sha-Una and I have long travelled in utter secrecy, hoping feverishly to evade any and all agents of dubious intent whilst we sought the Enthoovian and his devilish lair. Now however, I have broken my regrettable incognizance to deliver news so fell that I fear to relate it in its unwholesome entirity! Enough, I must gibber it out quickly ere I fall to madness!.

Not two days hence, the Sha-Una and I found ourselves set upon by those repugnant minions of my wicked progeny, the Leapers Wee. And though they leapt no more weely than before, they seemed driven by some unseen force of terrible purpose. When at last we could evade their chase no more, the Sha-Una came to rest upon a lonely stump and howled in despair. The Leapers ringed us about and I peered from with my marsupial’s pouch with rising apprehension. Now shall I be ended I thought, and now shall all the world fall into the robiderant dominion of the Budge-Nuzzard.

And yet, as my eyes peeked out, they saw no further advance of Leapers. In fact, as I thrust my eyes at them, they chattered amongst themselves and I am certain that I spied one or two to have brewed a bit of a stinky tea and sipped at it repulsively. Then the chatter ceased and the unseen menace that drove that legion of Leapers was at last un-unseen. A small contingent of Nuzzards I saw, so very like my own that I should not have known them apart except by their singular multiplicity. They strode from the ranks of Leapers and stood before me. I quivered. I shuddered. I trembled and jibbered. Then they spoke as one.

“Turn aside! For should the Nuzzard fall into your cartonous trap, one of our number will ever rise to join the Budge and seal again that tyrannous union. Abandon this road. Abandon soap.” Then the leftmost Nuzzard argued a bit with the centermost of his abhorrent bretheren and they spoke again, “Abandon hope we meant to say. Do with your soap as you wish.”

Thus spake the Nuzzardine Contingent.

Then they leapt forth and snatched at me horribly! The Sha-Una bit at them and swiped a hairy paw to no avail. I was utterly plucked from within my pouch and handed over to a greedy and loathsome platoon of Leapers who sat upon me montrously and held me fast. In despair I watched as the Nuzzardine Contingent wrestled about with the Sha-Una until they mastered my loping friend and turned their actions to evil most odious. From a pocket one of those terrible Nuzzards drew forth a razor and as the Sha-Una howled they shaved that hero of all hair and left a stubbly and shamed Sha-Una where once proud hair and ferocity dwelt. Then in victorious malificence they did away.

I approached my now unhaired ally to offer some weemish comfort but the Sha-Una turned away and quivered in shame.

What shall become of us! We upon whom evil has turned its loathsome eye, a desperate Weem and a shorn Sha-Una, all alone together, in search of a Rumpled Enthoovian.

A Meated Feast

2006-07-18T23:00:00.000-04:00

In time, my hunger roused itself and smote me. Therefore, under the dire threat of another such assault did I begin to search about my salty pouch in hope of finding some tasty morsel to stay the growing insurgency of my innard (Note: unlike the natives who possess multiple innards, Weems are satisfied, and quite cheery, to have but one.)

So did I creep through every crevice and plumb each pocket within the Sha-Una’s cavernous pouch, and yet I found no crunchy bit nor bulky crumb to drive my hunger back from whence it sprung. Fear took me. Only one course of action could my mind now conceive. To slay my hunger ere he slay me. Thus did I clamp tight my lips and thrust quivering fingers into my nostrils. I would choke my hunger away, for what hunger may endure where air itself has fled? As I felt that vicious hunger wane within me I laughed to myself in victory! Foolish hunger! Foolish to contend with such a Weem as I! Then I believe that I passed out, for I remember nothing more.

I awoke some time later upon a weedy gnoll. The Sha-Una I spied beside a fire, crouched low on a haunch and turning a bit of buttered varmit upon a spit.

“Ho, Sha-Una!” I cried out. “What flesh cooks fair upon that rosy-lighted flame?”

The Sha-Una then removed a tastily roasted bit of varmit from the fire and bid me eat. What commenced was in sure, a grand feast of finely meated bone. My victory over that contumacious hunger was now complete. And once again, I owed all to my hairy ally, the Sha-Una.

Looming Fruits

2006-06-22T22:55:00.000-04:00

No sooner had the Sha-Una borne me out of that Voonish town than did upon the horizon jiggle the far and barely discernable leaping of my wicked progeny’s terrible minions. Whatever puissance kept them at bay while in that town we lay is ours to succor ourselves within no longer. Even now I see that black jiggling grow as it surges toward us, filled with robiderance and budging hate.

“Onward,” I cried to the Sha-Una, and onward did my ally stride. As I peek from within my pouch I recall with glee the parting words of that Jouncey fellow.

“Forth to the Enthoovian, and let no rumpling set thee aside, for ever are the ways of Weems the ways of Pans and Looming Fruits. Like apples for instance, or those really tasty sort of grapes.”

On reflection it occurs to me that I haven’t the bleariest idea what meaning lies in such a message but that it was given me by such a fine fellow is reason enough for untold glee. Thence do I grin upon the road and pat my loping marsupial upon the haunch. Onward. Onward indeed! And let that leaping menace give chase as it may, for who can match the loping wonder of the Sha-Una at speed.

Thus did we lope into the gloaming, far afoot of the Leapers Wee.

Hegemony

2006-06-10T22:51:00.000-04:00

Nine-hundred and ninety-seven…
Nine-hundred and ninety-eight…
Nine-hundred and ninety-nine…
One-thousand!

Glorious!

Now, ere my late unfoldings are duly unfeld, I shall tempt you toward paradise with a brief history of the Hegemony of Pan, as told to me by that Jouncey fellow in his tidy home, ere I struck upon the road toward the Enthoovian.

Eight-hundred and forty-seven odd years past, as the Pan counts, there was in that flat and metallic dimension a great Cookpot that would not be unsettled. This was, to the many citizens of Pan, a most unpalettable condition. Therefore did the Unsettling Revolution commence and was, after much clanging about, at last ended in victory.

Having now unsettled the Cookpot in question, what was an entire dimension of Pan left to do? Why to unite under the green flag of inter-dimensional commerce, what else? Therefore did each Pan then agree to put aside all thought of itself and instead serve the greater container. Thus was born the Hegemony of Pan. Initially, they sought only to enslave the neighboring dimension of Spatuli and peddle them gruesomely upon the market. This however soon resulted in the woeful Spatulumnus Riots of Bundt and the Hegemony was left looking for a new resource to exploit.

So was the career of Barnabus Clatterpot begun. He was the first to discover that Pans and their collective Hegemony were unique unto all creation in the fact that they alone commanded the ability to travel amongst any and all dimensions as easily as a cookie slups free of a buttered sheet. The first result of this discovery was an intolerable decade marked by the unclad recreation of teenaged Pans wherein they unceremoniously streaked unclothed in and out of other dimensions--and often three or four at a time. This, as you might imagine, created quite an uproar and thus did the chief rival of the Hegemony, the somewhat-evil Black Pots (with whom the Spatuli had allied) gain for a time the upper hand.

It was only as this lightly clad generation finally came of age that they keened to the fact that one might turn a tidy profit by picking up a few odd wares and tasty fruits while streaking through the neighbor’s dimension and selling it for a handy profit across creation where they’d surely never seen a Chogg before, nor imagined that they came in a wide assortment of colors.

Thus did the great age of the Hegemony come to maturity. Soon there was a tidy Hegemonic Outlet everywhere one looked. And in equally tidy fashion did the Hegemonic order send out its most inquisitive Pans to discover what name they ought give to the communities springing up about their trading posts. This Inquisition ultimately discovered that the most satisfying name in Weench or any other tongue was without doubt ‘Voonville’, and so, by decree, has there been a Voonish town so named in the vicinity of each Smithers and Jouncey across the entire dimensional spectrum.

And it is against this alliance of Pans great and small that my wicked progeny has leveled his menacing stare. Should that great bastion of tasty fruits fall victim to the Budge-Nuzzard then I alone among Weems shall be shamed beyond measure. It shall not be! Come now, hairiest of allies! Come now to me, oh splendifferent Sha-Una and tuck me thoroughly in thine hair-concealed pouch. Bear me hence that no Nuzzard nor Budge alive should sully dear Jouncey and plunder his tidy home.

And in answer to my cries did the Sha-Una bound from the darkness and gather me up. Away we are now and without even the meagerest hint or clue where we go, we go there quickly, surely bounding into the unknown.

Jubilate!

2006-05-17T20:13:00.000-04:00

Alas, I am returned! No sooner had that dear and scarcely clad Jouncey pelted me with strange tales of the Enthoovian and the circumstances of his unfortunate rumpling than did that wonderfully behatted gnawer point to me and exclaim a glorius number.

“One Thousand!” he cried and I saw at once that he was not mistaken.

Thus did we begin a grand celebration in honor of that illustrious numeral. How grand it is and how satisfying to count to. But ere I could complete even a single counting of One Thousand did a familiar and moultering shape darken my sight. It was none other than that weighty denizen of long ago who had so thoroughly related the dire tale of Nine Nuts. His approach could mean but one thing--further news of Nine Nuts and his terrible plight.

“Speak on!” I cried to the weighty man. “And quickly must you to it, for I have another nine-hundred and eighty-three left to count ere the moon may rise! Speak on, I say!”

And quickly did he oblige.

“One hundred trains were coming right at Nine Nuts. The other nuts crackled and screamed! The nuts cracked! Inside there were noodles. The noodles were polka-dotted with stripes of red, yellow, and green. The one hundred trains got damaged. A policeman came to fix the damage, but then it crashed into a tar wagon with chocolate inside. Nine nuts was nervous.”

And then, having received this nervous news, did we pluck the weighty Moultriman from the door step and desposit him surely in Jouncey’s tidy home. I bid him come and join us in our celebratory counting and enticed him thereafter to jubilate raucously beneath a bloated moon. He did so gladly and thus in jubilant fervor did we count, even unto that gloriously satisifying number, One Thousand.

For nearly a month did our joysome exultations stretch. Until, at length, we three of counting mirth collapsed in a heap and there did sleep until dawn.

Now however, having squeezed from within me all that was happy and glad, I am left with my task at hand and the troubling knowledge that my wicked progeny is yet abroad. I can tarry here no longer, and lo, indeed does the road call to me now. I step upon it and though I cannot see its end, I know that the Enthoovian, all arumpled and bescroached, awaits me whence it leads.

Jouncey

2006-04-26T20:05:00.000-04:00

What then of that Jouncey fellow and his tidy home? I shall tell you first that upon entering therein he bid me relate my many unfoldings and sat in quiet, and scarcely-clad, contemplation as I graciously revealed them. When at width I had finished my tale he spoke again and wonderous things revealed. Ah, how naive have I been. And ah, how perilous now looms the threat of my wicked progeny.

Jouncey, you see, is my long sought Pan! Oh, how the wisdom of the Samurai is thus revealed! The Hegemony of Pan I have newly alearned has long peddled odd-wares and tasty fruits in many places, as they are the sole beings in all creation with the knack for travel between any and all dimensions with little more than a moments long squirting. This, as you might imagine, places them in the rather envious position of being the most excellent source of imports and exports anywhere to be found. And thus is the Smithers and Jouncey Trading Post of Voonville the sole franchise in operation hereabout. How tidy!

Then did I learn of terrible things. The Budge-Nuzzard has laid foul plans upon the Pan Dimension (and all the innocent Pans within), and the Hegemony of Pan has lately excercised its considerable influence to move me into action against my wicked progeny! Thus was I gnawed, and thus was that Lurker driven. I must admit that I questioned the wisdom of foregoing methods of simple conveyance in favor of hideous gnawing and Jouncey, sage and sure, merely smiled and posited that much more fun was to be had with a bit of unwelcome gnawing, and much more haste to be rendered as result.

Then did he present me with a curious box. Upon its lengthy flap was writ:

“Nuzzard Carton”

Ah hah! How handy! Then did he urge me to capture my Nuzzard there within. Should that Budge and Nuzzard one find entry into the domain of Pan, then from within that land of simple Pan’s shall he rule with a terrible clutching fist and exercise a lobidious dominion upon us all. Even fair Weem-Ti may fall at last into his terrible clutch!

"But how?" I cried. "How, oh Jouncey most sage!" For though a grand carton did I now possess, I had yet to find a way to confine the Budge once its Nuzzard was there emplaced!

Only one clue could he offer, and robiderant it was.

“Seek the Lair of the Rumpled Enthoovian!”

The Gnawer

2006-04-12T11:01:00.000-04:00

In fear did I freeze before the hideous gaze of that gnawing fiend! Closer he came and a terrific scream I scrame. Horror and despair!

Then the Sha-Una loped forward to greet the Gnawer and patted him hairily upon the head. I knew then the black face of betrayal. The Sha-Una had delivered me thus into the hands of my enemy! I wailed and shuddered my lobes. Alas, I am undone!

“Good heavens, man. Is that absolutely necessary?” spoke the Gnawer.

“Devour me now and work thy toothy deeds!” I cried.

“Good heavens! What a silly man!” he said, and the Sha-Una nodded in hairy approval.

“Will you not gnaw me hideously then?”

“Indeed I should say not!”

Then did that lightly-clad man reveal his purpose! And was it hideous? Was it hellish and pungent? Nay! In fact, I was soon to find that many things once thought lobidious and terrible were in fact the works of this marvelously behatted man and his efforts to aid my needful quest.

“Never met a person of Pan-Dimensional birth, I take it, eh?” he asked.

“You mean like the mice?”

“Good heavens, no! Let me explain.”

Then did he leap from the ground and land upon my right shoulder. He pointed a finger and ordered me to hasten. Having complied in bafflement, we soon came to a tidy sort of a building upon the edge of that Voonville town. “Smithers and Jouncey” proclaimed the shingle upon its face. Then the Gnawer leapt again from my shoulder and placed himself back upon the ground before me.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Jouncey, and this is my trading post.”

Then did I venture within that tidy place and witness wonderous things revealed. But alas, I must gloan in full before they may be here related.

Voonville

2006-04-03T17:41:00.000-04:00

Voonville! Dare I relate its splendor? Dare I here present its wondrous revelations? Indeed, I thought not. Therefore, shall I leave that land of the Northern Voon to your imagination and speak of things less brightly seen.

Ah! My nub throbs wildy in protest! So be it. The tale of my arrival shall I then reveal.

Note: in Weench ‘reveal’ is a term used almost exclusively by those of the cattle rearing industry, much in the same manner as those of the English tongue use ‘refried’ to oft times describe a mash of beany paste.

Accustomed as I was, after such a long passage within the Sha-Una, to the blissful rolling rhythm and bounce of my ally’s lope, you can imagine my discomfort to awake and find myself quite out of motion and seemingly still save for the slight rising of the breathing flesh that bore me hence. Indeed, I deduced at once that the Sha-Una no longer loped but instead seemed to have squatted upon the ground to await my waking.

With the caution of one long empouched I peered out from my moist enclosure to see whether I should like to dare again that Budge-infested world. For a great time did I spy the world from within, for I had no wish to be caught with or without my wares by those leaping minions of my wicked progeny. After a time I spied a figure beside the road. It was a woman upon whom age had twisted a single long and winding wrinkle that covered her entirely. Briefly, she shook her head in the direction of the Sha-Una and croaked upon us something that sounded like:

“Ain’t that awful, honey?”

As away she walked, a intended at once to watch her closely. Surely, if there were Leapers about, they would fall upon her and throunce her hideously. If, however, she escaped unharmed then I shall know the way before me safe, and extricate my body at last from that of the Sha-Una. Long did I gaze out upon that wrinkle-entwined crone, until at last she was utterly escaped and un-leapt-upon.

Then with glee did I spring forth from within that hairiest of allies and look at once for a towel to dry myself upon. Finding none however, I imposed upon the Sha-Una once more and dried myself thoroughly upon a great swath of back hair (I daresay I may never use a normal towel again!).

Now dry, I looked about me and saw upon the horizon a smallish sort of a town to the north. I broke into a feverish run and moments later I found myself joined by my ally. We sped the last mile in loping brotherhood and ere the moon could rise we stood at last upon the streets of Voonville. But then our exultations turned to woe as a hideous figure approached. Out of nightmare he came, a small rotund Englishman in a shiny black bowler—and little else! The Gnawer was come at last to end me!

Boon for the Tongueless

2006-03-20T16:57:00.000-05:00

Ever northward am I aloped within the Sha-una, and as we draw near to attaining that ville of Voonish wonder, I have found that the bulbous nub upon my lower left foot throbs with anticipation! Indeed, it wakes me often in the night to proclaim to me our ever narrowing proximity. Many times I have loosed my Thupping Cream upon it, and yet it throbs on with giddy, child-like, felicity. Its gathering restlessness can mean nothing more certain, I hope, than the imminent arrival of the Sha-Una at our destination.

I fear that for the past days, I have had little to do other than consider my giddy bulb and thup upon it smartly. But in the intervals between, I have gloaned greatly and come to a rather mermuntary concluding. You see, I have received, on occasion, conveyances from those of this Weem-scarce land that have within them only the merest command of the Weench tongue and its many glories. Thus did my long gloaning suggest that I provide these unfortunate tongueless with a glossary.

You will note, I am sure, that the near universal influence of all things Weem and Ti has resulted in an abundant similarity between Weench and English. Do not be fooled! Many words of great and noble history have become hideously mangled and twisted by the translation. For example, the wonderfully Weench word ‘Glossary’ has been, for reasons obscure to all intellect, contorted here to mean a sort of brief dictionary. Pshaw! Weench would never suffer such a word. The true meaning is thus:

Glossary-n. A smallish, and often beige, building in which dullards are made shiny.

Grand is it not? And yet so sedentary have the tongues of English wrought it.

Therefore, as I lay firmly empouched within that hairiest of allies, I am hard at work constructing a ‘glossary’ for the lesser-tongued. In fact, I endeavor to construct not only a tool of reading, but a tool that may be worn abroad so that all who see it may be instructed as well. Indeed, great things are at work. Soon shall my toilings bear fruit, and soon shall you taste their boon.

Enough piffle and blather! My nub calls me to thupping and then I must to work! And the Sha-Una must to Voonville soon!

Moist and Salty

2006-03-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

During my long residence within the Sha-Una, I have had much time to look within me ere I looked without. My first mentionable observance was that I no longer thought so dearly of my sweet abode. Indeed, this northward road has now usurped that place once so highly held. One might even say that the northward road now was one and same my sweet abode. Although the road is not so much my abode as is the Sha-Una. Since I was so thoroughly stuffed into this cavernous, warm, and somewhat moist marsupial pouch I have come to be quite fond of it, though I must admit that the salty taste it leaves upon one's tongue is to be avoided at all cost. All taste aside however, I find that it is a most peaceful and womblike abode. The bouncing along and the rhythm of my benefactor's loping soothes my road-weary bones and speaks to me of otherwordly comfort that I had never suspected could exist. I daresay that were it not for that bitter taste that I find upon my tongue each time I wake that I should like to stay here for at least some portion of eternity.

At intervals, I have ventured to let my eyes creep out of the pouch and spy what they may of the world without. Often they have seen little more than the blur of fields and trees rushing past, but on at least one occasion they suffered a robiderant sight the likes of with I should not wish to hear of again. Great waves of Leapers Wee they saw on all sides of the Sha-Una. They leapt and wailed and assailed that hairest of allies, and yet were undone by the very determination of the loping that bore me onward. Though wee they leapt they were no match for the hairy loping wonder that they hoped to arrest. And so did mine eyes report that the Sha-Una once more proved triumphant over all evils Wee and Leaping.

I know not how long I shall be borne herein, nestled deep within this hair and warmth. But be it days or hours, or even but another minute, I shall cherish each moist moment and hold it dear to my brain, for who knows what horrors wait whence this loping ends.

Cessation

2006-02-28T19:17:00.000-05:00

In my upper head there is a great celebration, for the cessation of my long plodding has come! Have I at last achieved that feverishly sought Voonville? Nay. But I have had contact once more with the Samurai and he has delivered me a welcome boon.

Not two days ago, the Samurai Contact Nodule began to tremble and throb mightily in my bag. This, I knew, could mean but one thing. The Master of Shadowy Might was at hand! I looked to and listened fro and soon upon the ground before me did he appear with a terrible harrumphing. I told him of those deplorable Legions of Leapers Wee and he leapt about and sniffed furiously. When he found no hiding Leaper he leapt again and spoke.

“Leapers Wee bad! Pan good! Find Pan!"

Once more he then harrumphed and thrust his eyes at me, and once more I cowered into my very body in fear. After a bit of fearful blathering I succeeded in relating to him my situation. I was indeed seeking to seek Pan and find it there whence it might be finally found. In Voonville did it surely lie, I assured him. He narrowed his bulging eyes and considered my words in what would have been silence if not for a phummorous gurgle that escaped his innermost self.

“Foolish Weem!” he cried. “Voonville in Canada! Very far!”

Such despair did I endure at those words as I have not tasted since I slept a loathsome night under a yammer tree in the Wold of Woe. Canada! Oh that I should be destined for such a bottomous place. Then within myself I summoned a great bloating of courage. For even though darkest Canada be my sojourn’s end, I shall gladly suffer such that I might wrest from my wicked progeny my Anne who is thoroughly captured and long un-nubbled.

Then did the Samurai loose a terrific howl, and in swift answer did that hairiest of allies lope into view from a perch unseen. The Sha-Una came upon us with hair and hope and saluted the Samurai smartly. The Samurai bulged his eyes back at the Sha-Una and pointed a shadowy finger northward.

“Canada!” he said and then was gone.

Ere I could still my trembling head, I was swept up and stuffed handily into a great, warm, and rather comfy marsupial pouch. I looked up and the Sha-Una smiled down at me there within. A great howl issued from that hairiest of allies and we were away at a great wonder of a loping speed the likes of which my plodding could never match. From within my pouch of flesh and hair I peered out at the passing world and marveled. With such speed to bear me onward, I shall see my Voonville soon.

A Sighting

2006-02-21T01:48:00.000-05:00

As my feet hurled me from that town of moultering folk, I dared nary a backward peering lest I slow my quickening plod and fall into the clutches of that leaping menace slurking now behind. The Samurai Contact Nodule, having lately been mashed with urgent need, pulsed in my bag as it beckoned its dark master to my side. How long I must needs wait for that master of shadowy might, my mind refused to divulge, if indeed it knew at all. A mind is a wiley and willful thing, and one must not deal with it too shrewdly, nor too lightly, lest it revolt, as mine is often wont to do.

But since that night of mashing madness and moultering men, I have a new representation to consider. I received it from one known to many as Fredmuck01@froop.net and here do I present it to you.

At first I found it harmless, and pitiful. For a time, I daresay I was rather flummoxed! But when I read the note from that mucky Fred, I shuddered my lobes and looked again. Here presented to you are his words:

“Budge-Nuzzard sighting!”

So did mine eyes flounce about to divine what Nuzzardous nature might hide within. But no matter how furiously they flounced about they spied no Nuzzard therein. What to make of it? Indeed I was near to casting aside this seemingly benign representation. And then my mind spoke a terrible thought. Surely no Nuzzard would permit itself to be so easily revealed. Surely a Budge and Nuzzard one would shun all form representation. And thus was this one now suspect. Its very absence of Nuzzardous nature within was proof indeed of that Budge-Nuzzard lurking in unseen secret. Such cunning! Such devilry! Nowhere upon the picture could I or mine eyes discover any clear Nuzzardous portent. Surely this was proof of my wicked progeny and his slinking thereupon.

Therefore did I remove the representation to my buttock pocket. Fredmuck01@froop.net I thank you kindly for this mighty clue. When I have attained my Voonville and settled there what mystery lies within, I shall at once attend again this place you have here empictured and accost my wicked progeny whence he lurks. Perhaps, ere my plodding ends, others of this world shall also spy and capture such remarvelant clues. If so, I shall be sure to here relate them, for your digestion.

Noodle Bugs!

2006-02-14T14:45:00.000-05:00

Upon the very outskirts of that Moultrie town, a thick and heavy man leapt from some clandestine cranny and called out to me.

“I sack! I sack!” he cried.

“Sack what?” said I.

What followed after shall, at length, require a great gloaning. This sacking man spoke to me these words, which in my fleeing state, I have not yet had time to properly relish. Thus were his words:

"The night was nasty and noisy. Nine Nuts is in his nest. He is a bird with a noodle on his head. He has a noisy frog on his head, too. The frog says, 'Never, ever, ever, ever, ever touch a thorn.' Nine Nuts just crackled. He felt a seal bump him in the back and he fell out of the noisy noodle tree and landed in another noodle tree. He saw noodle bugs!"

Intriguing indeed.

Then gone was that man into memory, and I alone once more upon that northward way.

Mashing

2006-02-05T23:46:00.000-05:00

Long did I evade those Leapers Wee, but the horror of their menace was ever upon my mind. My boldly-empurposed journey became a period of wandering. Oh, how that sun of yonder light did beat upon my brow with lashing fire and hottest heat. And oh, how that gibbous moon grew fuller yet and mocked me with its haughty glow!

When in utter despondence did my upper head assure my lower limbs that all was lost and soon consumed by evil deeds of Leapers Wee, did I chance alas upon what I hoped to be that glorious Voonville. Ended was that wandering madness, gone now away those slinking minions of evil deed.

And thus did I approach a man and thrust his way my hairily given card. He looked upon it with confusion. How odd, I thought, that such a man of Voonville should look thereon and know not of its address. And then did I learn of a terrible thing. This place, this town, was not my destination. It was, in fact, known by the name of Moultrie. Certainly, this was a town of foul and bottomous folk. I inquired of this moultering man the whereabouts of my long asearched Voonville and no answer could he give.

What to do? Surely that princely Edgar prodded me northward, and surely such a man would never lead me false. So then did I sit upon a rock and contemplate my way. How further north could my Voonville lie? Not far I dearly hoped. As I groped about in the hollow of my bag for oranges, I then took hold of a hopeful thing. The Samurai Contact Nodule. Did I dare to activate such and call him hence? Surely he could advise me well. And yet, his hunt for my wicked progeny could be foiled by such a calling. Such dire decisions did I long consider.

Then in the distance, I spied a small leaping. Even now those Leapers are close upon very presence. I cannot delay. So with bold and decisive fingers did I mash upon the button. The Contact Nodule glowed and pulsed with needful hope, then I took my feet and cast them to the ground.

“Plod onward!” I cried, and soon did they comply. With no backward glance I left that town of hideously moultering folk and fled to the north where somewhere in darkness lay that Voonish land of wandering's end.

Leapers Wee

2006-01-30T18:34:00.000-05:00

Night after day after night did I plod that northward way. And night after day after night did those eyes upon my nape espy. But on the third night after day, I am loathe to report that my wicked progeny once more ensnared me in a trap most foul and hideously lain.

As with my radiant sign I strode, I glimpsed afar a great crowd of small and leaping men. In terror I shook and waved at them my Sign to ward away their hungry molestations. Yet still they came and would not be diverted from what purpose I shudder to relish. I spun to run and found myself surrounded in the night by these repellent men. Though remarvelantly wee in stature they loomed titanous in their foreboding and their leaping menace.

So had my end come. So then did I cast away all hope of vengeance upon that Budge-Nuzzard so evilly born. So did I wail and quiver and wait for my leaping fate to be delivered.

But lo! Upon my nape fell once more that gazing, and from no Wee Leaper did it fall. Out of the night leapt a figure, heroically loping and hairily bounding. The Sha-Una. That hairiest of allies! Hope reborn of tangled hair and great and loping gait!

The Sha-Una opened within its hair a cavernous (and quite handy) marsupial pouch and from it drew a clutch of spiny pods. These spiny pods he flung about and many Wee Leapers were pierced and fled whence they had come. Mighty weapons at hand, I loosed my secret battle cry and from that cave-like pouch cast spiny pods with Weemish fury!

In short order, the once terrible legion of Wee Leapers was dispatched. Before that hairiest of allies could be thanked and questioned, I found myself alone once more with much to relish and gloan. Having fled quickly from my lately saved presence The Sha-Una was again gone.

Though the night has seen a mighty victory of Weem over Wee, the event troubles me. It seems that my wicked progeny has grown in both robiderance and power! He now commands Minions! Rarely am I wont to see Minions in the hands of mine enemy, and such Minions as these more so than usual.

But ah, how blessed am I to be ever awatched by that hairily heroic Sha-Una. Therefore, onward do I plod in victory, bearing within my upper head the sure knowledge that though my foe wields now that legion of Leapers Wee, that I have an ally upon this darkest road and by flung defense of spiny pods acasted may all budging evil yet be undone.

Awatched

2006-01-24T18:59:00.000-05:00

I am now awatched and sore afraid.

As my plodden journey onward goes, I have, in the night I fear, gained a companion, though boon or ill I cannot say. In darkness, the moon, so gibbous and bloated, my way did brightly light. And then I felt upon my nape a gazing. Hideous it was, and urblementary. I hurled my eyes about to see what eyes I felt aseeing me, but no eye spying did I see. I bid my feet plod on, and bid such repellent gazing be flushed in whole from my upper head. My feet heeded well. My upper head, however, cast itself in rebellious form and tormented me with suspicion and worry. Oh, how then I loathed my treacherous head!

As my very mind fought to stay its contumacious self, I attempted to fathom the reason for my unseen watcher. Anne, I remembered, was so hideously awatched and shortly thereafter rudely handled and thoroughly captured by my wicked progeny. Were these spying eyes those very same? Surely not. Would that Budge and Nuzzard one chance itself to come so near? No, my wicked progeny would dare not, and did he dare decide to do what he otherwise did dare not, then surely the Samurai would soon appear to set some snaring trap to deliver up his prey. No, these eyes were no Budge, nor Nuzzard known. But known or not, what repellent circumstance had drawn them hence?

It was then that I flung my eyes upon that moon so brightly hanging. So gibbous! So bright--too bright! Indeed I found myself ringed about in light as if the very sun had flung itself upon me (though I did not burn). No moon-glitter is this. It was my Sign. I knew that it was finely wrought and proudly scrawled, but such a luminescence as that which the wonder, the goodness, and the glory of that radiant sign produced have I never heretofore gazed upon. It was this, no doubt, that had drawn those repugnant eyes my way.

So be it. I shall not cast aside that which bears my truest creed. Come now, eyes of night! Come now and throw your gaze upon my finely-haired nape! I fear thee not and never shall succumb. Know thee now defiance!

And thus did I raise my fist and onward plod, awatched.

Signs

2006-01-21T01:32:00.000-05:00

As I onward plod, I have relished within my upper head and to a concluding come. A Sign I must have. The wisdom of that lately met and daringly liked Edgar has not escaped me, nor has his open wobinity been in vain. That sign he bore was a beacon, a proclamation to all the world of his innermost dream and sole intent. "Going south--Hungry" had he scrawled upon a board of wrinkle and tear, and therefore to the farthest Weem did he hurl his purpose. So driven was his fervor that he sought that southward way and shunned all food till his sojourn should end in victory. Such determination! Such profundity.

Yes. I must have a sign. A noble screed to herald my quest and drive me thence. And thus have I endeavored. At length (and no small width) I believe that I have, at last, achieved the summation of all my unfoldings, gloanings, and causes for bold action, and writ it proudly with two words of renown and great portent. Yes a sign. A sign that a Weem adrift may wear with pride.

See then The Sign:

Perhaps someday I will have chance to repay that princely Edgar, who wildly spat and largely smelt. Until then, he looms upon my memory like mounds upon the Smolden Vole.

North

2006-01-20T00:03:00.000-05:00

I have indeed gone to action. That sweet abode of my arrival is now but a dollop of memory within my upper head. I must confess that in my weaker moments, I have longed for it and three times now have turned back to seek my solace within. But at length I have turned my back on my turning back and hence have come far and now gloan upon it.

My nub-ladened feet carried me to a place of great intersection, the manner of which I have only spied from on high during my troublesome venture to Gnashville. Indeed here have I met others whom I suppose to be Weems as well. I approached one of these and begged of him the way and manner of Voonville. His name was Edgar and he spat upon the ground wildly. His odor was large and his wobinity plainly open. I daresay I liked him.

"North" he said with terrible dignity. Then he showed me his sign and I was pleased. Indeed his Weemish nature was plainly written upon it. I must consider whether such a sign would do me well. Without further delay I turned to the north and bid my feet plod on, and am happy to report that they obeyed without complaint or snobbery.

North then. To Voonville where answers lie in wait.

Action!

2006-01-17T18:37:00.000-05:00

It seems that the Lurker, on whom I have lavished such suspicion and outrage, is likely to be my undoing. After his repellent molestation of my previous update I accosted him whence he lurked and shook him terribly.

"Down with you and likewise your master!" I shouted and smote him awfully upon what I supposed to be his most tender portion. And did he cry out? Did he relent and groan such utterances as I demanded? He did not. And my anger waxed large. I smote him. And still his cries and agony were denied me!. What shall become of me, a Weem of grand descent, that I should fail to render such a Lurker to quivering and surrender? How then shall my lately sat-upon(and hideously patted) Anne view such a one as I? With detestation! Woe!

So then did I cast aside my foe. As he clattered to the floor of the abode and lay at my feet, I began again to consider my plight, not of the Lurker (no, not that), rather that of my wicked progeny. All became clear. The Lurker is sent here to torment me--NAY--to distract me. Oh how abhorrently my progeny draws his plans! Oh, how easily am I entangled thus!

No more. I shall away! To Voonville must my feet now plod with bulging nub and lately ungnawed gait. Though my way is long, I bid a biting farwell to this sweet abode and flap my hand its way. No more. No more to be tormented thus by that pan-like minion of my eternal foe. Now for action.

But first I shall gather the tools of my vengence.

Calibrated Eye of a Weem
Thupping Cream (so soft)
Hairily-Given Card
Clandestine Jellies
Writing Tool (black)
Samurai Contact Nodule
Bag for Oranges

Pray these shall aid me well. Destination, I seek thee now and thy name is Voonville!

2006-01-13T17:31:00.000-05:00

[this post most terrible has been censored for the maintenance of sane mind]

To Rub and Swipe

2006-01-09T20:27:00.000-05:00

Upon inspection of the curious bulging of my lower-left foot, I there discovered a bulbous nub.

Certainly, the presence of such a nub is not entirely unheardof, nor even unwelcome. But its location upon the very place so recently Gnawed casts a gloomy suspicion upon the whole matter. Given the pleasant look of such a nub upon my flesh, I put all malicious thoughts from my mind, and then massaged it thoroughly with a swipe of Thupping Cream. I had hoped such a rubbing and swiping would soothe my foamy mind. But alas, I am far too set upon to find so easy a reprieve.

The recent likeness of my wicked progeny having so hideously appeared upon the Lurker, has set inside me a most melancholy mood. The image haunts my every other moment, and those moments not so evilly ahaunted are in truth equally consumed by visions of my long un-nubbled Anne caught in what torments I dare not conceive (though they are unwantedly conceived in me)! What am I to do? Even this very hour I have slipped into a troublesome afternoon nap, and been officiously troubled by dreams of that foot-Gnawing which I'm certain you will recall with repugnance.

The Samurai has made no further contact since he was so mightily smitten upon the streets of Gnashville. Neither has that most hairy of allies, the Sha-Una, dared again to lope my way. Ah-Hah! What is this thought which now appears? It is a deep remembrance of the address so hairily handed me by the Sha-Una. I go now to find it and look upon it in earnest.

carton

I return. And none too soon I see. There above this very utterance do I spy a wayward word. By no finger of mine did such a lobidious word come to be here. Perhaps the Lurker is again at large. I shall see to his capture. But ere I do, I shall here relate my thinkings upon that so hairily given card.

"1023 Winderwheedle Way
Voonville, WT"

Such is the writing thereon. The meaning of such an address-like message is obscure indeed. Does the Sha-Una wish me to visit this place with my very body? Surely not, as it clearly lies across the span, in far Weem-Ti. These things shall I consider as I go now to again swipe and rub with a squeezing of Thupping Cream. Immediately thereafter shall I seek out that Lurker most sly, and inquire of him the meaning of 'carton'.

A Letter Home

2006-01-04T22:31:00.000-05:00

Dear WONAS,

Greetings from afar. I am writing this most serious of conveyances in order that you may further prepare such Weems as may follow. Great Overseer, I humbly bring to your attention these matters that I have found myself most hideously unprepared for upon my arrival! Surely, your magnificent orientation speech and subsequent training periods seemed useful, but in brute actuality they seem to have fallen far short.

For example, much dialogue and study was afforded me on the subject of Clapping. Yet, upon my arrival I have found that only once have I occasioned use of such a skill (though a wonderful skill it is). However, your glorious orientation failed even the slightest mention of Lurking, Leaping, Glaring, Smiting, Feezing, or Crochet--not even to mention Gnawing. I must confess that this lack of preparedness on my part has left me quite agast. Indeed, I often awaken in the night fearful and quivering as I ponder what other horrors my unpreparedness shall visit upon me!

Therefore, most Indibnible One, I beseech you. Train your Weems carefully that they might not fall to such depths as I. Save them the horrors, spare them the Glaring. Such things I beg of you on bended limb.

A.S. Peterson, A Weem Adrift

P.S.(Limp not overmuch, and forsooth!)

Note: Having written this conveyance, it now occurs to me that the sending of it proves difficult. I shall tuck it away until a way is found to trasmit it back home. Ah, the ways here are strange! And I am but newly arrived.

Note Addendum: It occurs to me after noting the above note that the difficulty plaguing the transmission of simple conveyances is another issue that the WONAS shall surely need to attend. Perhaps I will write another conveyance, but not now. I feel a strange bulging of my lower left foot, I must attend it.

Relurked

2005-12-21T19:14:00.000-05:00

Awaking early this very day I intended at once to be quaffied and preened. But, I thought, let me first attend my rumbling tummy and therefore fill it with a colloidal mixture of crunchy bits and a tasty squeezing of bovine delight. And so did I endeavor. But upon the opening of my cupboard I discovered once more that Lurker most sly. I siezed upon it and took it from lurking into light. It was then I saw that repugnant visage so etched upon it. Presented below are representations of that most horrid finding.

See how scandalously lurks that errant knave:

And upon it now I spy a repellant figure, in likeness and robiderance it is the very essence of the Budge-Nuzzard:

Surely there is here affixed some fetid hue:

So, there revealed upon the Lurkers bottom, is as sure a representation as was ever made of a Budge-Nuzzard. Does the Lurker threaten me? Or warn me? Is this the meaning of the Samurai's order to "Seek Pan"? I shall think on such things ere I am quaffied and preened.

Gloaning

2005-12-19T22:12:00.000-05:00

Having lately yawned and shortly thereafter relished, I gloan now and shall relate it.

My first thought upon my arrival in Gnashville was, Oh, what a stupid. Thankfully, that, having made little sense to me, was neatly followed by the rather more lucid thought: Corn everlasting! Therefore did I fall upon my long uneaten dinner and consume it.

My search then began in earnest (ear nest? How delightful). I looked high, I looked low, my back began to hurt, I decided against the looking low and looked high again. And then did I spy a strange thing. A terribly hairy sort of a person was loping toward me and speaking without punctuation. This, I thought, was that most parsupplimous of persons, The Sha-Una.

"Ihaveseenit" the Sha-Una said.

And I was too set upon to reply. The Sha-Una pointed a hair-fraught finger toward a hideous nest of shadows that crouched on the street corner. I looked feverishly into that blackness and saw there terror and hair. The Budge-Nuzzard sat loathsomely upon my Anne and patted her with evil intent. She seemed unhurt (though greatly sat upon) but either asleep she was, or unconscious. The Nuzzard then smiled at me odiously.

It was at that moment that The Samurai leapt from a nearby lamp post and assailed my wicked progeny. Their battle was terrible to behold, and was very loud. Many people upon the street stopped to Gnash at them as they fought, but to little effect.

Arise, I thought, and moved to save my nubbled one whilst the Budge and Nuzzard were yet engaged. But, alas, too late. The Nuzzard having seen my rising, swept up Anne in his leg and smote the Samurai to the ground. Then he was gone. Then he was gone. By which I mean formerly the Nuzzard and lattermost the Samurai.

Then from my leftmost side I felt a bristly hand upon my elbow. It was The Sha-Una. Into my hand was pressed a business card and then that hairiest of allies was away with a great loping that filled my upper head with wonder.

Thus, did the card read:

1023 Winderwheedle Way
Voonville, WT

Ah, such travails!

Returning

2005-12-15T17:51:00.000-05:00

My sojourn has come to an end, and hideously so.

The darkness of Gnashville have I encountered, and countered it with my lighter shades. It has been no easy endeavor, and I expect that a great yawning must take place before all is clear.

This much will I say now: Anne is yet lost, the Budge-Nuzzard is yet at large, and the Samurai has tested his worth and found it equalled! But hope plods on in the form of the Sha-Una. Alas, these events must be properly relished within my upper head before a full disclosure of such unfoldings can commence.

Having returned I found the Lurker in the Dark gone, escaped, fled to some repellently unlit corner to once more lurk in silence.

More later, I go now to yawn and relish.

The Offering

2005-12-11T15:39:00.000-05:00

I have recieved a most parsupplimous communication from a source unknown. Upon my journey I was approached by a large and loping man of indistinct color.

"Heave not!" said he and held before me an offering. "You must see."

I was at first given over to repellance and coughing by his appearance. But at length I could glean no ill-intent within his loping gait. I took what he offered and siezed upon it with my mind. It was an envelope! I looked again to my large and loping friend and found him retreating whence he came at a handsome gallop.

I present to you now, in its entirity, with no redaction, nor edited letter, nor tearing away of any meaning seen, this most troubling communication.

"...Ihaveseenit..."

And thus was it signed: "...The Sha-Una..."

A most dark, and fearsome nature oozes from the contained ellipses, so carelessly and needlessly placed they are! And what am I to make of the pitiless murder of spacing and rhythm. Lastly, what evil lurks in those words that are both one, and many. I must confess to some distress.

There also, emplaced within the enveloping paper, did this representation lay:

Hideous.

Certainly, there is here borne some Nuzzardous trait within. And yet it is no Nuzzard living depicted. I shall keep these things in mind, verily.

Gnashville draws near. I must collect my wits and number them carefully.

Leaving

2005-12-11T00:22:00.000-05:00

Upon waking, I dared again my doorstep. And indeed, found gone my note of reply. Certainly now, the Nuzzard quakes in fear.

Given long thought and much thinking I have concluded that the finding—nay—the rescuing of Anne is not likely to be accomplished from within my sweet abode. Newly arrived as I am, I had hoped to make no long incursion to the outer places of the world before, at least, my thirtieth, and perhaps my thirty-fourth day. Alas, it must be otherwise!

I therefore looked upon a map that I discovered placed with nustling secrecy amongst the books of the abode and sought to peer at it intently that I might find what place upon it my wicked progeny should most likely be drawn toward, and there hide most hideously.

My eyes tore at the paper with great need! That Anne should be somewhere upon it and Budge-ladened against her very will was foremost upon my eyes as they bounded across the map with furious looking.

A place named Alabama I saw, and cast aside, for no Budge nor Nuzzard either should wish to set limb nor lobe in so named a place. Onward leapt my searching eyes.

Wilmington they saw and dismissed it utterly! A Budge-Nuzzard has never yet been known to Wilm and that it should flee my wrath to a place filled with such is madness most sure.

And then upon a spot upon the paper my eyes smote a terrible blow. This they told me was the place. No other place amapped could bear so cretinous a name. Without doubt my Nuzzard would seek such a place and nustle deep within.

Thus did I plan my course. Thus did I resign myself to bitter hells and fouler smells. Anne must not long abide such as she is forced. Away! Away!

I am leaving, on a craft of loud and quivering air. I do not know when I shall be here again. Oh Anne, I loath such departure!

I go into darkness, and Gnashville is its name.

Of Notes and Madness

2005-12-11T00:15:00.000-05:00

See then the above representation. Look with care upon it's maddening content. Guard well your mind against its hideous form.

And see below the very essence of a fist raised against that Budging tyranny that even now threatens my Anne's every dimpled toe.

The Note

2005-12-08T11:22:00.000-05:00

Anne is lost. When morning came and she did not, I left the abode. The Lurker I left to its own designs, for however weighty the import of the pan, so much more weighty was the weight of Anne. But when I stepped across the threshold and out into the now Budge-infested world, I found despair. Upon the ground lay a note writ by a hideous hand. None but the Budge-Nuzzard could compose such a maddening scrawl. With trembling I seized upon the lonesome note and examined it. It's words were thus:

"No Pot like the Pan...except Anne."

Oh, what purpose drives such hate! What budging madness fuels my wicked progeny! What lobidious torments does it visit, even now, upon my Anne's delicate joints. I dare not think of it, lest I wax toward forbidden lunacy. No, instead I shall compose a note to answer this most heinous of notes.

Having thought long upon the content of such a note, I found that petty letters, and words, and sentences did not properly express the violence and rage I intended to visit upon my wicked progeny when finally our final confrontation shall commence. Therefore, no words, nor letters, nor sentences, shall I include. The note, the answer, the challenge, therefore, is thus:

"!"

And so did I thrust this note upon my doorstep. Now I have resumed my interogation of the Lurker, and my mind is pleased with the certain terror that my note will, no doubt, instill. The tables are turned and the Nuzzard must make the next move!

The Watcher

2005-12-07T20:24:00.000-05:00

Woe of Joys! Joy of Woes! Let me explain.

I had communications today from Anne! Ah, with joy did my ears hear her voice. But such joy must soon turn to a bottomous woe. She was most apologetic about her former loathing of me. I insisted that such loathing was of no import but she thought otherwise and convinced me that however loathsome she thought me before, she now considered me most loathless.

It was then that her communication showed its darker nature. It seems that she is now certain that she is being followed by unknown eyes (yes, more than one!). She accounts that she had neither heard, nor seen these eyes, but that they must be of a slinking and hideous composition as she has at times felt them upon her and gleaned their ill-intent.

"It is the Budge-Nuzzard," I proclaimed in terror, but she bid me make no rapid assumption. In afterthought I must agree that a Budge-Nuzzard, espescially one such as mine, is not easily concealed nor does such a one often slink with any mentionable skill.

I told her that I should come to her, to guard her every sweating pore against those eyes, but she refused my aid. She will come to me, she decided, and in such coming perhaps the slinking and ill-seeing eyes will be drawn out, and thence awalloped.

It has been nearly eighty-seven minutes since we terminated our communication. Still she has not arrived. I fear the very bad, and possibly the worst. Ah, to have the joy of her voice so withered by the evil of her watchedness. It is almost more than I can sit.

I can do naught but pass the time. I must wait. The Lurker in the Dark waits with me. It still has not moved, nor spoken. I believe that it is close to its breaking point.

Lurker in the Dark

2005-12-06T00:08:00.000-05:00

See now the Lurker. In darkness it slept but could not hide. The wisdom of the Samurai has exposed it. I have placed it upon the table and lighted it well to reveal it's hideous secrets. As yet it has not moved, nor spoken, nor given forth any clue. It is wiley.

I shall observe it for a time.

The Search Begins

2005-12-05T17:45:00.000-05:00

"Seek Pan!" he urged me. And thus do I endeavor.

But how does one seek Pan? Seek the Pan? Seek a Pan? Oh, that I should be newly arrived and so heavily burdened. I must at length send word to the WONAS (Weem-Ti Overseer for New Arrival Settlement) and voice my unrest.

So I sat upon my sofa and sought to seek Pan. Where to start? At the length of a short finger I came to my first clue. I have here transcribed it for you to peruse. (I must at length send word to Meriam-Webster and express my delight.)

Pan- 1. A part: a portion [indeed a mighty clue!] 2. The large division of an exterior wall. [hrrmm] 3. A tab, lappet, or floating ribbon used as an adornment on a dress. [here I am most befuddled]

So there then was the first of many dubious clues in my search. I shall further relate to you the others that I spied to be of most import. The lesser ones I shall flush from my brain, and yours as well if you wish me to.

Pan- v. c. To cook in a pan in a small quantity of fat or water. [this has a most malignant sound to it] e. To attack with harsh critiscism; to ridicule mercilessly. [Heaven forbid this clue lead me thence!]

yet another...

Pan- n. a title of nobility, used honorifically. [that I should seek one such as myself seems odd indeed.]

...and hideously more...

Pan- The God of flocks and pastures. He was regarded as causing sudden and groundless fear. [certainly, this trait, if none other, is shared by my wicked progeny!]

When I had read these things, I thought long upon them. Then I became hungry and ate a pizza. As I prepared that most delightful, Lord of the Pies for my eventual consumption, I happened to spot, lurking in my cupboard, yet another lobidious clue. There, crouched low in the corner, cloaked in shadow and must, lay a simple "pan". I took it from its hiding spot in the nether-kitchen and contemplated it a long while. My initial confrontation with this manifestation of "Pan" in the Miriam and Webster left me doubtful about its importance. So benign it seemed that I flushed it utterly from my upper head. But now, having seen it lurking so quietly in my nether-kitchen, I find that I must recontemplate that which was once contemplated and properly aflushed.

I have not come yet to any proper conclusion regarding the Lurker in the Dark (so have I named the lurking "Pan") and it now sits in full illumination upon my table where I may watch its every move. So far, I should point out, it has not moved. But where Nuzzards and the Samurai are concerned, all may be suspected!

Briefly

2005-12-02T22:23:00.000-05:00

I haven't much time. I write only to ask if you should like an orange. If so, I haven't any.

Vision of Darkness!

2005-12-01T23:41:00.000-05:00

Look, if you dare, into the darkness and see what terrible things have befallen me. Help at last, but oh, how worrisome its form!

http://movies.lionhead.com/movie/16526

Contact

2005-12-01T10:05:00.000-05:00

At night he came. And terrible was his coming, like the rushing of a foul and broken wind. He entered the abode and darkness surrounded him, or perhaps he surrounded himself in darkness! Oh, how terrible that such help should be sought. Oh, how terrible the Nuzzard and the Budge that brought me thus.

“I come through fire! Through very hot fire!” he shouted at me. I squirmed.

In haste, I explained to him the odious tale and all the unfoldings since my arrival, just as I had done to Anne. Each word of my speaking caused his nose to scrunch in terrible anger. He harrumphed terrifically when I spoke of the Budge-Nuzzard and I nearly flung myself into unconsciousness in my fear and trembling. Oh, such harrumphing! I shudder to think of it.

When I spoke to him of the small Englishman and his hideous gnawing, his eyes widened and the sounds of deep contemplation wafted from his upper head. I longed to know the conclusions drawn of such intellectual flexing, but alas, he spoke not of his wafting contemplations.

Then I told him of the great and fearsome Leaping. I related briefly my fanciful remembrance of what I thought I heard the Nuzzard say. I dwelt upon it most shortly for I had no wish to be thought mad. But when I spoke the words, “No Pot like the Pan,” his eyes bulged and quivered and he loosed a harrumph that nearly set me blind and lump-stricken!

“What!?” I cried out to him. “What horrors have you seen in the words!?”

He was quiet then, for a long stretch of time. Perhaps over a minute. His eyes jumped, and bulged, and looked about terribly. Then at last, he spoke.

“Find Pan!” he said and then drew his sword. He flourished the blade and I thought for certain he meant to stick it into me. I hoped that he would not. Then he leapt about the room, swiping the sword through the air and sniffing the air with his loathsome nose. At last, when I thought the leaping and swiping, and sniffing had gone on enough, I stepped forward and spoke to him again.

“Haven’t we had about enough of leaping, and swiping, and sniffing?” I asked. He harrumphed. I trembled.

“Find Pan!” he cried again, “I catch! I bring here!” And now he leapt across the room and thrust his bulging eyes at me. Such trembling I have not known since the Nuzzard so terribly smote me! “You pay!” he said.

My eyes fluttered in terror and when they had stilled, the Samurai was gone.

I must think on his words. They are most unsettling.

Anne

2005-11-27T17:24:00.000-05:00

I did not forget my meeting with Anne. It is nearly a year since last I smelt her in the Sprong, on the fields of Weem. So long agone.

Enough of my ruminations. Dire matters are afoot! She was, as I feared, distant and angry. When I had divulged to her all the happenings since my arrival she seemed, sad, afraid, perhaps even shaken. One thing is certain however, she loathes me now, as never before. She cursed me for a fool (and that may be!) and spoke no more of my plight. I fear now that the Budge-Nuzzard has rent from me that which I have long desired and hoped for. Anne.

I had dearly hoped to have her assistance with the Budge-Nuzzard. Now it is utterly at large I can do little to stay its menace. Her dismissal leaves me but one hope. The Samurai will surely make himself known soon. I pray.

Note: Here then is a fair representation of this afternoons unfoldings:
http://movies.lionhead.com/movie/14822

Birthing...reborn!

2005-11-27T13:58:00.000-05:00

I have here reconstructed a fair facsimile of the birthing:
http://movies.lionhead.com/movie/14350

Note that whatever terror you glean from the watching, the reality was far more hideous.

More later. The Samurai has been contacted and I hope soon to hear news of him.

Exodus

2005-11-26T14:24:00.000-05:00

My attempt to capture a representation of my wicked progeny has gone awry. Upon entering the far room of the abode, the Nuzzard, seemingly separated from its Budge (something I had not thought possible), leapt from the ground and smote me. Before I had regained my senses and my feet (all of them) the Budge-Nuzzard had recomposed its former union and sprung through the open window. At the moment of its springing I fancied that I heard it whisper, "No Pot like the Pan", but upon this point I am by no means certain. Another matter for the Samurai to contemplate I expect.

At length, I reaquired my Calibrated Eye of a Weem which had been flung from my hand in the terrible smiting. I cautiously exited the abode and looked with horror as the Budge-Nuzzard leapt the enclosing fence and then sat upon the ground to glare at me most hideously. I approached as near as I dared and bring to you now these representations.

Note: I must remember to keep my meeting with Anne. She may be displeased.

See above: "The Leaping"

See above: "The Glaring"

Evidence

2005-11-25T12:25:00.000-05:00

Hideously represented above is evidence of the small gnawing Englishman. Note the espesically bottomous red marks left upon my lower left foot by what may have been fangs of an odious sort.

Having calibrated the eye of a lesser known Weem (he was finished with it) to produce representations of various import (as you have already seen evidence of above), I have decided to attempt to capture a fair representation of the Budge-Nuzzard. It lurks yet in the far room of the abode where I removed it upon it's birthing for my own safety during the night. I go now into its den, Calibrated Eye of a Weem in hand.

Portents

2005-11-25T11:55:00.000-05:00

I was awakened this morning by a strange gnawing sensation in my lower left foot. My first thought was that the end had come sooner than I had foreseen and I was being slowly consumed by my wicked progeny. I was fairly wrong. The source of the gnawing, I discovered, was a small rotund English man in a shiny black bowler (and little else!). This odd little man had the greater portion of my lower left foot firmly seated in his mouth and was patiently gnawing away at it as if it were no more than a cup of afternoon tea.

"Good Heavens!" I said, and the gnawing Englishman kindly slipped my lower left foot out of his mouth and dried it with his handkerchief in a most gentlemanly fashion.

"Yes, quite," he replied, then promptly disappeared leaving no sign at all of his former presence, other than the merest smell of wet hanky.

I knew at once that this was no coincidence. This was an omen. Whether ill or otherwise I couldn't guess. I shall have to contact the Samurai. He will know what to do.

The Advent of Budge

2005-11-25T00:34:00.000-05:00

It was born today. I'm sorry.

Consider everything that follows, from now to the bloody end, to be my humble attempt at atonement for what is now loosed into being.