The Budge-Nuzzard

My brain has children. This is one of them. Click post titles for the podcast version.

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Location: Weem-Ti

Newly arrived and hideously gnawed.

Sunday, November 27, 2005


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:


I have here reconstructed a fair facsimile of the birthing:

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.

Saturday, November 26, 2005


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"

Friday, November 25, 2005


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.


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

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.