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.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Leapers Wee

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.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006


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.

Saturday, January 21, 2006


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.

Friday, January 20, 2006


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.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006


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!

Friday, January 13, 2006

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

Monday, January 09, 2006

To Rub and Swipe

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.


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'.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

A Letter Home


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.