Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Words From a Life-Rafte

Well, my Gentle Readers and lovers of Reason, I have taken pen in hand today to eke out a response or two to the inter-continental flow of reqwests for aide and consolation. My Assistant and I are on a journey of either plunder or mercy, (depending on how conditions meete us at our destination), but the freqwent lulls of inactivity should allow us time to corespond. The transo-fax/ship-to-shore link has been established, and if the portable word-juicer I have fashion'd from the lifeboat's filteration system works, we will be back in business.

My long-suffering Editore no doubte rekons us in dereliction of duty, but as readers of my autobiography well know, he is "Sharp as a marble", (pp.101-156), and "Worthy of only the rudest effigy, not of paper or straw but lumpen ash or tallow." (pp.238-338).

My Assistant has been reluctant to expound upon my Employere's lack of surplus neurons, inpart because he is drawing a small stipend from him as per the terms of his indentured servitude. I aim to correct this conflicte-of-interest in a future episode by declaring Scribble Derelict Property and assuming charge of his case under the Orphans and Domestic Cats Act of 1744. This will be a surprise for him upon his 16th year, once I have determined what calendar date to set for his birthday.

Now, for the qwestions:

Dear Finkfugger, I am incarcerated in the Tower of London for a crime I didn't commit without a really good reason. I need assistance to get my GED and become a dental technician, which has been my dream since I started this sentence. What tv-advertised courses can you recommend?

I fancy I've seen the late-night adverts you are referring to. By chance have you seen the one for the Sleep Number Mattress System? You can adjust the pressure in the hidden air bladders independently, to accomodate your and your sleepmate's needs.

Next Qwestion:

Darling Son, this is your Mother. Pick up! Are you there? Pick up! Well, I guess you aren't in. Where have you been? All your parole hearing notices are piling up in the hallway. I have sent back the orphans you saw fit to leave with us, we are elderly people, Son, and can't take care of your hobbies for you when you're away. I have talked to Dr. Hippodrome and he insists he'll see you again even disregarding what happened last time.

Dear Mother, I told you never to call me here. I appologize for this laspe in decorum, listeners. Please don't adjust your browser. Read on:

Dear Spinkbottle,
I want to find my birth parents who abandoned me here on Earth 17 years ago. What should I do, contact some kind of Galactic Agency or hire a Tracker to find them?

-sincerely, Stranded in the Solar System

Dear Stranded, I have made an extensive search in the local star-cluster for your parents. I also enlisted an expert, Dr. Alfred Albrecht at the University of California, Berkeley, where he is charge of the SETI project (Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence). He made the following observation:

"None of my students want to see me after class! Why don't they seek me out for the wisdom I can offer? I even made an office interview a required part of the class, and 93% chose to take a reduced grade instead."

As we can see from this expert testimony, the chances of finding your parentage and alas even your birth-world are slim and none. But Fear Not! Finknottle is here to help. As we speak my lawyers are bribing the appropriate authorities to make way for my Orphanarium. Soon I'll be able to benefit from the relaxed labore standards and also give the galactic homeless a place to receive their welfare checks, which I have generously decided to cash for you. This project is not, as my critics charge, merely a tax dodge, it is also a scheme to produce the finest sweat-shop jute in the tri-country area.

I wish you all good luck, and until next time,
-Finknottle, Esq.

1 comment:

Editor said...

Charlie Parsley said...

well provided wordsmith finknottle. wanting of sustenance in these dust bowl environs, your text is a hearty meal, so chunky, a meal one may eat with a fork.

having little to do as the farming concern is unproductive, I while away the hours contemplating the wind patterns upon the prairie grass behind my barn.

The crops are yellowing. The oil well runs dry. Its empty pumping fills the night with a faraway, plaintive cry of a motherless coyote. Your inspiration is appreciated now more than ever. be thee well fair sir.

9:00 PM
Blogger Wagstaff said...

It's amazing that Finknottle is so concerned for his readers in such trying circumstances. I fear for the word-juicer's safety and pray for Finkie and Scribble's safe return. God be with you, Mr. Finknottle.

10:08 AM