Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

[Weasel Mender]

Of course we should. And we need to contact kevinkinney to get some of his special natural fiber outdoor clothing and expedition tents. We need to harness all the resources we can from this forum for such an adventure.

HOORAY we are going

We will certainly need some place to stay on our trip for sure!!!


Hmmm, and of course, our leather work will need to be done by Cavscout. (I wonder, does the beast smell fresh leather?)
Cavscout's leather.....a "must have"

Anyone got a lightweight cooler we WILL need storage for the beer....... Do you think Mr.Malt will loan us his trunk (filled of course)

Lets go guys we need to be ready for this adventure

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 4


A few weeks after the ball. I found myself standing before the Great Golden Hall of X Marks the Scot, having been met at the station by Dee, one of the Heralds of the League of Moderators. I greeted him warmly as I too had once been a proud bearer of the silver horn of a Herald. With Dee at the wheel of one of our black Saloons we had driven up the steep road to the gleaming golden hall perched atop a great mountain. A flock of chickens scurried from the driveway out of the path of the big car. “Chickens?“ I asked Dee. Dee shrugged and noted it was some new enterprise of our aged butler Spasm. The car came to a halt and stepping out I paused a moment to gaze at the golden spires and admire the great Saltire flag flapping proudly above them.

My moment of repose was broken by a labored wheezing and a strange dragging sound. From around a corner of the building slowly appeared Spasm our aged butler with his back toward me. He held a leather leash in both hands and was pulling something yet unseen from my vantage point with great effort. As with most things concerning Spasm, I found myself both fascinated by and dreading the results of his latest endeavor. At length a large potted plant to which the end of the leash was attached appeared. I approached the doddering old man and cleared my throat.

Spasm, being somewhat hard of hearing paid no heed and, sighing, I walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The old fellow turned around and peered at me through thick glasses. He removed a rather nasty looking grayish cloth object from his pocket that may have once been a white pocket handkerchief ( perhaps during the Hoover administration) and wiped his perspiring face. After a few moments of enduring his somewhat glazed expression, I offered “Good Morning Spasm, it’s me Jamie” .

He thought about this for a while and then carefully folded and returned his pocket square to his jacket, presumably to continue with whatever biological science project he was conducting, seized my hand, and frantically pumped it up and down.

“Master Panache”, he exclaimed. “Good to see the young master again. Old Spasm is very glad to see the young master returned from Argentina! Spasm hopes you were able to avoid the cannibals and the flocks of angry Laundromats”

“Actually I was just in the Great State of California…” I began

“Oh making films were you? Spasm has dreamed of traveling to Hollywoodland and meeting Betty Grable. Oh Spasm remembers how she went to Argentina, and met up with that racehorse owner. Spasm thinks she was far too good for Don Ameche. When you were in Argentina did you meet her? Such very fine legs has …”

Having had the dubious pleasure of listening to Spasm’s somewhat unusual stream-of-consciousness narratives before I cleared my throat again, loudly. Which again went unheard by our butler.

“… of course now Spasm has much work, can’t waste time thinking of Betty Grables’ legs nice though they are. Spasm has much work to do. Spasm takes care of the young masters, Spasm thought for breakfast…”

“Err Spasm...” I attempted vainly to attract his attention

“…Spasm wanted penguins, nice penguin eggs for the young masters, but chickens were all that were available…”

“Spasm!” I almost yelled.

“Oh sorry young master, Spasm is sorry to digress. Spasm knows how much digression is the sign of a poor writer and dull conversationalist…”

I frowned and cleared my throat again. “Spasm, would you mind telling me what you are doing with this plant?“

Spasm turned around and regarded the leafy vegetation he had been dragging around the hall. He looked at me with a most puzzled expression. “Why young Master Panache, Spasm was following your instructions.”

“My instructions!”

“Why yes good master, Spasm was told by you to take care of Master Panache’s Conservatory. Master Panache likes his plants he does. Spasm sees Master Panache watering them. Spasm sees you pruning them. Spasm hears Master Panache talking to his plants. Talking to one’s plants very good. Odd though how Master Panache doesn’t so much talk to his plants as threaten them. Very lush plants in Master Panache’s Conservatory, very lush, very green, but also very terrified…“

“Spasm, the plant? The leash?”

“Spasm takes good care of the young master’s plants. Spasm taking the Aspidistra walkies. Would Master Panache like to finish taking his nice plant walkies?“

A myriad of comments came to mind. All of which would prolong my conversation with our senile retainer. With that in mind I advised Spasm to continue on with his good work and entered the Grand Foyer. The sounds of Nelson’s symphony practicing the Andante from Schubert’s Trout Quintet pleasantly played in the distance from the Auditorium.


Pausing only a moment to fix my self a bracing cup of tea, as my dialogue with Spasm had left me feeling somewhat drained, I headed to the Library to seek out Todd. Our sandy haired historian was at a large table with several old papers set neatly before him. He was deep in concentration as he carefully reviewed the yellowing pages and made notes in a journal with his neat handwriting. Setting my teacup down I greeted him heartily and inquired to what his latest project was.

Todd said “Good to see you Jamie. I’m currently compiling some information on General Custer’s early military career in 2nd U.S. Cavalry from these letters from men under his command. I was fortunate enough to be loaned these exceedingly rare and fragile pages from the Harvard Library for my research. So I would greatly appreciate it if you would mind not using them as a coaster for your Darjeeling.”

I hastened to remove my teacup from atop the valuable letters.

Todd went back to his work and after a few minutes looked up to see me still there staring at him. He sighed and set aside his work. “Was there something in particular I could help you with?” he asked.

I smiled, “well if you aren’t doing anything else, as a matter of fact I wanted to see what information we had available about a creature called the Greater Arctic Acryli-beast…”


To be Continued…

[McClef]

Hmm why does Spasm talk like that dwarf in the second Harry Potter film?

[Arlen]

Oh darn. And I never bought those beaver-skin mittens last year when I had the chance.
I'll never get to go to the arctic.

Good luck, Panache!

[sjrapid]

So, Jamie! YOU are the phantom sporran fondler of the Balls Pond Road. Now it can be told......

I regret that it does not come to my memory banks Hamish.

I do remember Bruce Forsythe's Generation Game and the "plays" put on by the Balls Pond Rd Amateur Dramatic Society.

And I was once taken to a pub called The Entertainer on that thoroughfare to hear quite a good band.

The Phantom Sporran Fondler of the Balls Pond Road! Wow! Lots of classic UK hmour sources being conflated here.

I think there was a Goon show script called 'The dreaded batter-pudding hurler of Bexhill on Sea.' - written by Spike Milligan.

There was also a Two Ronnies serial called 'The Phantom Rasberry-Blower' also written by Spike Milligan.

There was also a Peter Sellers comedy record track 'Auntie Rotter' which mentioned the Auntie Rotter Home for Oprhans, Balls Pond Road, London.

Have I missed anything?

Best regards

[Arlen]

I'm liking this more as it goes on.
And come to think of it, Freelander does have that Malfoy look to him...

[McMurdo]

Glad I'm not the only one who thought of Dobby when I read the latest installment. Again I look forward to the next installment.

[The Frumious B.]

bump?

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 5


Todd blinked and asked, “you want me to research some sort of an animal for you?” .

“Yes please”

“So this is a subject that has nothing to do with Military History?”

“Err…I’m afraid not”

“Perhaps you were interested in the heraldic aspects of this creature. If it has appeared in any form on a crest or coat of arms? I could use my connections with the Court of Lord Lyons to check on that.”

“No. Not as such. Sorry. The Acryli-beast is supposedly some sort of mythical creature of the North. Actually I just want to find out if it really exists, it’s habits, and exact location.”

He looked around the library and gestured to the rows and rows of neatly organized bookshelves. “I have over the years worked hard at making this the finest private collection on Military History and Heraldry in North America”

“It certainly is a very impressive collection” I answered in all sincerity.

“I have invested literally thousands of hours researching, acquiring, and cataloging all these books. I can tell you what General George Washington had for breakfast the day of the Battle of Brandywine, what color General Lee’s favorite monogrammed pocket square was, which famous British Admiral reportedly got most of his strategy from a yellow budgie named Sally Jo, and why the 657th Highlanders have a chartreuse salamander in an ecru tutu as part of their insignia.”

“That’s very impressive” I acknowledged.

“But you just want to know about some animal?”

“Yes please”

“Is this for some sort of scholarly pursuit? Are you perhaps writing a paper on this “Acryli-beast”?”

“Err, well not as such. Actually I want to find out about it so I can track it down and kill it”

“Personal grudge? Family feud? Did it cheat at cards? Steal your girl? Or perhaps you just woke up this morning with a bee in your bonnet to boldly go forth into nature and murder a few creatures and wanted to start alphabetically?” he queried in somewhat sarcastic tone.

“Err, well, I want to hunt it for it’s pelt to make a dress sporran” I acknowledged meekly.

“A sporran? Oh, well, that’s all right then.”

Todd stood and guiding me by the elbow took me to a particular bookcase towards the back of the library. ”Check the bottom shelf ,we might just have something“ he suggested and returned to his desk and papers. I regarded the eclectic group of works regarding various mythical creatures and removed them to one of the library’s sturdy oak tables for further study.

It took the better part of the afternoon to find a reference to the Acryli-beast. Frankly I had almost given up my search when I found a small pamphlet nestled between a rare copy of De Vermis Mysteriis and an ancient and disturbing tome written in Arabic.

This small pamphlet had been published privately by a professor of a small new England college in 1883. It concerned legends of the more obscure mythic creatures of North America. Just after a fascinating, though blood curdling account of the “Peremalfait” of the Bayou country, there was a short section regarding the very creature I sought. Of interest to me was this following passage:

…though those of that strange tribe who hunt at the top of the world dare not represent its image in their art and seldom can be persuaded to speak of them the reality of these terrifying animals is unmistakable. Their pelts are prized above all their material goods and items made of the soft and iridescent white fur are passed down from generation to generation. They are virtually never hunted anymore as the elders are wont to say that there are no more great hunters among their people. One ancient fellow did state that “He who travels to where the lights dance in the sky may find the beasts basking in their radiance. He will find them only in this light, but beware. Know as you hunt them, they hunt you!”

“The lights of the Aurora borealis” I mused to myself.

I walked to Todd’s desk and asked if he would be so kind to point me in the direction of all our resources concerning Zeppelins.

To be Continued…

[kiltedsawyer]

Bravo, Bravo!
Please continue, most entertaining, well written, a roller coaster for the mind.
Respectfully,
David