Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

[BEEDEE]

I don't know, Mr. Mender and Mr. Bedee, do we really.................

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.

Brian

[Splash_4]

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.

Brian

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

[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

[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?

[The F-H.C.A.G.]

House Elf, you mean? And doesn't that mean that Freelander Sporrano is Lucius Malfoy?

I'm trying to contrive a way to get Panache to gift Spasm with an article of clothing, to see if this "frees" him, but I think that every member of the League would have to give him something. Let's imagine what sort of outfit that would be.

Be well,

[Arlen]

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

[Weasel Mender]

House Elf, you mean? And doesn't that mean that Freelander Sporrano is Lucius Malfoy?

I'm trying to contrive a way to get Panache to gift Spasm with an article of clothing, to see if this "frees" him, but I think that every member of the League would have to give him something. Let's imagine what sort of outfit that would be.

Be well,

My Dear Lady,
Perhaps we had best leave that outfit unimagined, then it would not burn out our eyes and fry our brains. It would probably rate its own page on "DOs and DON'Ts

Weasel