Friday, February 25, 2011

Bow before me



I am your Lord. Bow before me.

Heretic! I shall have you thrown into the Vatican dungeon! Scarecrow! Take him away.

Not so fast, Strawman!


Oh my!

Enough with the parlor tricks, Newman. And drop the God routine. Jesus told me he sent you here undercover to investigate the Crows.

So it would kill you to bow before me?

You are an affront to all that is sacred!

Not even li'l curtsy?

It's been a long day. You got anything to eat in this icebox, pontiff?

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Crevasse?



I order you to put me down at once!


Whoa! did you feel that? That must be what they call an earthquake.

A rift is forming in the glacial ice! Put me down immediately!

Whoa! It's slippery!

Help! I'm falling into the crevasse!

Nuts! There goes lunch.


I'm trapped. I'm going to have to sever my limbs and eat them if I am to survive. ... Is this some sort of ice tunnel I've fallen into?

Crevasse. ... Now that's interesting. I would have said crevice.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Oh, Cruel Fortuna


POOF!


Where am I? …. For the love of all that the Crows hold sacred, let this be the South Pole of Parallel Time. If that is my location, I would be in the proximity of the Great White Crow. … Oh my!

Bramwell?


A talking dinosaur? This is unexpected. ... And it seems to know my name.


It’s me. Scrapple. … From the elevator.


Ah. The creature foisted upon us by Jesus?


One in the same.


You are quite a bit larger than I remembered.


Well I was just a baby then.


And of course, you can speak now, unless I am hallucinating. ... Oh cruel Fortuna, please tell me I am not hallucinating as I struggle for my last breath, my life blood draining into a crimson crescent on the frozen wasteland of the North Pole in the Realm of the Really Big Crows, which is adjacent to the Parallel South Pole on this interphasic shish kebob.


I was trapped for some time in an interphasic bubble, at which time I became self-aware, with the ability to reason and to speak. Did you say shish kebob?


You would not understand the shish kebob theory, I'm afraid. Your brain is absurdly small. ... You see, I was attacked by Santa Claus just as my transpolar destabilizer transferred me here to the Parallel South Pole. If I am indeed at the Parallel South Pole.


Don’t worry. That’s exactly where we are. … Gorgon told me so.

Gorgon? My faithful second-in-command? Where is he? I must speak to him at once!



I’m afraid that a tiny hat and scarf are all that’s left of him.


No! Alas, poor Gorgon. I knew him well, Scrapple. ... Was he slain by Santa Claus as he poofed away into Parallel Time?


Not exactly. … I, um, ate him.


You ate Gorgon? What have you done? Gorgon was crow royalty – a direct descendant of the sea crows savagely killed by Cuchulainn himself.

Mmm. ... Not big on Irish folklore.


You shall pay for this with your worthless life!

Funny. He said something very similar to that just before I ate him.

You should count yourself fortunate that I must make haste to find the Great White Crow and I do not have the time to strike you down. … You haven’t seen him have you? Really big crow? ... White?


No I haven’t. But there is a problem. … My absurdly small brain is telling me I'm still hungry.


Put me down at once, beast!