"Help me move him out of here," said Dale, who is always on the ball about such things. "He can lie in here after he has reached a thousand posts."
"I only have 1999 posts," remarked Bloomfield.
"That's true," said the undisputed, "What are you doing in the lounge?"
I said "unless I'm mistaken, you only have to have 1000 posts to get a key to the lounge."
"What is this?!!" Martin exclaimed. "It appears to be a map... a very sticky map. Someone get a damp cloth, and I'll wash it up a bit."
After we got off all that we could of the sorghum, we opened it up and found that it was a map to the holy grail.
"The Chiff and Fipple Holy Grail!
The Chiffy Grail!" said Dale.
"The Copeland prototype for Clarke!
To find it, let's embark!"
"That's what he said," I cried, "Clarke low! It's the fabled prototype low D that Copeland made for Clarke!"
"Well, duh!" replied Dale.
The map showed that the prototype was to be found in the lands of the north. So we headed to Saskatoon. Soon we realized that we should have gone to the western regions of the great northern land, and after a long journey arrived at the home of Elfsongs. We met a nice lady named Sandy, and her mother played us a tune on the banjo, but after partaking of a spot of tea, we headed on our way, as they said that we had our map upside down, and the grail was in the land down under.
We had come this far by car (taking a ferry boat across a couple of places) so we had no choice but to head back down south to get Dale Force One. We came on down the so-called West Coast, where we met The Weekenders and Murphy Stout. We also met Redwolf. Unfortunately the car we were in was Martin Milner's Mini, and it gave out in Salt Lake City. Susnfx came and picked us up and we had a nice dinner with Sunnywindo and her family. Then they took us to the Great Rocky Mountain Session, where we met Brian and Avanutria and Ben, and some other folks I dare not name. Afterward, Avanutria and Ben gave us a ride to Mack Hoover's place, whence we would ski down to the airport and catch a flight to Dale's private airport.
We spent the night with Mr. and Mrs. Hoover, and had a fine breakfast. Mack showed us his shop, and gave us each a whistle that was a reject, as souvenirs (just kidding about the rejects, mine and Dale's were good).
As we started skiing toward the airport, Bloomfield suddenly remembered that he doesn't ski, and I said, "Nonsense, I've seen you ski many a time." And he said, "You have not, Waldo." And I said, "Uh huh." And he was all like "Nuh uh." And I'm like "yes huh." And he was all, "You're such a load of rec***ers." Meanwhile, Dale gave us both a push down the hill, and I was facing backwards, so it was a most unpleasant journey for me.
So we get in the airport and the security screeners demand to see Martin Milner's passport, and it was all fine, but then they demand to see mine. And I say, "I'm a U.S. citizen, I wasn't aware I needed a passport." So they let me on through.
We finally land at Dale's airport, and my ears are competely stopped up from all the altitude change, as I'm used to being in Eastern Oklahoma, without much travel. And I begin to worry that I'm getting an ear infection. So Dale takes me to the doctor. We're sitting in the doctor's office and Dale's cellular phone rings. He says, "I'll have to take this outside. They don't allow you to use cellular phones in the doctor's office." So he goes outside. Meanwhile a lady starts getting sick, and she makes a big mess, so, I run outside, suddenly feeling like my ears are okay after all.
"That was Wombat," says Dale. He says that the Grail is indeed in Australia, and we are welcome to come stay with him. We head out on Dale Force One, making a stop in Oklahoma so I can pick up my passport, and we head on down to Australia. Wombat picks us up, and takes us to a secret lair, where he says that Dr. Syn and the Synners have hidden the Grail.
"But I thought the Syn whistles were a fabulous new design," said Martin Milner. "They are," said Wombat, but Syn knows that once the inexpensive Clarke low D's become available, there will not be much demand for his $30 high-end whistles, as all the lower middle class whistlers will be spending their money on Clarke low whistles.
So Bloomfield, Dale, Wombat, and I began a lively debate on class structure, and whether there should even be such a thing. Meanwhile Martin Milner was sitting by the Land Cruiser snickering. He looks down and spies a venomous reptile and jumps back. "Relaxssssssssssss," said the snake, "itssssssssss your old pal Ssssssssserpent."
"But I thought you lived in Missou..." Milner was interrupted by Serpent who said, "Sssssshhhhh. We don't want to disturb them while they're bickering, and I'm a bit of an Addle adder today."
"I came down to Ausssssstralia to retrieve the grail," said Serp, "Come with me!" And Martin Milner and Serpent took off in the Land Rover.
"What the rec***er?!" cried Dale. "They're getting away! Why did they leave without us?"
About this time Dr. Syn came riding out, in his Scarecrow outfit, and told us to hop on horses and to head for town. He'd explain on the way. As we stopped to water our horses at the halfway point, the Scarecrow explained that Zubivka and Claudine had been doing some investigation, and had found out he'd stolen the grail. They then had called Serpent, who headed down and stole it away from him. In the mean time, while delivering a sermon in his day job as parish vicar, Dr. Syn had realized the errors of his way and repented, but Serpent, Claudine and Zoob didn't know it.
So we headed on into town and caught a train to Europe. We felt like idiots when the train let us off at Adelaide, and we realized that there was no train to Europe from Australia. So we went back and got Daleforce One, and headed for Singapore. In Singapore we had a nice long chat about international law with Eldarion, who is a lawman, and Tuaz, who is a lawyer. They told us that by right of acquisition, we could lay claim on the grail, if we reached England with it before Serpent and Martin Milner did...
Wait... where was I going with this story?
