Aristotle Catfish: May I say that was highly enjoyable little barcarole, but just stick it in the oven, Mr von Strahl.
Stejar Strahl: Pardon, stick what where?
Aristotle Catfish: The red nut, stick it in the oven.
Stejar Strahl: Why is that?
Aristotle Catfish: Listen carefully, my comely-faced copper, if you burn the nut you will turn to be your father.
Eiseemi Laxi: Is this the red nut?
Stejar Strahl: But I don't want to be my father. I don't even know him. There might be hundreds and hundreds of rather short, but so jolly men around the village of Superlon, where they gave a key to my jail, but the very next day they gave it away...
Aristotle Catfish: No! Don't burn that! It's Mr Mac Piggin Buckets, not a nut.
Stejar Strahl: What a shame, it looked bit like a tiger...
Aristotle Catfish: Yes, that's what they all say, but there's always a small redhead clown inside Mr Mac Piggin Buckets. Well, there was one. But now...
... no we will have to take a flight to Embololalia.
4 comments:
That reminds me of a song: 'Do you know the way to Embololalia?'
Is it just me, or is this story becoming a bit darker, more brooding? They're not all going to kill themselves, then get on board a ship and set fire to it, are they?
Oh, I'd love to hear that song.
And no, they are not. This is the last day of November.
Tomorrow I will start being happy. I dance around trees, decorate myself with glittery things, drink glögg with raisins, eat thin Swedish orange flavoured gingerbreads with cheese and bake a house.
Bake a house?
Anyway, great to see more Superlon :)
A gingerbread house, my dear friend, a gingerbread house.
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