No. 3
The Hunt for the Pingdu Pelican
The Hunt for the Pingdu Pelican
Monday
I write to you with worrisome news, huddled with my wife and our manservant Reginald over a burning trashcan and typing in the dim light of my cellular phone. It will only be a matter of days before the latter is taken away from me, as the phone company hasn't realized yet that I have failed to pay my bill for the last eight months. But here we are, on this cold night, far from the extravagant furnishings we once knew. Oh how far we've fallen from grace, and I have only myself to blame.
You see, a few weeks ago, Prince Dada Eniola-Enkudayo, my longtime Nigerian business partner, sent me an email that our funds were locked away in escrow due to the "sudden collaps (sic) of the gold market." With no revenue piling in, I panicked, and we all know my knee-jerk reaction to bad financial news is to immediately pour all my remaining funds into burning trashcan stock and to physically swallow any cash I have.
So there I stood in the cold, rubbing my aching tummy, just about to rip out a page of Blimpman Quarterly to fuel the fire a little more, but something caught my eye. It was an interview with acclaimed ornithologist, billionaire, and recent blimp enthusiast, Lewis Conrad Bullfinch. In the article, there was a picture of the rotund man, and Bullfinch said that through his long career of discovering and cataloging the most rare birds on earth, there was still one who eluded his grasp. This particular bird, the Pingdu pelican, had only been spotted once and only by him. He tried and failed to capture the bird using a series of nets, but his weak wrists caused him to throw the net just short of the bird's location. The majestic pelican flew away, never to be seen again.
When the interviewer asked what Bullfinch would do for the chance to see the Pingdu pelican again, he said, "I'd give it all - my fortune, my blimp, my fame. I shan't be ready to die until that glorious pelican graces my presence once again."
This got my wheels to spinning. What if I took on the job for Bullfinch? What if I found the Pingdu pelican for him? Surely he'd reward me handsomely, and I would finally have the funds to restore my good name. I enthusiastically pitched the idea to my wife, but she very logically explained to me that I don't know anything about bird-hunting, dummy. I knew she was right of course, as she usually is 594 out of 595 times. (We keep track as part of a healthy competition between us.) But I said that I knew someone who was an expert. She shook her head bitterly but with that unspoken acceptance that usually comes along with one of my harebrained schemes, and I put out the call.
Within the hour, Mandelbaum arrived faithfully at our location. My old friend and fellow adventurer heard my idea from start to finish, listening in stoic silence. While Mandelbaum himself actually knew nothing about birds, he agreed to maintain the façade with my wife, convincing her that he would be of assistance on a bird hunt. I really do hate lying to my precious darling, but desperate times call for desperate deceptions.
We quickly retrieved the Eurydice from her dock at the soccer field behind Milwood Elementary School and prepared for departure. So here we are, ready to start a grand adventure. It's only a matter of time before my wife sees this post to you all and she learns of my lie, so Honeypoots, I want you to know that I am truly sorry. I hope to make it up to you in the form of a massive cash donation toward your shopping spree, soon after Mandelbaum and I have retrieved the Pingdu pelican and have been rewarded handsomely. In the meantime, please stay warm by the barrel.
And Reginald, don't try any funny business while I'm away. I don't want a repeat of last time.
#pingdupelican #thehuntison #nofunnybusinessreggie #honeypoots
Tuesday
Mandelbaum and I have been flying over stormy seas all day. We've been passing the time with games of shuffleboard on deck, but the discs have been flying every which way due to the constant rocking in the wind and the pouring rain. While Mandelbaum takes charge of the piloting duties, I'm usually below deck poring over collections of encyclopaedias, hoping to learn more about the Pingdu pelican, the rare bird which we seek to find. Aside from L.C. Bullfinch's findings, there's not much information out there. According to him, the bird was only seen once on a secluded island in the Atlantic, and we head there now thanks to the sextant coordinates he provided.
After several more hours of travel, we located the semi-tropical island and landed our blimp down on the beach around dusk. The rain subsided, and we ventured off into the forest on foot. We soon learned that finding the pelican would be a near impossible task, as we quickly saw how lush the island was. It was teeming with birds of all species and sexual orientations, venomous snakes, croaking toads, and the occasional squawking (though thankfully unseen) squirrel.
As Mandelbaum whacked his machete through the thick brush in a most manly fashion, we approached what had to be the center of the island. We paused at a surprising sight before us. It wasn't the pelican, but instead it was some sort of ancient temple constructed of massive limestone bricks. I couldn't imagine how such an elaborately designed and sizeable archaeological landmark could have remained undiscovered for so long, and yet, here it was. Standing there in the center circle of some ancient courtyard, I couldn't help but admire the architectural soundness of the temple and how - despite the encroaching jungle and vines slithering their way up the stones - it had survived here for so long relatively intact.
We were surprised to find we were not alone, for standing higher above us on the temple wall was Sylvia Wolfenkranz, the femme fatale from one of my previous blimping adventures. She explained to us that this was an ancient Babylonian temple far out at sea, and any treasures inside must be valuable beyond measure. Seeing as her crew of treasure hunters died just days ago due to a madness caused by eating poisonous wild berries, this left Sylvia as the only survivor of her crew and without assistance in locating the treasure. Even her former lover and partner, Wendell, had been a casualty in the party, but she said it was fine; the two of them had actually grown quite distant recently as he had taken on a series of Portuguese mistresses who were really starting to annoy her, seeing as the mistresses kept fooling around with her boyfriends.
We decided to spill the beans about being in search of the Pingdu pelican, and the three of us reached an agreement. We would help her locate the treasure, and afterward she would help us locate the Pingdu pelican. Mandelbaum and I exchanged a knowing glance. Why not just steal the treasure from her? That way we can forget about this silly pelican chase and return home stinking rich.
The entrance to the temple was harmless enough, but the main corridor quickly transitioned into an increasingly darkening and descending tunnel toward the depths. Our voices echoed ahead of us in the darkness, and our dim torches gave us no clue as to the true depths of the temple complex we had trespassed upon.
After a nervous hike deep below the earth, we reached the inner chambers of the temple, and Mandelbaum stayed behind in the main tunnel to lower us - Sylvia and me - via rope down into a dark underground chamber when the path suddenly ended. I held a torch aloft as we landed on firm ground, and Sylvia started inspecting a majestic looking stone box in the center of the room. Her eyes were shining with that kind of greedy enthusiasm so common in treasure hunters. She slowly removed the lid of the box and my curiosity and other things were aroused, if I'm being honest. We peered inside the box and I was confused to see what appeared to be a checkered board, small animal-like figurines carved of marble, and strange etchings all over.
"A board game?" I asked.
"Not just any board game," said Sylvia, and she read some of the ancient Babylonian markings on the board. "Juu-maan-jii."
Now this particular game, you may know, formed the basis of the 1995 film starring Robin Williams (RIP) and the 2017 reboot starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (also RIP starting in 2023, since advanced statistics-running computer programs have predicted his untimely death in a swordfish-related incident). But those movies were total crock because these real games of Jumanji were full of ancient Babylonian magic and were powered by an infernal device that could only have been the creation of an advanced, technology-driven society. A fascination with deadly board games is actually what caused the end to their powerful empire, as you may know.
Sylvia, always the daredevil, gave me a conspiratorial glance. "Want to play?"
"What? Here? Now?" I said as I nervously glanced backward, growing uncomfortable with the general darkness and now the idea of playing a haunted game.
She proceeded to mock me with chicken noises, insults regarding my general level of masculinity, and referred to my blimp as "deflated." I wasted no time and selected my piece first (a pelican), rolled the whale-bone die, and moved my piece on the board.
My piece landed on a black space speckled with unreadable cuneiform runes. For a while, nothing happened. Then in the darkness of the temple we heard a little chippering sound. Then a squeak. And then a squawk. And then a thousand more chippersqueaksquawks.
Within seconds the chamber was flooded with a thousand vicious and attacking squirrels. We screamed as they bit rabidly at our heels, and Mandelbaum, having heard our cries, quickly pulled us up via the ropes. Sylvia reached back and grabbed the game as we fled, but I noticed my pelican-shaped game piece had fallen on the ground. When I glanced back to retrieve it, there was no game piece. Instead, a purple-feathered, real, living pelican stood perched in its place. I couldn't believe my eyes! Before I even had time to think in the confusion, the pelican took off, flying above the horde of squirrels, over our heads, and out the main chamber.
We raced toward the exit and Mandelbaum held the rear, stomping his sasquatchian boot on any squirrel who dared to pursue us. When we exited the temple, Sylvia was nowhere to be found. She, and the priceless Babylonian relic, were gone. We knew she had duped us (probably suspecting our own duping) and disappeared with the treasure, probably never to be seen again.
As we returned to our blimp, I explained to Mandelbaum how I had seen the Pingdu pelican inside the temple. I don't think he believed me for a long while, but on our walk we glanced out at the ocean. High in the sky was a small purple figure, flapping its broad wings and vanishing into the distant horizon. We abruptly got the Eurydice up and running and continued on our chase.
#jumanji #doublecrossed #pelicansighting #borninarizonamovedtobabylonia
Wednesday
Mandelbaum and I have followed one particular jetstream across the Atlantic which we believe the Pingdu pelican has also taken. We are hot on that sexy bird's trail, and it should only be a matter of days before we can catch it. Our only fear is that it will reach the mainland before we do and venture off on a new trajectory.
It was around lunch time when our cruising speed of 40 knots came to a grinding halt. I spilled hot mollusk soup all over my lap and cursed angrily toward Mandelbaum, inquiring about the cause of our sudden stop. He said that we had been hooked by some unseen vessel in the ocean below. Sure enough, upon inspection we found that the spiny arrow of a harpoon had shot straight into our hull, latching onto us, and it was now pulling us down toward the rolling waters via a tethered rope. We tried for the next several minutes to sever the rope or detach the hook, but our efforts were in vain.
The contraption continued to pull us closer, closer toward the water. My blimp wouldn't stand a chance against the threat of those incoming, rolling waves. We were about to give up all hope and make our peace with Heaven - and I regretted the lie I told to my wife (not the lie about going on this fateful adventure, but about the time she caught me wearing women's underwear and I said that I was really just trying on a new style of blimping harness) - but just then, an enormous vessel rose up from below the water. It was a submarine, long and slender and blue. As it surfaced, our downward drag toward the waters stopped so that were floating just a few yards above the submarine and its dreaded harpoon gun.
The main hatch of the submarine opened and an eye-patched fellow holding a rifle beckoned for us to come down. Considering our situation, Mandelbaum and I agreed that the best course of action was to comply with the demand. We lowered the rope ladder and entered the submarine, terrified about who our capturer might be. The eye-patched man, we learned, was just a lackey, and he led us at gunpoint deeper into the bowels of the metallic submersible.
I immediately had my suspicions that we had been abducted by the infamous Submariners Legion, an organization that is the antithesis of the Blimping Corps. Where we revel in adventure, freedom, and hard-earned prosperity; the Submariners Legion is filled with ruthless criminals, hooligans, and thieves. Plus, they're just a bunch of smelly jerks.
We reached the vast main chamber of the submarine, and the atmosphere of the vessel abruptly changed. The all-metal corridor, filled with pipes and wheels, suddenly turned into an elaborate casino floor, filled with blackjack tables, roulette wheels, slot machines, and Xi Hai Shi Bu Xing tables. And as for the patrons of this deep-casino, they themselves must have been a nasty lot with all sorts of international warrants out for their arrest. I recognized some who clearly must have been black market traders from Singapore, mobsters from Hong Kong, and profitable arms dealers from dangerous locales. They gathered together in the circular floor of the casino, gambling away exorbitant amounts of cash and paying absolutely no attention to our presence, which made me worried just how common it was for the submariners to bring hostages aboard their vessel. A level above the casino floor, an upstairs balcony ran the entire circumference of the room, from which the armed pirates stood guard over the activities below.
Overlooking the scene from a high throne on the upper deck was the man who was surely the leader of this underwater gambling operation. He wore a turban, and his brown face sported a dark beard that curled at the mustache. When he saw us, he stood, and that's when I noticed that he was in fact about three feet tall, a dwarf. He was as short as Mandelbaum was tall. He waddled over to us and reached out a tiny hand, which I hesitantly shook, finding surprisingly that his grip was nearly as firm as Mandelbaum's.
"Welcome to the Neptune's Phallus," he said. "My name is Captain Zanzibar, and I hope your stay will be comfortable here. As long as you have money to spend, that is."
I told him that he could dispense with the formalities, and I demanded an explanation to our kidnapping.
"Well," he said, "the truth is that my crew recognized your blimp through the periscope and I ordered your immediate capture. You see, the squirrels have put a bounty on the capture of blimpmen - dead or alive. And your particular bounty was worth the most."
If that were the case, I asked him why he bothered to even take us alive, and he assured us that if we tried to escape, like the previous blimpman, our death would surely make the job much easier for him. Before I could even ask, he pointed to a terrarium down on the casino floor, where inside was the fattest snake I'd ever seen. It was clear to me that this wretched reptile had just feasted, and I dared not ask what, or who, had provided that meal. My first thoughts, I confess, were of Sylvia. Had she met this dreaded crew before us and reached a dire end? I can't say she didn't deserve such a fate, but at the same time, I couldn't help but--
"Our anaconda, Petunia, has just fed on fresh blimpman and salamander meat. But don't think that she would not enjoy a second helping, should you try anything."
I put the clues together and deduced that it was not Sylvia, but poor old Mr. Meilong - the salamander-breeding blimpman from China - had met his end here. I lowered my head in respect.
Captain Zanzibar's lackeys cuffed Mandelbaum and me to a pair of slot machines - no doubt intending to leave us shackled there until delivery to the squirrels. Time passed and we kept our voices down to a whisper. We conversed about possible means of escape from these pirates, but all possibilities seemed hopeless for us.
As the day wore on and we continued our underwater journey, fortune seemed to sway in our favor. Captain Zanzibar, being only three feet tall, got ridiculously drunk on squid liquor after only one drink. He was wobbling all over the place, and I noticed he was getting closer to the railing overlooking the anaconda tank.
"Ahoy, Zanzibar," I shouted. "If I can spin a winning jackpot on this slot machine in only one attempt, can I earn the freedom of my man and me?"
He laughed, knowing that the odds were near impossible for me. "I accept!" he shouted, and everyone in the pirate crew cheered at this entertaining challenge. "But if you lose, then I get to fart into a wine glass and you must sip the semi-liquid contents inside."
Everyone laughed. I gagged at the thought, but I felt I was left with no choice. I said, "Toss me a coin then," and one of his men did so. "And toss a wine glass to your gassy little captain, just in case."
The eye-patched fellow tossed a glass up to Captain Zanzibar, and being so drunk, I knew he would be unable to catch it. Reaching, he teetered dangerously over the rail and wobbled drunkenly, attempting to catch the glass. Suddenly, his eyes went wide as he lost his footing completely. He flopped over the rail and plummeted into the snake tank below.
The anaconda, Petunia, wasted no time crawling toward her fallen master. Even though she was still full from her previous meal, the greedy snake wasted no time in betraying her captor. She coiled around Zanzibar's body, unhinged her jaws, and slurped down the screaming dwarf face-first in one gulp. I looked away from the horrendous sight, gagging up a bit of puke.
Chaos ensued aboard the Phallus as the entire crew rushed to the aid of their leader. It was exactly the diversion we needed. Mandelbaum used a bit of leverage from the slot machine's arm and his own Samson-like strength to snap the bonds of the handcuffs that held us there, and in the confusion we dashed toward the exit. We dashed through the chambers of the sub, found our way back to the Eurydice, boarded the blimp, and took to the skies.
In our retreat, pirates shot at us from the top deck of the submarine, but by this point we were safely in the air and out of harm's way. As an added bonus, our unexpected tethering and the speed of the submarine had actually brought us closer to the shore of the mainland much faster than we had anticipated, and we were hopefully one step ahead of the Pingdu pelican. But that was truly a close call.
#snakefood #submarinersarelosers #blimpingcorpsforever #poormrmeilong
Thursday
We reached the mainland of the Americas, and I noticed we were somewhere in the vicinity of Florida. We had the blimp parked on a strip of beach, and Mandelbaum kept a vigilant watch of the skies, scanning with his extendable telescope for any sign of the Pingdu pelican. Meanwhile, I had gotten a little bored and lay down for a bit of a stretch in a dandelion patch and thanked my lucky stars for such a loyal comrade as Mandelbaum. I really could not have undertaken this adventure without the assistance of such an indefatigable, brave, and chiseled friend.
Suddenly, I was aroused from my daydreaming by the noise of a caravan of vehicles rumbling down the nearby road. I scurried to the top of a hill to get a better look, and I could easily see that it was some sort of traveling circus. In the back of trucks was an assortment of cages holding exotic animals, such as giraffes, bears, weasels, Tasmanian devils, and ostriches. But one vehicle particularly caught my eye; standing in the back of the truck was a bald man with dozens of piercings and wearing a leopard-skin vest. And in his hands, he was holding something: it was the Pingdu pelican! Even from this distance I could spot its purple feathers and bulky beak.
I ordered Mandelbaum to stop his search, and we began a hot pursuit of the circus vehicles. It took us about four hours to catch up to them, and by then, we were only able because they had stopped their journey to set up camp. When we arrived, the main circus tent had already been pitched, animals were unloaded from their cages, and performers were practicing for their acts.
We spied on them for quite some time from behind the cover of old oak trees. I came up with a quick plan for us to sneak into the camp undetected, but I noticed Mandelbaum did not follow me. When I went back to check on him, he was paralyzed with fear. I've never seen him in such a state! After all the squirrels he's annihilated, attacks from vengeful pirates, and assassination attempts from robotic babysitters (that's another story); I've never seen him once bat an eye or show a millisecond of fear. And there he was, completely frozen.
"What is it?" I asked, and he pointed. I noticed some clowns dancing happily nearby. "Seriously, you're afraid of clowns?"
But then he shook his head and pointed again. I saw a few folks in leotards swinging from ropes.
"Trapeze artists?"
He nodded. That's when it all made sense to me.
Long before Mandelbaum became a coalition agent and my butlering friend, he had a history as an award-winning trapeze performer. People were amazed that someone so large and sturdy as him could be such a graceful swinger and master of the ropes. His muscular frame seemed to defy the laws of gravity. But it was one day when he and his partner, the beautiful Brumhilda von Revony, were devastated by tragedy. In a new, never-before-seen stunt, Mandelbaum caught the beautiful Namibian by the arms, but their combined weight and the strain of so many twists and flips caused the rope of their trapeze to snap. Brumhilda fell.
She actually survived, with relatively minor injuries in fact, so that wasn't a problem at all. But then about six weeks later, a car hit her in a Red Lobster parking lot, and she died. Still to this day, Mandelbaum can't look at a trapeze (or a franchised seafood restaurant) without thinking of his lost partner.
I ventured forward, leaving the still-incapacitated Mandelbaum behind, and snuck quietly into the main circus tent alone. Inside, I caught sight of the Pingdu pelican. A whip-brandishing animal tamer was striking his whip dangerously close to the fearful bird, trying to get it to leap through a flaming ring. With each crack of the whip and the resultant terrified flinches from the tortured bird, the anger inside me burned hotter and hotter than that flaming ring.
Before I could come up with a plan, the ringmaster - the bald, pierced, leopard-vested man I saw before - spotted me and demanded that I come forward into the ring. I obeyed. In the ring, I noticed just how large the Pingdu pelican looked up close, but I had no time to really admire it.
"Jackaninny's Circus and Beastly Sideshow doesn't open for another week," said the ringmaster. "My name is Jack Marvelous. What brings you to spy on our rehearsal? Clearly you've come to steal our newest act."
He motioned toward the pelican. I introduced myself and said that I was merely a fan, but he quickly saw through my deception and noticed my intense fascination with the pelican. He explained that he had realized that this bird was special the moment he saw it, and anyone would pay top dollar to see it. He believed that I, no doubt, had realized the same and wanted to steal the bird from him.
Jack Marvelous motioned toward his clown bodyguards and they snatched me up, binding me from head to toe in colorful, stupidly-long handkerchieves (yes, that is the correct pluralization). With a mysterious jar in their hands, they forcefully pried open my mouth and stuffed it full of oozing honey from the jar. I tried to spit it out, but they held my mouth and nose shut until I swallowed it.
"What did you just feed me?!" I spat, coughing up a thick phlegm of honey.
Jack Marvelous rubbed his bald head and said, "Surely a bit of rhododendron honey will help you to relax and enjoy the show." He laughed menacingly.
I sat fearfully for the next few minutes, sweating and waiting for the infamous hallucinogenic honey to take its effects on me. I was beginning to think it was all a ploy - a scare tactic - because everything seemed normal, what with the performers continuing their rehearsal, the dancing ostriches, and the Hindu god Ganesha laughing hysterically at the clowns. Wait-- when did Ganesha get here? I don't remember anyone with an elephant head being invited to this party...
Then the world around me began to swirl in vivid neon, and I noticed my eyeballs were suddenly astral projecting outside of my body, and I could see my own empty-eye-socketed face drooling across from me. When the laughing clowns rang a loud gong, my eyeballs reattached and all the lights disappeared.
It was completely dark and silent, as if I were in an empty void, and only the Pingdu pelican was standing before me.
"Hello," he said in perfect English. "I understand you want to hold me."
I nodded my head, drooling silently.
"Go on, have a feel," he said.
I reached out and stroked my hand on his gloriously soft purple feathers.
"Have a taste while you're at it."
I held out my tongue and the taste of his fluffy, sweet, honey-like feathers filled my mouth.
"Now, become me."
I nodded stupidly, and in a flash, I was the Pingdu pelican. I saw his life - my life - playing out before me in a series of flashbacks. The highlight reel showed the time I hatched out of my egg inside the dark Babylonian temple, my first meal of delicious starfish, my first romantic attraction with the blowhole of a swimming dolphin... and then my mother's death.
She was the only other pelican in my life, and she was shot down from the sky by some sort of loud-popping, invisible bee sting. Her body splashed into the ocean below, and all I could hear was, "Curses! She fell into the bloody ocean. I'll aim for the young one - and this time don't let it sink!"
There were some strange creatures on two legs standing on the beach, and one of them was holding the weapon that killed my mother.
Suddenly, all reality snapped back into place, and I was no longer the Pingdu pelican. Instead, I had the human awareness to know what had happened: the human on that beach that fateful day, the one who killed the pelican's mother, was none other than L.C. Bullfinch! It was the very man to whom I sought to deliver this pelican. In good faith, I knew that was not a possibility any longer. I needed to help this pelican escape. But first, I needed to escape myself.
Jack Marvelous noticed that I had come out of my honey-induced stupor, and he ordered the clowns to feed me more. When all seemed ill for me, Jack Marvelous was knocked to the ground cold by one enormous brown fist straight into his face. He hit the floor of the tent hard, spilling his loose piercings and teeth all over the place.
Mandelbaum rubbed his fist and turned to face the clowns. He grabbed two of them, slamming their heads together like a couple of coconuts, and all the others wisely took off running in retreat.
At that moment, a circus bear that was clearly hopped up on rhododendron honey sprung into action, attacking this newcomer with slashing paws. He roared ferociously, and Mandelbaum narrowly ducked out of the way. Now, you may know that the best defense against bear attacks is for your friend to play dead, thus sacrificing his body while you run away safely, but I can tell you that there is one better defense: have a Mandelbaum at your side.
The bear lunged forward, but Mandelbaum didn't even flinch. Instead, he thrust his arm forward, his fist going straight into the bear's salivating mouth. Mandelbaum shoved his arm deep down into its throat, all the way up to his elbow. The gagging bear lifted Mandelbaum off the ground and swung him around by the arm, but my glorious avenger would not let go.
In a few seconds, the bear was choked out by lack of oxygen and collapsed on the floor with a giant unconscious thud. In the battle of Mandelbaum vs. Bear, my loyal companion was the clear victor. Then he caught sight of the swinging trapeze nearby and he let out a tiny, girl-like scream.
I said, "Really? You'll fight a bear, but you still can't look at a trapeze?"
He shrugged.
Before making our escape from the tent, I walked over to the perching Pingdu pelican nearby. The bird didn't seem to cower at my proximity; instead, he stepped out onto my outstretched arm. I stared at him for a moment, admiring all that I had learned about this majestic bird. I knew this would be my only opportunity to take this bird into my control, to arrange the exchange with Bullfinch, to receive my fortune, to rectify my dire financial situation, and to make me and my wife happy again. The bird simply looked me in the eye, as if he knew all that I was considering. There was no fear in that glossy pupil, just acceptance that decision lay with me.
After a moment of consideration, I instead walked the bird outside and released him into the wild. As we watched the bird fly away, Mandelbaum didn't even ask me why I did it; he must have silently trusted my judgment.
#flyingfree #bearattack #boycottjackaninnys
#brumhildavonrevony #honeydreams
Friday
Mandelbaum and I drifted the Eurydice over the ocean for most of the day, for we were not ready to return home empty-handed. What would dear Honeypoots say to me if, on top of all my lies, I returned with no solution to our sorry financial predicament? I couldn't face the wrath of those tiny hands - not again. Plus, by now my manservant Reginald would have put the moves on her, and I couldn't deal with having to fire another butler.
We lurched forward over the Atlantic until something in the distance caught our eye. It was a bright orange dot, and I recognized it almost immediately. It was the hot air balloon named the Nephthys. As we gained speed on her (a difficult task for sure), we saw our double-crosser from the Babylonian temple on board: Sylvia Wolfenkranz. We gained speed on her and got within communicable distance. I could tell she was shocked to see us there, but she brushed us off and increased the flames speeding her balloon along. I cursed at her for her betrayal of us earlier this week when she ran off with the ancient Jumanji game. What was even worse, I saw, was that she had something caged on board next to her: it was the Pingdu pelican! The poor purple seabird that we had let free just yesterday was now in the clutches of this vile betrayess.
"It's too late!" she shouted at us. "The pelican is mine, and I will be delivering him to Bullfinch soon enough!"
She pointed, and straight ahead of us I noticed a third airship had joined the fray. It was L.C. Bullfinch's blimp, the Condor Sublime. The massive blimp was magnificent, white and shining in the sky, and I was jealous of the wealth this man was clearly putting on display.
We, along with Wolfenkranz, tethered our blimps to the Condor and boarded. Bullfinch was on deck, waiting for us, seated at a dinner table out on the gondola's deck. With a bib unceremoniously tucked into shirt collar, the fat man laughed merrily at the sight of the Pingdu pelican, nearly choking on the bite of food he was chewing. I looked down at his white tablecloth and noticed the extravagant meal spread out before him; there were all sorts of exotic poultries laid out.
"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "You're an ornithologist, and here you are eating endangered birds! Albatross confit, Eskimo curlew pudding, and upland sandpiper stew."
"Ah, you know your avian delicacies," he admired. "You must be a wealthy blimpman yourself. I don't believe we've had the honor of meeting before."
I introduced myself, citing sadly that I was no longer a wealthy blimpman, and I explained that until just yesterday, it was I who was seeking to bring this fabled bird to him.
That is, until I learned the truth. I learned how he killed this bird's mother, and he was only seeking the bird so that he may dine on its delicious purply flesh.
Sylvia seemed surprised to learn this information, but she said, "None of this matters to me. I've come to arrange a trade for the price agreed upon."
With flapping jowls and wipe of his messy chin, Bullfinch summoned his manservant to go and fetch his checkbook, but the whole ordeal was interrupted by a magnificent crashing sound and a jolt. Mandelbaum and I were the first to realize what was happening, for we ran into the same predicament just days ago. We pointed down to the ocean below us, and sure enough, the submarine named the Neptune's Phallus was rising from the depths, having just latched onto us with a tether. More surprisingly though, it was not alone; another submarine surfaced, then another, and then another. Soon the entire Submariners Legion was in the mix.
Sylvia panicked and retreated back to her hot air balloon, still holding the Pingdu pelican's cage in her arms. Bullfinch was enraged at her retreat and ordered his crew to attack her. Within seconds, a swarm of brown sparrows (aka "the squirrels of the sky") jettisoned out of the hold and started darting toward Sylvia's balloon.
Meanwhile, I looked down at the evil submarines below. A hatch opened on the Phallus, and the short-statured captain, Captain Zanzibar, stepped out onto the deck. I was surprised to see him still alive after being swallowed whole by an anaconda, but I realized how such a thing might be possible. His face was badly burned, wrapped in bandages, pussing profusely from pink oozing blisters - no doubt burns from the snake's digestive stomach acids.
"My crew had to cut me out of Petunia's belly!" he shouted at me. "Neither she, nor my face, survived the operation. Now I plan to return the favor by cutting off yours!"
Bullfinch was pleading loudly that none of this grudge concerned him, but Captain Zanzibar and the other submariners weren't having it. They continued launching more and more tethered harpoons at the blimp.
Just then, Mandelbaum and I heard a scream come from the Nephthys across the way. The attack sparrows had pierced Sylvia's balloon, and she was losing altitude at a dangerous rate. She sank lower and lower, and I could only watch helplessly as it happened. Surely this would be a fair end for her; but something didn't sit right with me. In moments, she would either sink in the ocean or fall victim to the submariners.
Some movement caught the corner of my eye, and that's when I noticed that Mandelbaum had jumped up onto the railing of the blimp. He stood there, balanced like a majestic bird, and my vertigo kicked in as I feared that he was about to fall overboard to his watery grave below. Instead, he deftly balanced on the thin rail with no supports and grabbed hold of a rope ladder nearby. He tucked one of the rungs between his thunderous thighs.
"Wait," I said, "a trapeze? No, Mandelbaum, you're not ready."
But he didn't listen to me and he leapt from the rail, freefalling into the open abyss. I was too frozen to even look away, but my heart stopped for what seemed to be hours. As Mandelbaum reached the lowest point of his pendulum swing, the rope went taught, and he began to rise, up and up toward Sylvia's balloon. He was swinging from his legs, truly showcasing why he had been such a glorious trapeze artist in his prime.
He motioned for Sylvia to jump, and though she was terrified, she leapt - still holding the pelican's cage. She freefalled in the open air for a few seconds until Mandelbaum narrowly caught her by the hand.
I gasped in relief. He swung back in a reverse arc, dropped Sylvia and the bird onto the deck of the blimp, and completely stuck this sick landing with a sort of backflip. It was totally sick.
"Mandelbaum, you're amazing!" I said.
And then he punched Bullfinch in the face for no reason.
The fat old man was crying on the ground, shouting curses at us, unable to lift himself up.
"Curse my weak wrists!"
Most of his crew began abandoning ship, jumping overboard and into the ocean below. Mandelbaum, Sylvia, the Pingdu pelican, and I retreated onto the Eurydice where we made a quick escape. We used the Condor as a shield from the Legion's tethers. We looked back and Bullfinch was screaming as his blimp got dragged closer and closer toward the ocean. Soon, Captain Zanzibar and the others drug his vessel down into the waters, surely leaving him there to drown. We flew away knowing that Bullfinch met his end and hopefully the Legion would retire its pursuit of us, at least for now.
On our way back home, Sylvia apologized to us for the inconveniences wrought to us this week, but I nobly told her to think nothing of it. We dropped her off with a passing pod of dolphins, who squeaked an assurance that she would make it home safely upon their backs. We felt a few days at sea aboard the back of a dolphin, forced to listen to their cult's religious propaganda and aggravatingly catchy sing-along hymns, would be enough punishment for her.
Mandelbaum gave me a pat on the back, and my friend silently returned to his duties piloting the blimp. There I was, left alone with the caged Pingdu pelican. I released the bird from its cage and waited. As it waddled out toward freedom, the bird looked at me with that glossy eye and opened its massive beak wide. Inside its gizzard I could see a box, which I recognized immediately. It was the priceless Babylonian relic that Sylvia stole: the Jumanji game! The pelican wanted me to have it. With this game, I could surely pay off some of my debts and better the lives of my wife and me.
"Thank you, noble bird," I said, gently retrieving the priceless box.
And then it pooped this disgusting white mess all over the deck of my blimp, flapped its wings, and took off. My hunt for the Pingdu pelican had truly reached its end.
#theend #getamop #poopdeck #battleforthepingdupelican
#trapeze #dolphincult #imissmyhoneypoots
I write to you with worrisome news, huddled with my wife and our manservant Reginald over a burning trashcan and typing in the dim light of my cellular phone. It will only be a matter of days before the latter is taken away from me, as the phone company hasn't realized yet that I have failed to pay my bill for the last eight months. But here we are, on this cold night, far from the extravagant furnishings we once knew. Oh how far we've fallen from grace, and I have only myself to blame.
You see, a few weeks ago, Prince Dada Eniola-Enkudayo, my longtime Nigerian business partner, sent me an email that our funds were locked away in escrow due to the "sudden collaps (sic) of the gold market." With no revenue piling in, I panicked, and we all know my knee-jerk reaction to bad financial news is to immediately pour all my remaining funds into burning trashcan stock and to physically swallow any cash I have.
So there I stood in the cold, rubbing my aching tummy, just about to rip out a page of Blimpman Quarterly to fuel the fire a little more, but something caught my eye. It was an interview with acclaimed ornithologist, billionaire, and recent blimp enthusiast, Lewis Conrad Bullfinch. In the article, there was a picture of the rotund man, and Bullfinch said that through his long career of discovering and cataloging the most rare birds on earth, there was still one who eluded his grasp. This particular bird, the Pingdu pelican, had only been spotted once and only by him. He tried and failed to capture the bird using a series of nets, but his weak wrists caused him to throw the net just short of the bird's location. The majestic pelican flew away, never to be seen again.
When the interviewer asked what Bullfinch would do for the chance to see the Pingdu pelican again, he said, "I'd give it all - my fortune, my blimp, my fame. I shan't be ready to die until that glorious pelican graces my presence once again."
This got my wheels to spinning. What if I took on the job for Bullfinch? What if I found the Pingdu pelican for him? Surely he'd reward me handsomely, and I would finally have the funds to restore my good name. I enthusiastically pitched the idea to my wife, but she very logically explained to me that I don't know anything about bird-hunting, dummy. I knew she was right of course, as she usually is 594 out of 595 times. (We keep track as part of a healthy competition between us.) But I said that I knew someone who was an expert. She shook her head bitterly but with that unspoken acceptance that usually comes along with one of my harebrained schemes, and I put out the call.
Within the hour, Mandelbaum arrived faithfully at our location. My old friend and fellow adventurer heard my idea from start to finish, listening in stoic silence. While Mandelbaum himself actually knew nothing about birds, he agreed to maintain the façade with my wife, convincing her that he would be of assistance on a bird hunt. I really do hate lying to my precious darling, but desperate times call for desperate deceptions.
We quickly retrieved the Eurydice from her dock at the soccer field behind Milwood Elementary School and prepared for departure. So here we are, ready to start a grand adventure. It's only a matter of time before my wife sees this post to you all and she learns of my lie, so Honeypoots, I want you to know that I am truly sorry. I hope to make it up to you in the form of a massive cash donation toward your shopping spree, soon after Mandelbaum and I have retrieved the Pingdu pelican and have been rewarded handsomely. In the meantime, please stay warm by the barrel.
And Reginald, don't try any funny business while I'm away. I don't want a repeat of last time.
#pingdupelican #thehuntison #nofunnybusinessreggie #honeypoots
Tuesday
Mandelbaum and I have been flying over stormy seas all day. We've been passing the time with games of shuffleboard on deck, but the discs have been flying every which way due to the constant rocking in the wind and the pouring rain. While Mandelbaum takes charge of the piloting duties, I'm usually below deck poring over collections of encyclopaedias, hoping to learn more about the Pingdu pelican, the rare bird which we seek to find. Aside from L.C. Bullfinch's findings, there's not much information out there. According to him, the bird was only seen once on a secluded island in the Atlantic, and we head there now thanks to the sextant coordinates he provided.
After several more hours of travel, we located the semi-tropical island and landed our blimp down on the beach around dusk. The rain subsided, and we ventured off into the forest on foot. We soon learned that finding the pelican would be a near impossible task, as we quickly saw how lush the island was. It was teeming with birds of all species and sexual orientations, venomous snakes, croaking toads, and the occasional squawking (though thankfully unseen) squirrel.
As Mandelbaum whacked his machete through the thick brush in a most manly fashion, we approached what had to be the center of the island. We paused at a surprising sight before us. It wasn't the pelican, but instead it was some sort of ancient temple constructed of massive limestone bricks. I couldn't imagine how such an elaborately designed and sizeable archaeological landmark could have remained undiscovered for so long, and yet, here it was. Standing there in the center circle of some ancient courtyard, I couldn't help but admire the architectural soundness of the temple and how - despite the encroaching jungle and vines slithering their way up the stones - it had survived here for so long relatively intact.
We were surprised to find we were not alone, for standing higher above us on the temple wall was Sylvia Wolfenkranz, the femme fatale from one of my previous blimping adventures. She explained to us that this was an ancient Babylonian temple far out at sea, and any treasures inside must be valuable beyond measure. Seeing as her crew of treasure hunters died just days ago due to a madness caused by eating poisonous wild berries, this left Sylvia as the only survivor of her crew and without assistance in locating the treasure. Even her former lover and partner, Wendell, had been a casualty in the party, but she said it was fine; the two of them had actually grown quite distant recently as he had taken on a series of Portuguese mistresses who were really starting to annoy her, seeing as the mistresses kept fooling around with her boyfriends.
We decided to spill the beans about being in search of the Pingdu pelican, and the three of us reached an agreement. We would help her locate the treasure, and afterward she would help us locate the Pingdu pelican. Mandelbaum and I exchanged a knowing glance. Why not just steal the treasure from her? That way we can forget about this silly pelican chase and return home stinking rich.
The entrance to the temple was harmless enough, but the main corridor quickly transitioned into an increasingly darkening and descending tunnel toward the depths. Our voices echoed ahead of us in the darkness, and our dim torches gave us no clue as to the true depths of the temple complex we had trespassed upon.
After a nervous hike deep below the earth, we reached the inner chambers of the temple, and Mandelbaum stayed behind in the main tunnel to lower us - Sylvia and me - via rope down into a dark underground chamber when the path suddenly ended. I held a torch aloft as we landed on firm ground, and Sylvia started inspecting a majestic looking stone box in the center of the room. Her eyes were shining with that kind of greedy enthusiasm so common in treasure hunters. She slowly removed the lid of the box and my curiosity and other things were aroused, if I'm being honest. We peered inside the box and I was confused to see what appeared to be a checkered board, small animal-like figurines carved of marble, and strange etchings all over.
"A board game?" I asked.
"Not just any board game," said Sylvia, and she read some of the ancient Babylonian markings on the board. "Juu-maan-jii."
Now this particular game, you may know, formed the basis of the 1995 film starring Robin Williams (RIP) and the 2017 reboot starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (also RIP starting in 2023, since advanced statistics-running computer programs have predicted his untimely death in a swordfish-related incident). But those movies were total crock because these real games of Jumanji were full of ancient Babylonian magic and were powered by an infernal device that could only have been the creation of an advanced, technology-driven society. A fascination with deadly board games is actually what caused the end to their powerful empire, as you may know.
Sylvia, always the daredevil, gave me a conspiratorial glance. "Want to play?"
"What? Here? Now?" I said as I nervously glanced backward, growing uncomfortable with the general darkness and now the idea of playing a haunted game.
She proceeded to mock me with chicken noises, insults regarding my general level of masculinity, and referred to my blimp as "deflated." I wasted no time and selected my piece first (a pelican), rolled the whale-bone die, and moved my piece on the board.
My piece landed on a black space speckled with unreadable cuneiform runes. For a while, nothing happened. Then in the darkness of the temple we heard a little chippering sound. Then a squeak. And then a squawk. And then a thousand more chippersqueaksquawks.
Within seconds the chamber was flooded with a thousand vicious and attacking squirrels. We screamed as they bit rabidly at our heels, and Mandelbaum, having heard our cries, quickly pulled us up via the ropes. Sylvia reached back and grabbed the game as we fled, but I noticed my pelican-shaped game piece had fallen on the ground. When I glanced back to retrieve it, there was no game piece. Instead, a purple-feathered, real, living pelican stood perched in its place. I couldn't believe my eyes! Before I even had time to think in the confusion, the pelican took off, flying above the horde of squirrels, over our heads, and out the main chamber.
We raced toward the exit and Mandelbaum held the rear, stomping his sasquatchian boot on any squirrel who dared to pursue us. When we exited the temple, Sylvia was nowhere to be found. She, and the priceless Babylonian relic, were gone. We knew she had duped us (probably suspecting our own duping) and disappeared with the treasure, probably never to be seen again.
As we returned to our blimp, I explained to Mandelbaum how I had seen the Pingdu pelican inside the temple. I don't think he believed me for a long while, but on our walk we glanced out at the ocean. High in the sky was a small purple figure, flapping its broad wings and vanishing into the distant horizon. We abruptly got the Eurydice up and running and continued on our chase.
#jumanji #doublecrossed #pelicansighting #borninarizonamovedtobabylonia
Wednesday
Mandelbaum and I have followed one particular jetstream across the Atlantic which we believe the Pingdu pelican has also taken. We are hot on that sexy bird's trail, and it should only be a matter of days before we can catch it. Our only fear is that it will reach the mainland before we do and venture off on a new trajectory.
It was around lunch time when our cruising speed of 40 knots came to a grinding halt. I spilled hot mollusk soup all over my lap and cursed angrily toward Mandelbaum, inquiring about the cause of our sudden stop. He said that we had been hooked by some unseen vessel in the ocean below. Sure enough, upon inspection we found that the spiny arrow of a harpoon had shot straight into our hull, latching onto us, and it was now pulling us down toward the rolling waters via a tethered rope. We tried for the next several minutes to sever the rope or detach the hook, but our efforts were in vain.
The contraption continued to pull us closer, closer toward the water. My blimp wouldn't stand a chance against the threat of those incoming, rolling waves. We were about to give up all hope and make our peace with Heaven - and I regretted the lie I told to my wife (not the lie about going on this fateful adventure, but about the time she caught me wearing women's underwear and I said that I was really just trying on a new style of blimping harness) - but just then, an enormous vessel rose up from below the water. It was a submarine, long and slender and blue. As it surfaced, our downward drag toward the waters stopped so that were floating just a few yards above the submarine and its dreaded harpoon gun.
The main hatch of the submarine opened and an eye-patched fellow holding a rifle beckoned for us to come down. Considering our situation, Mandelbaum and I agreed that the best course of action was to comply with the demand. We lowered the rope ladder and entered the submarine, terrified about who our capturer might be. The eye-patched man, we learned, was just a lackey, and he led us at gunpoint deeper into the bowels of the metallic submersible.
I immediately had my suspicions that we had been abducted by the infamous Submariners Legion, an organization that is the antithesis of the Blimping Corps. Where we revel in adventure, freedom, and hard-earned prosperity; the Submariners Legion is filled with ruthless criminals, hooligans, and thieves. Plus, they're just a bunch of smelly jerks.
We reached the vast main chamber of the submarine, and the atmosphere of the vessel abruptly changed. The all-metal corridor, filled with pipes and wheels, suddenly turned into an elaborate casino floor, filled with blackjack tables, roulette wheels, slot machines, and Xi Hai Shi Bu Xing tables. And as for the patrons of this deep-casino, they themselves must have been a nasty lot with all sorts of international warrants out for their arrest. I recognized some who clearly must have been black market traders from Singapore, mobsters from Hong Kong, and profitable arms dealers from dangerous locales. They gathered together in the circular floor of the casino, gambling away exorbitant amounts of cash and paying absolutely no attention to our presence, which made me worried just how common it was for the submariners to bring hostages aboard their vessel. A level above the casino floor, an upstairs balcony ran the entire circumference of the room, from which the armed pirates stood guard over the activities below.
Overlooking the scene from a high throne on the upper deck was the man who was surely the leader of this underwater gambling operation. He wore a turban, and his brown face sported a dark beard that curled at the mustache. When he saw us, he stood, and that's when I noticed that he was in fact about three feet tall, a dwarf. He was as short as Mandelbaum was tall. He waddled over to us and reached out a tiny hand, which I hesitantly shook, finding surprisingly that his grip was nearly as firm as Mandelbaum's.
"Welcome to the Neptune's Phallus," he said. "My name is Captain Zanzibar, and I hope your stay will be comfortable here. As long as you have money to spend, that is."
I told him that he could dispense with the formalities, and I demanded an explanation to our kidnapping.
"Well," he said, "the truth is that my crew recognized your blimp through the periscope and I ordered your immediate capture. You see, the squirrels have put a bounty on the capture of blimpmen - dead or alive. And your particular bounty was worth the most."
If that were the case, I asked him why he bothered to even take us alive, and he assured us that if we tried to escape, like the previous blimpman, our death would surely make the job much easier for him. Before I could even ask, he pointed to a terrarium down on the casino floor, where inside was the fattest snake I'd ever seen. It was clear to me that this wretched reptile had just feasted, and I dared not ask what, or who, had provided that meal. My first thoughts, I confess, were of Sylvia. Had she met this dreaded crew before us and reached a dire end? I can't say she didn't deserve such a fate, but at the same time, I couldn't help but--
"Our anaconda, Petunia, has just fed on fresh blimpman and salamander meat. But don't think that she would not enjoy a second helping, should you try anything."
I put the clues together and deduced that it was not Sylvia, but poor old Mr. Meilong - the salamander-breeding blimpman from China - had met his end here. I lowered my head in respect.
Captain Zanzibar's lackeys cuffed Mandelbaum and me to a pair of slot machines - no doubt intending to leave us shackled there until delivery to the squirrels. Time passed and we kept our voices down to a whisper. We conversed about possible means of escape from these pirates, but all possibilities seemed hopeless for us.
As the day wore on and we continued our underwater journey, fortune seemed to sway in our favor. Captain Zanzibar, being only three feet tall, got ridiculously drunk on squid liquor after only one drink. He was wobbling all over the place, and I noticed he was getting closer to the railing overlooking the anaconda tank.
"Ahoy, Zanzibar," I shouted. "If I can spin a winning jackpot on this slot machine in only one attempt, can I earn the freedom of my man and me?"
He laughed, knowing that the odds were near impossible for me. "I accept!" he shouted, and everyone in the pirate crew cheered at this entertaining challenge. "But if you lose, then I get to fart into a wine glass and you must sip the semi-liquid contents inside."
Everyone laughed. I gagged at the thought, but I felt I was left with no choice. I said, "Toss me a coin then," and one of his men did so. "And toss a wine glass to your gassy little captain, just in case."
The eye-patched fellow tossed a glass up to Captain Zanzibar, and being so drunk, I knew he would be unable to catch it. Reaching, he teetered dangerously over the rail and wobbled drunkenly, attempting to catch the glass. Suddenly, his eyes went wide as he lost his footing completely. He flopped over the rail and plummeted into the snake tank below.
The anaconda, Petunia, wasted no time crawling toward her fallen master. Even though she was still full from her previous meal, the greedy snake wasted no time in betraying her captor. She coiled around Zanzibar's body, unhinged her jaws, and slurped down the screaming dwarf face-first in one gulp. I looked away from the horrendous sight, gagging up a bit of puke.
Chaos ensued aboard the Phallus as the entire crew rushed to the aid of their leader. It was exactly the diversion we needed. Mandelbaum used a bit of leverage from the slot machine's arm and his own Samson-like strength to snap the bonds of the handcuffs that held us there, and in the confusion we dashed toward the exit. We dashed through the chambers of the sub, found our way back to the Eurydice, boarded the blimp, and took to the skies.
In our retreat, pirates shot at us from the top deck of the submarine, but by this point we were safely in the air and out of harm's way. As an added bonus, our unexpected tethering and the speed of the submarine had actually brought us closer to the shore of the mainland much faster than we had anticipated, and we were hopefully one step ahead of the Pingdu pelican. But that was truly a close call.
#snakefood #submarinersarelosers #blimpingcorpsforever #poormrmeilong
Thursday
We reached the mainland of the Americas, and I noticed we were somewhere in the vicinity of Florida. We had the blimp parked on a strip of beach, and Mandelbaum kept a vigilant watch of the skies, scanning with his extendable telescope for any sign of the Pingdu pelican. Meanwhile, I had gotten a little bored and lay down for a bit of a stretch in a dandelion patch and thanked my lucky stars for such a loyal comrade as Mandelbaum. I really could not have undertaken this adventure without the assistance of such an indefatigable, brave, and chiseled friend.
Suddenly, I was aroused from my daydreaming by the noise of a caravan of vehicles rumbling down the nearby road. I scurried to the top of a hill to get a better look, and I could easily see that it was some sort of traveling circus. In the back of trucks was an assortment of cages holding exotic animals, such as giraffes, bears, weasels, Tasmanian devils, and ostriches. But one vehicle particularly caught my eye; standing in the back of the truck was a bald man with dozens of piercings and wearing a leopard-skin vest. And in his hands, he was holding something: it was the Pingdu pelican! Even from this distance I could spot its purple feathers and bulky beak.
I ordered Mandelbaum to stop his search, and we began a hot pursuit of the circus vehicles. It took us about four hours to catch up to them, and by then, we were only able because they had stopped their journey to set up camp. When we arrived, the main circus tent had already been pitched, animals were unloaded from their cages, and performers were practicing for their acts.
We spied on them for quite some time from behind the cover of old oak trees. I came up with a quick plan for us to sneak into the camp undetected, but I noticed Mandelbaum did not follow me. When I went back to check on him, he was paralyzed with fear. I've never seen him in such a state! After all the squirrels he's annihilated, attacks from vengeful pirates, and assassination attempts from robotic babysitters (that's another story); I've never seen him once bat an eye or show a millisecond of fear. And there he was, completely frozen.
"What is it?" I asked, and he pointed. I noticed some clowns dancing happily nearby. "Seriously, you're afraid of clowns?"
But then he shook his head and pointed again. I saw a few folks in leotards swinging from ropes.
"Trapeze artists?"
He nodded. That's when it all made sense to me.
Long before Mandelbaum became a coalition agent and my butlering friend, he had a history as an award-winning trapeze performer. People were amazed that someone so large and sturdy as him could be such a graceful swinger and master of the ropes. His muscular frame seemed to defy the laws of gravity. But it was one day when he and his partner, the beautiful Brumhilda von Revony, were devastated by tragedy. In a new, never-before-seen stunt, Mandelbaum caught the beautiful Namibian by the arms, but their combined weight and the strain of so many twists and flips caused the rope of their trapeze to snap. Brumhilda fell.
She actually survived, with relatively minor injuries in fact, so that wasn't a problem at all. But then about six weeks later, a car hit her in a Red Lobster parking lot, and she died. Still to this day, Mandelbaum can't look at a trapeze (or a franchised seafood restaurant) without thinking of his lost partner.
I ventured forward, leaving the still-incapacitated Mandelbaum behind, and snuck quietly into the main circus tent alone. Inside, I caught sight of the Pingdu pelican. A whip-brandishing animal tamer was striking his whip dangerously close to the fearful bird, trying to get it to leap through a flaming ring. With each crack of the whip and the resultant terrified flinches from the tortured bird, the anger inside me burned hotter and hotter than that flaming ring.
Before I could come up with a plan, the ringmaster - the bald, pierced, leopard-vested man I saw before - spotted me and demanded that I come forward into the ring. I obeyed. In the ring, I noticed just how large the Pingdu pelican looked up close, but I had no time to really admire it.
"Jackaninny's Circus and Beastly Sideshow doesn't open for another week," said the ringmaster. "My name is Jack Marvelous. What brings you to spy on our rehearsal? Clearly you've come to steal our newest act."
He motioned toward the pelican. I introduced myself and said that I was merely a fan, but he quickly saw through my deception and noticed my intense fascination with the pelican. He explained that he had realized that this bird was special the moment he saw it, and anyone would pay top dollar to see it. He believed that I, no doubt, had realized the same and wanted to steal the bird from him.
Jack Marvelous motioned toward his clown bodyguards and they snatched me up, binding me from head to toe in colorful, stupidly-long handkerchieves (yes, that is the correct pluralization). With a mysterious jar in their hands, they forcefully pried open my mouth and stuffed it full of oozing honey from the jar. I tried to spit it out, but they held my mouth and nose shut until I swallowed it.
"What did you just feed me?!" I spat, coughing up a thick phlegm of honey.
Jack Marvelous rubbed his bald head and said, "Surely a bit of rhododendron honey will help you to relax and enjoy the show." He laughed menacingly.
I sat fearfully for the next few minutes, sweating and waiting for the infamous hallucinogenic honey to take its effects on me. I was beginning to think it was all a ploy - a scare tactic - because everything seemed normal, what with the performers continuing their rehearsal, the dancing ostriches, and the Hindu god Ganesha laughing hysterically at the clowns. Wait-- when did Ganesha get here? I don't remember anyone with an elephant head being invited to this party...
Then the world around me began to swirl in vivid neon, and I noticed my eyeballs were suddenly astral projecting outside of my body, and I could see my own empty-eye-socketed face drooling across from me. When the laughing clowns rang a loud gong, my eyeballs reattached and all the lights disappeared.
It was completely dark and silent, as if I were in an empty void, and only the Pingdu pelican was standing before me.
"Hello," he said in perfect English. "I understand you want to hold me."
I nodded my head, drooling silently.
"Go on, have a feel," he said.
I reached out and stroked my hand on his gloriously soft purple feathers.
"Have a taste while you're at it."
I held out my tongue and the taste of his fluffy, sweet, honey-like feathers filled my mouth.
"Now, become me."
I nodded stupidly, and in a flash, I was the Pingdu pelican. I saw his life - my life - playing out before me in a series of flashbacks. The highlight reel showed the time I hatched out of my egg inside the dark Babylonian temple, my first meal of delicious starfish, my first romantic attraction with the blowhole of a swimming dolphin... and then my mother's death.
She was the only other pelican in my life, and she was shot down from the sky by some sort of loud-popping, invisible bee sting. Her body splashed into the ocean below, and all I could hear was, "Curses! She fell into the bloody ocean. I'll aim for the young one - and this time don't let it sink!"
There were some strange creatures on two legs standing on the beach, and one of them was holding the weapon that killed my mother.
Suddenly, all reality snapped back into place, and I was no longer the Pingdu pelican. Instead, I had the human awareness to know what had happened: the human on that beach that fateful day, the one who killed the pelican's mother, was none other than L.C. Bullfinch! It was the very man to whom I sought to deliver this pelican. In good faith, I knew that was not a possibility any longer. I needed to help this pelican escape. But first, I needed to escape myself.
Jack Marvelous noticed that I had come out of my honey-induced stupor, and he ordered the clowns to feed me more. When all seemed ill for me, Jack Marvelous was knocked to the ground cold by one enormous brown fist straight into his face. He hit the floor of the tent hard, spilling his loose piercings and teeth all over the place.
Mandelbaum rubbed his fist and turned to face the clowns. He grabbed two of them, slamming their heads together like a couple of coconuts, and all the others wisely took off running in retreat.
At that moment, a circus bear that was clearly hopped up on rhododendron honey sprung into action, attacking this newcomer with slashing paws. He roared ferociously, and Mandelbaum narrowly ducked out of the way. Now, you may know that the best defense against bear attacks is for your friend to play dead, thus sacrificing his body while you run away safely, but I can tell you that there is one better defense: have a Mandelbaum at your side.
The bear lunged forward, but Mandelbaum didn't even flinch. Instead, he thrust his arm forward, his fist going straight into the bear's salivating mouth. Mandelbaum shoved his arm deep down into its throat, all the way up to his elbow. The gagging bear lifted Mandelbaum off the ground and swung him around by the arm, but my glorious avenger would not let go.
In a few seconds, the bear was choked out by lack of oxygen and collapsed on the floor with a giant unconscious thud. In the battle of Mandelbaum vs. Bear, my loyal companion was the clear victor. Then he caught sight of the swinging trapeze nearby and he let out a tiny, girl-like scream.
I said, "Really? You'll fight a bear, but you still can't look at a trapeze?"
He shrugged.
Before making our escape from the tent, I walked over to the perching Pingdu pelican nearby. The bird didn't seem to cower at my proximity; instead, he stepped out onto my outstretched arm. I stared at him for a moment, admiring all that I had learned about this majestic bird. I knew this would be my only opportunity to take this bird into my control, to arrange the exchange with Bullfinch, to receive my fortune, to rectify my dire financial situation, and to make me and my wife happy again. The bird simply looked me in the eye, as if he knew all that I was considering. There was no fear in that glossy pupil, just acceptance that decision lay with me.
After a moment of consideration, I instead walked the bird outside and released him into the wild. As we watched the bird fly away, Mandelbaum didn't even ask me why I did it; he must have silently trusted my judgment.
#flyingfree #bearattack #boycottjackaninnys
#brumhildavonrevony #honeydreams
Friday
Mandelbaum and I drifted the Eurydice over the ocean for most of the day, for we were not ready to return home empty-handed. What would dear Honeypoots say to me if, on top of all my lies, I returned with no solution to our sorry financial predicament? I couldn't face the wrath of those tiny hands - not again. Plus, by now my manservant Reginald would have put the moves on her, and I couldn't deal with having to fire another butler.
We lurched forward over the Atlantic until something in the distance caught our eye. It was a bright orange dot, and I recognized it almost immediately. It was the hot air balloon named the Nephthys. As we gained speed on her (a difficult task for sure), we saw our double-crosser from the Babylonian temple on board: Sylvia Wolfenkranz. We gained speed on her and got within communicable distance. I could tell she was shocked to see us there, but she brushed us off and increased the flames speeding her balloon along. I cursed at her for her betrayal of us earlier this week when she ran off with the ancient Jumanji game. What was even worse, I saw, was that she had something caged on board next to her: it was the Pingdu pelican! The poor purple seabird that we had let free just yesterday was now in the clutches of this vile betrayess.
"It's too late!" she shouted at us. "The pelican is mine, and I will be delivering him to Bullfinch soon enough!"
She pointed, and straight ahead of us I noticed a third airship had joined the fray. It was L.C. Bullfinch's blimp, the Condor Sublime. The massive blimp was magnificent, white and shining in the sky, and I was jealous of the wealth this man was clearly putting on display.
We, along with Wolfenkranz, tethered our blimps to the Condor and boarded. Bullfinch was on deck, waiting for us, seated at a dinner table out on the gondola's deck. With a bib unceremoniously tucked into shirt collar, the fat man laughed merrily at the sight of the Pingdu pelican, nearly choking on the bite of food he was chewing. I looked down at his white tablecloth and noticed the extravagant meal spread out before him; there were all sorts of exotic poultries laid out.
"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "You're an ornithologist, and here you are eating endangered birds! Albatross confit, Eskimo curlew pudding, and upland sandpiper stew."
"Ah, you know your avian delicacies," he admired. "You must be a wealthy blimpman yourself. I don't believe we've had the honor of meeting before."
I introduced myself, citing sadly that I was no longer a wealthy blimpman, and I explained that until just yesterday, it was I who was seeking to bring this fabled bird to him.
That is, until I learned the truth. I learned how he killed this bird's mother, and he was only seeking the bird so that he may dine on its delicious purply flesh.
Sylvia seemed surprised to learn this information, but she said, "None of this matters to me. I've come to arrange a trade for the price agreed upon."
With flapping jowls and wipe of his messy chin, Bullfinch summoned his manservant to go and fetch his checkbook, but the whole ordeal was interrupted by a magnificent crashing sound and a jolt. Mandelbaum and I were the first to realize what was happening, for we ran into the same predicament just days ago. We pointed down to the ocean below us, and sure enough, the submarine named the Neptune's Phallus was rising from the depths, having just latched onto us with a tether. More surprisingly though, it was not alone; another submarine surfaced, then another, and then another. Soon the entire Submariners Legion was in the mix.
Sylvia panicked and retreated back to her hot air balloon, still holding the Pingdu pelican's cage in her arms. Bullfinch was enraged at her retreat and ordered his crew to attack her. Within seconds, a swarm of brown sparrows (aka "the squirrels of the sky") jettisoned out of the hold and started darting toward Sylvia's balloon.
Meanwhile, I looked down at the evil submarines below. A hatch opened on the Phallus, and the short-statured captain, Captain Zanzibar, stepped out onto the deck. I was surprised to see him still alive after being swallowed whole by an anaconda, but I realized how such a thing might be possible. His face was badly burned, wrapped in bandages, pussing profusely from pink oozing blisters - no doubt burns from the snake's digestive stomach acids.
"My crew had to cut me out of Petunia's belly!" he shouted at me. "Neither she, nor my face, survived the operation. Now I plan to return the favor by cutting off yours!"
Bullfinch was pleading loudly that none of this grudge concerned him, but Captain Zanzibar and the other submariners weren't having it. They continued launching more and more tethered harpoons at the blimp.
Just then, Mandelbaum and I heard a scream come from the Nephthys across the way. The attack sparrows had pierced Sylvia's balloon, and she was losing altitude at a dangerous rate. She sank lower and lower, and I could only watch helplessly as it happened. Surely this would be a fair end for her; but something didn't sit right with me. In moments, she would either sink in the ocean or fall victim to the submariners.
Some movement caught the corner of my eye, and that's when I noticed that Mandelbaum had jumped up onto the railing of the blimp. He stood there, balanced like a majestic bird, and my vertigo kicked in as I feared that he was about to fall overboard to his watery grave below. Instead, he deftly balanced on the thin rail with no supports and grabbed hold of a rope ladder nearby. He tucked one of the rungs between his thunderous thighs.
"Wait," I said, "a trapeze? No, Mandelbaum, you're not ready."
But he didn't listen to me and he leapt from the rail, freefalling into the open abyss. I was too frozen to even look away, but my heart stopped for what seemed to be hours. As Mandelbaum reached the lowest point of his pendulum swing, the rope went taught, and he began to rise, up and up toward Sylvia's balloon. He was swinging from his legs, truly showcasing why he had been such a glorious trapeze artist in his prime.
He motioned for Sylvia to jump, and though she was terrified, she leapt - still holding the pelican's cage. She freefalled in the open air for a few seconds until Mandelbaum narrowly caught her by the hand.
I gasped in relief. He swung back in a reverse arc, dropped Sylvia and the bird onto the deck of the blimp, and completely stuck this sick landing with a sort of backflip. It was totally sick.
"Mandelbaum, you're amazing!" I said.
And then he punched Bullfinch in the face for no reason.
The fat old man was crying on the ground, shouting curses at us, unable to lift himself up.
"Curse my weak wrists!"
Most of his crew began abandoning ship, jumping overboard and into the ocean below. Mandelbaum, Sylvia, the Pingdu pelican, and I retreated onto the Eurydice where we made a quick escape. We used the Condor as a shield from the Legion's tethers. We looked back and Bullfinch was screaming as his blimp got dragged closer and closer toward the ocean. Soon, Captain Zanzibar and the others drug his vessel down into the waters, surely leaving him there to drown. We flew away knowing that Bullfinch met his end and hopefully the Legion would retire its pursuit of us, at least for now.
On our way back home, Sylvia apologized to us for the inconveniences wrought to us this week, but I nobly told her to think nothing of it. We dropped her off with a passing pod of dolphins, who squeaked an assurance that she would make it home safely upon their backs. We felt a few days at sea aboard the back of a dolphin, forced to listen to their cult's religious propaganda and aggravatingly catchy sing-along hymns, would be enough punishment for her.
Mandelbaum gave me a pat on the back, and my friend silently returned to his duties piloting the blimp. There I was, left alone with the caged Pingdu pelican. I released the bird from its cage and waited. As it waddled out toward freedom, the bird looked at me with that glossy eye and opened its massive beak wide. Inside its gizzard I could see a box, which I recognized immediately. It was the priceless Babylonian relic that Sylvia stole: the Jumanji game! The pelican wanted me to have it. With this game, I could surely pay off some of my debts and better the lives of my wife and me.
"Thank you, noble bird," I said, gently retrieving the priceless box.
And then it pooped this disgusting white mess all over the deck of my blimp, flapped its wings, and took off. My hunt for the Pingdu pelican had truly reached its end.
#theend #getamop #poopdeck #battleforthepingdupelican
#trapeze #dolphincult #imissmyhoneypoots
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