It
wasn’t a dark or stormy night in the Underworld.
Well,
not more than any average west coast evening in the Underworld, where The Craw
paced furiously in his Lair, wearing a small trench in his earthen floor. He
had just come back from the medical clinic – a small little problem with parts
of his face rotting off after 4,645 years of abuse, and some unwanted tenants
therein.
With a
heavy sigh, he logged onto the Undernet and for once, bypassed his favorite
site full of pictures of saucy otters and several fetching young badgers in
skimpy fur outfits.
Absentmindedly
extracting a small rodent from an open wound in his face and flinging it into a
corner, he logged on to his medical portal to see if his test results were in.
His ancient eyes glowed with excitement as a small skull and crossbones icon
appeared to let him know his medical mail was waiting.
“Oh
boy!” exclaimed The Craw, for he was far too tired to initiate a search of his
vocabulary database for a more exciting phrase.
The
news was not as bad as he had expected. He appeared to have a small infestation
of Nutria living in several puckered holes in his face, and he ran a long claw
under his chin thoughtfully. Oh sure, there was a lotion for that, but what fun
was it to kill by ointment? No fun at all, he was pretty sure. There had to be
a more fun-based approach to de-vermining his craggy visage.
It was
obvious that he would have to commit some time to devising the perfect plan.
The Craw’s brain sputtered roughly to life as he rebooted his cerebellum,
hoping for some increased speed, or to free up some…..what was it?
Oh
yes…memory.
Several
dark and disturbing plans began to form in his mind, and the distant sound of
hoofbeats thundered ominously from somewhere within the author’s brain. The
Craw concentrated forcefully, and his eyes turned blood-red from the exertion
of his thoughts. With a sudden pop, and a loud wheeze, his brain blew out a
small artery, and sputtered to a halt, with several half-formed ideas still
encased in their gelatinous packaging.
Knowing
further development was unlikely, The Craw unwrapped the first idea with a glee
bordering on hysteria, as he pictured the squatting family of Nutria being
evicted from his facial crags, hopefully at an hour most inconvenient to his
unwanted guests.
"Mwaaaaaah-hahahahah!”
laughed The Craw evilly, picturing the varmints being awakened early from their
repose, and tossed unceremoniously out of his face and onto the earthen floor,
where he would point at them and accuse them of acts that would shock even the
most flagrant violators of taste and decorum. That would show them.
On the
other hand, The Craw wasn’t sure if that plan was vengeful enough to cheer him
from his current doldrums.
Opening
another half-baked idea, The Craw pondered this one for some time. It required
extensive planning, several lengths of audio wire, a USB port, 16 “D”
batteries, a transgendered pineapple-flavored squirrel, and several pages of
XML code. In fact, this plan was so half-baked, The Craw wasn’t entirely sure
what the plan actually WAS, and in keeping with his usual modus operandi, he
chose that plan above all others.
To be
continued.....….or is it?
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