Ark's Ark

For those who missed it, the insanity began here. If anyone else was subjected to the same sort of bizarre children’s stories I was (I’m looking at you, Enid Blyton!), they’ll know what I’m shooting for here.

Part 2. The plot thickens.

His wicked sitting ways were not restricted to chairs of course. He had wide-ranging tastes, and no snoozing small animal or childs toy left upon a couch was safe from being sat upon. He quickly became despised by the cats of Jollyton, who would hiss at him, from what they judged a safe distance, when he passed. Fortunately he was built for sitting, not speed.

The cooling of his social opportunities were not at all unexpected by the Professor. This was not the first, second, nor even twelvth town which he had visited, and he was sure he would have plenty more good sits in Jollyton before it’s exceptionaly forgiving denizens finally stopped letting him into their homes at all. But all was not well. He took great pride in his sitting, and was concerned that without regular practise of his skills he might become rusty, and so he resolved to visit the shop of Mr Knot the carpenter to buy some emergency chairs.
Continue reading The Adventures of Mathias Brandt. Part 2.

Once upon a time, there was a gentleman by the name of Professor Butterburger. Professor Butterburger liked sitting on things. Hard. When he moved into the town of Jollyton, everybody had been extremely pleased to have such a learned man join their community, and he had received countless invitations to take tea. His visits would go something like this :

“Why, Professor Butterburger! How lovely to see you today. Have a seat while I make us a nice cup of tea, and maybe a spot of cake.”

“Why thankyou! Don’t mind if I do!”, he would say, targetting the nearest chair, and collapsing upon it with as much force as he could muster. KRUMPH!

“Oh my! Dear Professor, are you hurt? I am so terribly sorry.”

“My goodness. How on EARTH did that happen? It must have been broken already!”

“Yes, I suppose it must have been. Please, you must be quite shaken up. Do sit down.” KRUMPH!

“My chair!”

“My bottom! You must have woodworm! I cannot think of any other possible explanation. Let me test your other chairs.”

“No! I mean, I just remembered that I have a terribly important appointment that I really cannot be late for. I’m afraid we shall have to take tea another day.”

“Oh dear, that is a shame. Well, I bid you good day!”, and he would leave, feeling extremely pleased with himself. Upon reaching home, he would write the details of his sitting in his sitting journal, and mark himself for style, strength, and quantity.

After a time, it will not surprise you to hear that people stopped inviting him to visit.