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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 1)
Letter1
St. Petersberg, Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the
commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil
forebodings. (In fact, I think putting an amusement park in
France is a GOOD idea.)
Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking .
Six Years! And you thought that the play we went to would never end!
When I heard that there was a ship in dock named the Enterprise, I knew
it was a sign. Unfortunately, upon meeting the Captain of that vessel,
I was immediately struck by what a bad actor he was. I don't feel
that I could withstand another bout of dreadful lines, and so I have made
arrangements to meet with the captain of the Pequod tonight.
Best of Luck,
Your loving brother.
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********************************************************************************
This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 2)
Letter2
St. Petersberg, Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
I am sorry to announce that I have failed to gain a berth on the Pequod.
It is probably just as well, for the Captain seemed an odd bird.
He entered the cafe with one of his sailors, who immediately went up
to the waitress and grumbled: "be ye sixteen or be yer parents here?"
The Captain sat down at my table and told me of his all consuming
fascinations. (They were about a part of his anatomy!)
I was trying to think of some way to get out of the arrangement when
an enormously fat woman, wearing a white shirt, walked by the front
door of the cafe. The captain seemed startled to see her, and then leapt
from the chair, rushed down the street and I never saw him again.
The bartender, Mike, has noticed my misfortune. He has instructed
me that his friend Sammy has an acquaintance named Sandy, who can get
me on board a ship.
We leave tonight, I will post more later.
Love,
David J.B. Walton
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 3)
Letter3
Arctic Circle , Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
Well, we are hopelessly lost at sea. Luckily we are in sight
of a CanadaPost Supermailbox, so I can post this letter. Whether
you will ever see me or the letter again remains to be seen.
According to Mike the Bartender's advice, I hired a friend
of a friend to take me to Chile. Unfortunately, the old
man thought I wanted to go somewhere chilly, which explains why we
are floating about the Arctic Ocean in a rowboat.
When I asked him if he knew where we were headed, he said
he didn't have the foggiest idea, Sandy Eggo was navigating,
then he pointed at his sock.
I have decided not to ask any more questions.
Respectfully,
Dave
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 4)
Letter4
Arctic Circle , Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
Luckily, the old man is a good fisherman, although somewhat
of a boring storyteller. His fishing prowess is all that keeps us
from starvation. He tried to cheer my sagging spirits by telling me
he once went 84 days without catching a fish. I wonder if anyone has
ever commented on how long he has gone without taking a bath?
Regardless, I do not wish to be around that long to find out.
This morning he thought that he had caught a small marlin, but it
turned out to be a man!
"I guess I probably shouldn't use the harpoon", the Captain
noted glumly.
" Go for it!", came a voice in the vicinity of his sock.
I sincerely hope that this stranger is more sane than the rest
of the crew on board ship. However, considering that five minutes ago
he was flailing about in freezing water near the Arctic circle, I
am not keeping my hopes up.
Best Wishes
Your Loving brother.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 5)
Letter5
Arctic Circle , Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
The stranger has awoken. My hopes about his sanity immediately dropped
when he started babbling uncontrollably. It was then that I realized that
he was speaking a broken English. Sure enough, he turned out to be a
University professor, or some such being. A copy of the first issue of the
New Yorker Magazine floated by the boat and I immediately felt a shiver
run up my spine.
I asked the stranger how he came to be thrashing about in the middle
of the Arctic Ocean. He replied that he had been chasing a dog sled
across the ice floes when he neared my boat. Unfortuntely, the props
manager for this story is the same guy who is in charge of the ice
at the Winnipeg Arena. Naturally, the ice cracked and melted, plunging
him into the bitterly cold waters.
When I pressed him further about the nature of his chase, he embarked on
one of the strangest, but luckily only another 9 segments or so, tale,
which was so fantastic that I was tempted to post a letter to AFU to
determine it's veracity. (That's alt.folklore.urban, by the way; I
promise to try to cut down on my inane abbreviations. I can only hope
that future generations do not bastardize their native tongues this way.)
His story follows.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 6)
I was born in Ulm, Germany. When I was 6, my family moved to Geneva,
Switzerland. It took my younger brother and I several years to find them.
We led a quiet rural life, my friends and I would hang around the
Austrian Tire playing Dice with our Masters of the Universe colection.
Other times we would cruise the streets of Geneva in a car we borrowed
from Hertz' mom. Those were the days, hanging out with Hertz, Thomson,
The Paradox twins, that bore Neils, sometimes we excluded Pauli, and
I think Heisenberg was there, but I can't be certain.
It was about this time, that we adopted an orphaned girl, Norma Jean
Kennedy. Though I always addressed her as cousin, my instincts told
me we were fated to be much closer. The time I spent with her distracted
me from my other interests. My brother started to solve most of the problems
around the house. He was constantly fascinated with the old water well that
the previous owner had installed. It was infinitely deep, yet infinitely thin.
As a result there was not enough rope to attach to the water bucket, and even
with a finite rope, the bucket was too thick to fit down the well.
Because of my intellectual lapses, I started to receive criticism from my
parents.
"Why can't you be more like your brother Albert?"
"You don't see your brother going out with his hair all unkempt and smoking
a pipe."
The Final straw came when Homer Thomson was discussing the shape of
the atom outside the Austrian Tire.
"You know I bet the electrons fit in the atom like raisins
in plum pudding. Mmmmmmmmmmm, pudding."
"That is a difficult question", said Pauli, "I sure wish we had a kid
like Albert."
I then resolved to find some way of solving the Delta Well.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 7)
I learned that the previous owner of my house was now a professor
of Science in Romania. When time for college came, my friend Erwin and I
enrolled in the Cental Romanian Assosciation of Chemists, and Kinetic
Physicists Of Transylvania.
The college which was situated high in the Alps, leaned over an
enormous cliff which fell away into nothing. The atmosphere was one of
sickness and decay and misery, the football team had not had a national
contender since the seventies. There I met the man who unknowingly shaped
my destiny. The Head scientist introduced himself as Count Dirac. I
was intrigued by the pointed sharpness of his bicuspids.
"The better to open beer cans at Frat parties with", he explained.
My education under Count Dirac was swift, although my friend Erwin,
seemed to have difficulty understanding wave equations.
"All right Erwin, suppose we have a Particle in a box."
"Is it a cat?"
"No, it's just a particle."
"How about an infinitely small cat?"
"All right, there's an infinitely small cat and a um, uh... a poison pill
and some,... some Radium and when the Radium decays, the poison gets set
off and the cat dies. There, ARE YOU HAPPY?
After a while, Erwin was driving Count Dirac so nuts, that the Count was
practically climbing castle walls to avoid him.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 8)
Several months passed, but the solution of Dirac's Delta Well still
seemed to elude me. While I was reading my second hand copy of Cornelius
Agrippa's textbook a thought came to me:
"Why don't these moron first years just use their yellow hi-liters to
hi-lite all the sections that they don't think are important, rather than
colouring in every page a solid yellow?
After letting my bitterness subside, I remembered my younger brother, who
was now studying in Ingolstadt, probably on the same problem I was focusing
my energies on. Instead of trying to out-think him I decided to create
a superior being capable of out-thinking my smart-ass brother.
I renewed my studies with an intense vigor. While working late one
night I realized that I had stumbled on to the secret of imparting
life to inanimate objects. I started with very simple life forms
such as undergraduate students, earthworms, grubs, maggots and the Canadian
Senate. After moderate successes, and I say moderate because as soon as
the Senate showed signs of life it started to produce more senators, I
decided I was ready to try to create my ultimate human specimen.
Many of my parts I was able to get at the nearest Radio Shack, but since
some vital components, such as flesh and marrow had to be extracted
from the hot-dogs at 7-11. My work became more meticulous. One night as I wandered through the deserted stands of the school football stadium, it
occurred to me that I could get all the human flesh I needed at the local
cemetery. Naturally, my friend, this must shock you, but take note that I
asked all the corpses if they had any misgivings, since most of them replied
in the negative, I quickly forgeed their names on Organ Donor cards and
presented them to the head gatekeeper. Mr. King had no reason to doubt their
veracity, and so I was in the clear.
********************************************************************************
This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 9)
It was a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my
toils. As I stepped back from the lab table I stared down at the creation
which I had given life to. In the moon's light, I could just make out the
patchwork of yellow skin, the shock of lustrous black hair, and the
shrivelled complexion, that looked up at me with watery dun eyes, a black
lipped smile exposing his brilliant white teeth.
I recoiled from the horrible sight, and almost shrank in fear at what I
had created.
"Oh horror! HORROR!", I cried, and rushed from the room.
In trying to create a superhuman, something had gone horribly awry.
I had created a used-car salesman.
I rushed from the room and into the streets, where I ran into Erwin.
Noticing my aggravation, he tried to settle me, and insisted on taking
me home. I instructed him:
"Please just wait outside, a minute, while I tidy up the disection,
I mean, the sectional in the living room."
The creature had vacated the apartment. Erwin came in and sat with me
for several minutes in silence. Mere seconds seemed like an eternity.
Finally he spoke.
"Hey did you ever read the Tell-Tale...."
"FIEND!!!", I screamed, "Taunt me no longer, I admit it, I have created
a monster from old flesh and stolen Radio Shack pieces! How dare you
taunt me with this psychological game of yours. To have the audacity
to sit there and then to bring up The Tell-Tale Heart it is almost too
much for my...."
"HOLD ON, HOLD ON", he cried. "The Tell Tale What? Heart? I've never
heard of it. I was talking about the Tell-Tale Bunny. You see, there's
this bunny, named Phil and he has problem flatulence, so everywhere he goes,
he leaves these little tell-tale carrot scents. Oh, sorry, what was that
about a hideous monster?"
In that moment I confessed. It looks like it might take longer to tell
this than the 9 segments I promised. I then took Erwin into the room
and showed him my chemical apparatus and the table from whence my creation came.
"You know I hear soap and water will get those stains out. But I still don't
see how you brought the creature to life."
Then Erwin recoiled in horror.
"You aren't setting me up for the Hare revitalizer with a natural wave
joke, are you?
I assured him I was not.
"You see it only required a little jolt to animate him."
"How did you manage to harness the electrical energy, though?"
"What electrical Energy? I just gave him one of these."
Erwin held the canister up to the light.
"Wow! TWICE the sugar and TWICE the caffeine!"
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 10)
Erwin and I left our rooms to search for the creature. While the
path of devestation was easy to pick out, the end result was a total
disaster. The creature has headed straight for the school football
stadium, doubtlessly assuming the banners displayed there indicated an all out
liquidation sale. After crashing through the security gates, he headed staight
for the field and tackled the first man he found, driving him a foot into the
ground. The football coach, Lou P. Garou, rushed out onto the field screaming
at the creature. The creature turned and grunted menacingly at Lou.
After sizing up the creature and noticing the effect he had on his fallen
player, the coach immediately offered a scholarship to the grotesque
figure beside him. Erwin immediately seized the opprotunity, and
rushed up to the coach, explaining that a mistake had been made, that
the creature was my brother Bob, and that as his agents we were entitled to
fringe benefits. The coach grudgingly relented. A couple of UGHs from the
creature,(Bob), sealed the deal.
Bob's first game was a rousing success. After the first half, he had
completely crushed the entire opposition into the ground, causing them
to be called several times for too many men in the field. For the second
half, none of the opposition returned to the field and Central Romania
had won it's first game in several years, by default. Word of Central's
victory spread around the campus, next week's game quickly sold out.
Brian Bosworth, the president of the National Communist Athletic Assosciation,
filed a written complaint to the University complaining of Bob's rough
play and overall foul body odour. In it, he demanded that Bob be removed from
Central's Defensive squad. It was decided that Bob would be moved to the running back position, and after covering him with pine-tree car fresheners,
(which for some reason never sold well in the 19th century), we rushed on
to the field for the next game.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is ruining the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 11)
Once again Central Romania had won, every time Bob was given the ball,
he plowed through the defensive lines for a touchdown. Bob had single-
handedly won the game for Central Romania, his right hand having rotted away,
when he reached into the Gatorade bucket. His Total Yardage statistics
were so impressive that some sportscasters were comparing him to the great
Wrigley P. Forrester from the Albania Crimson Tide or Helmholtz trophy
winner Bill Wunkle from Wossamatta U.
While Bob had become an instant celebrity on campus, his team-mates
slowly started to resent Bob. Not only had Bob been going to his classes,
but he had been doing surprisingly well at them. After three weeks, he had already been placed in Advanced Physics classes. The time seemed right, and
I approached Bob with my problem. He responded with a non-comittal shrug,
saying it looked interesting and he would try solving it. For the rest of
the week we did not see him. Lou Garou was howling at the thought of Bob
skipping practice. Finally the night before the big showdown with Forrest
Hump, the tailback of Notre Dame, Bob strolled restlessly into the local
bar. I could not contain my curiosity.
"So, Bob", I asked, "How is Dirac's delta well coming along?"
I was not prepared for the raw display of emotion which followed.
"YOU FIEND! How DARE you, submit this problem to me! It is impossible
to fathom, What cold-blooded individual would ask such a thing of a
student of Science? I feel that Count Dirac wishes to suck my life's
blood from me."
The problem, and his inability to solve it, had apparently consumed his
will and reduced him to the menacing, emotional animal that leapt from my
lab table. In his rage he completely trashed the school bar, splintering
tables into triangular fragments, with such sharp corners that I was fearful
they could impale someone, should he choose to toss them around. After taking
his frustrations out on the bar, he stormed out of the wreckage and out into
the night.
The bar owners were in shock, their furnishings seemed entirely useless.
It could only have been a miracle that a decorator from a small western
University decided to buy the splintered, blackened tables.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is ruining the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 12)
Despite our fears to the contrary, Bob arrived for the Notre Dame game.
He was nervous as he paced up and down the sidelines. We knew he was
a disaster waiting to happen we just hoped that nothing would set him off.
It was then that the Notre Dame cheerleaders started their taunt:
Central, Central, can go to hell
You can't solve Dirac's Delta well.
The taunting was more than Bob could stand, he rushed from the sidelines
angered, and crushed the crowds in his way, including a young scientist
named MacMurray. So much for winning the game with our Plan B.
The subsequent loss crushed our hopes for a national championship,
we would have to settle for cheering between Blood and Blood Lite in the
Blood Bowl. No one took the loss harder than my friend Erwin.
Erwin rushed into my lab room, clutching at the canister on the lab
table, eager to repeat the experiment I had performed earlier, he readied
himself.
"Stop I screamed that's not Jolt!"
But it was too late he had downed the entire bottle.
"What have I done" he cried.
"It was Diet Pepsi."
Erwin was sick for weeks.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is ruining the big-scream adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 13)
For six weeks I nursed my friend back to health. In the meantime
I recieved a letter from my father.
My dear son Frank,
I was very pleased to hear that you are doing well.
Erwin wrote me a couple of months ago to tell me about
the school and your work. We just received our weekly
letter from Albert, he asked me to say hello to you.
Momma was concerned that you hadn't written recently,
but I told her you were probably quite busy, and that
she should stop worrying or her Scarlet Fever might
get worse. We are all doing fine, my back does not hurt
as much anymore, and I think doing 12 hours of chores each
day is actually making it stronger. Norma Jean also misses
you, she was mentioning how sad she was that she hadn't
had any speaking lines since she showed up last Monday.
Well I know you are busy, write when you have time. We
hope you have time to visit before our time is up.
Love, Dad.
P.S. Your friend Pauli seems to have had some misfortune.
It seems that some lunatic decided to rend him limb
from limb.
After reading my father's letter, I realized what had to be done.
I had to stop giving out my mailing address. The post-script however,
intrigued me. My poor friend's death necessitated a visit home.
I booked passage with the MacDonald Travel Service, which turned
out to be a huge mistake. Not only did they lose our luggage, but it also
seemed that the train conductor had no idea where we were going. As we
rolled through the darkness near my familiar hometown, I thought that I saw
a large horrible figure silhouetted by the full moon. The sight gave me
a shiver that chilled my spine. Man, I thought, that Roseanne woman gives
me the creeps.
At the train station we were met by my dear Norma Jean.
"I am so happy to see you", she said, "I thought I would never get any
speaking lines. But what a horrible thing has happened", she continued,
"Your friend Pauli has been ripped to shreds by some homicidal maniac."
"How horrible", was my reply, "Have they caught the killer?"
"They believe they have, they are blaming the music teacher Justine."
A terrible wrong was about to be committed, and I set off for the
magistrate to set it right.
"How can you possibly blame the savage death of Pauli to that young
wisp of a girl? Justine does not deserve to die."
"Doesn't deserve to die?" the Judge replied, "Have you seen the movie
`Satisfaction'? Doesn't deserve to die MY ASS! Besides we know it was
her," and he showed me the scarred remains of the body he had conveniently
on display in the lobby, "Look she even marked the body with a one-eighth
note."
"That's not a one eighth note! It's the Greek letter Delta! Much like
the one on my ,......You know Satisfaction was a REALLY BAD movie, wasn't it?"
And so, an innocent girl died as a result of my creation.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Harry Smelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 14)
The misfortune of what I had created hung heavily on my conscience.
Naturally I needed a vacation. I was eating at a Swiss chalet in
Chamounix, when I decided to take a hike into the Alps and scale
Montavert. It was a bright crisp morning when I set out, but gradually
the weather turned foul and rain soaked me while I climbed. As I neared
the summit, the clouds lifted and I was left with a beautiful view of the
valley. I watched as a young nun from a nearby convent ran past my
line of sight, singing. As she disappeared from view I was left again
with the beautiful panorama.
"There can surely be no lovelier sight", I exclaimed to the heavens.
"What can possibly break me from such a happiness as this?"
It was then that I noticed the figure of a man ascending towards me
at great speed. He easily leapt the crevices and avoided the slicks
of mud, still wet from the rain, which seemed to hover around him.
"What kind of idiot would go climbing on such a miserable day?" I
thought. As he neared I realized the enormity of his stature and who it was
that now approached.
"Hey!" I called, "didn't you play Lurch in the Addams' Family?"
"Fool", was his reply, "It is I, the one you have created."
"Tyrant" I screamed, "Do you know how much hatred I feel for you?"
"How men hate the wretched", he started, "How hated I must be, who am
more miserable than any, with the possible exception of insurance
salesmen and those Mormons who go door to door with their kids."
"Innocent people have died at your hands, including my friend Pauli,
I must atone for giving you the power to destroy."
I lunged at him, a move which he easily avoided.
"Honestly", the creature said, "if you really wish to solve our
differences in such a melodramaticm fashion; we could at least market
ourselves to the WWF and make some quick cash at a Wrestlemania. But
you have made me stronger, larger and more agile than yourself. You have
no chance in defeating me, you showed no love towards Justine or Pauli,
why should you be so upset with me?"
"This storyline was supposed to end today, and yet somehow you have
managed to continue its existence for at least another week."
"How dare you wish to destroy the storyline that you yourself have created.
What gives you the right to sport so with art? Did you not think that
I, once gaining life, would not fight to preserve it?"
"Wretched day, that I wrongly bestowed that gift to you."
"Grant me an audience, and I will tell you how you may finish this
storyline."
I relentingly agreed, and followed him to his lair.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 15)
As I entered the cave which must have been his home for the last
several weeks, it struck me how lonely and miserable he must be.
Aside from the cement block book-shelves, the floors were littered
with empty Pizza boxes and Kraft Dinner cartons. I asked him how
he was enjoying rural life.
"Well, it has all the amenities of living in the city, but the
property taxes are much lower. Of course, you still get the Mormons
coming around....Geez! talk about longing for acceptance!"
"How did you come to settle here, what has happened to you,
and how can we wrap up the story by the end of the week?"
The chit-chat was over and Bob proceeded to tell me his story.
"After I left the Football stadium in disgrace, I wandered throughout the
countryside, everywhere I went people seemed to know of my disgrace, I was
constantly asked, `Are you well?', `You don't look well', or `Well, well
well, who have we here?' Everyone kept saying well, Well, WELL!, everyone
except one grizzled old man who thought I was `that yellow-belly from
Battle Creek'. It was only after I had destroyed half the town that I realized
that they were concerned, and not harping on my past failures. I had never
thought of my face as looking unhealthy, in fact I was rather fond of my
countenance. Dead skin tissue means never having to worry about shaving. By this time however they were not in a particularly caring mood anymore. I was forced to wander on.
I chanced upon a poor family of cottagers, and tried to endear
myself to them by performing their daily chores during the night, while they
slept. I thought that I had befriended them, when the old blind man said.
`If only our mysterious friend could fix that old well.' Sure enough, it
was another of those accursed Dirac Delta Wells. In my rage I had accidentally
scared off my new-found friends, and again I had to move on. I decided to
return to your hometown, where I ran into Pauli who was reading a letter
home from Erwin. In the letter he had enclosed a copy of the University's
student newspaper. Behind an extremely mediocre comics page was a story
describing the humiliation of the football team. He recognized me at once,
again I was taunted and again I lashed out at my abuser. Everywhere I go
I am tormented. This is why I need your help. You must provide a companion
for me. One who will not mock my shortcomings and help me overcome my
problem with......will you stop giggling!"
"I'm sorry, that line about shortcomings."
"That's not what I meant", he replied coldly. "And while your
creating her, make sure she has a nice pair of.......You're GIGGLING again!"
"I'm REALLY sorry, but that's SO childish."
"I want her to have a nice pair of SHOES! You know how women are with
their shoes, and chances are we'll have a lot of walking to do. It's not
easy to find a comfortable pair of size 13 shoes you know!"
"And what if I refuse? You can't kill me if you wish me to make another
like you, you will be even more miserable than before. "
"Then I will make you in my image. I will fill death's maw with the
lives of your friends, until you also know the misery that I know. Then
I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!"
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 16)
And so, I was off to England, with Erwin tagging along for companionship,
although it was probably just an excuse for him to hit the singles bars.
After spending several weeks setting up my laboratory on the Cornish coast,
and enduring Erwin's requests for test driving the project that I was nearly
half-way through, it suddenly struck me.
I don't have a little dog!
I sent Erwin off to the singles bars under the ruse of gathering
more raw materials. With him safely out of the way, I proceeded to
destroy the hideous creation on my table. Once I finished destroying the
clay ashtray Erwin made in shops class, I gathered up the remains of the
unfinished bride. As I filled the bags up with miscellaneous body parts,
I started to worry whether they would be strong enough to get to the curb.
I paused over a pair of ruby slippers that I had purchase for the female
creature. They weren't particularly practical for walking, nor did they
seem to go with the outfit I had selected, but the price was too good to
pass up. I was about to toss them into the trash, when I saw a familiar
shadow on the wall. "Neat", I thought," if I turn them upside down it looks
like a pair of ducks." Then the door crashed in and Bob came storming into
the lab room.
"Turn your stereo down will you! some of us are trying to sleep."
He looked around the room and immediately sized up the situation.
"I asked you for a wife! There is no way I am going to marry that
old bag. You defy me at your peril, I will be with you on your wedding night!"
Then he stormed out of the room.
"The weather around here sure is unpredictable.", a man in the street said.
"Yeah, we had a heck of a storm last night, said his companion. Then they
both started to laugh hysterically. I ignored them and carried the bags to
my rowboat. I then set out to toss the bags into the middle of the sea.
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********************************************************************************
This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 17)
An unexpected storm arose. I had no idea where my boat was being tossed.
I hailed to a passing ship, the Guppy, I think it was, but to no avail.
In the morning I found myself beached on an unknown island. I tried to
summon help for myself, but everyone ignored me. "Oh No! I must have
landed in France!" I wandered in to town, which was a dreadful mistake,
all the chocolate bar prices were completely unreasonable. As I stood
wondering if they would ever make Wig-Wags again, a woman brought a police
officer over to see me and shouted:
"That's him that's the one I saw."
I was then dragged from the store and escorted to the local jail.
For many hours I waited there, confused at what had happened, until the
magistrate Kirward Derby appeared. He explained that the bag I thought
I had drowned in the ocean, had washed up on shore, and the woman from the
store identified me as the one who threw it into the water.
"We therefore have no choice but to charge you with the heinous crime ..."
"I didn't kill anyone", I screamed.
"Of course you didn't" the magistrate said, "but you did leave it on the beach,
and that qualifies as littering you know!"
I was about to thank him for teaching me a lesson when the jailer said:
"Maybe we should look inside anyway."
As they opened the bag I could not contain my surprise as Erwin's body
fell out."
"Surprise", I yelled.
This did not go over too well. From my jail cell I decided that this was
a good time to catch up on those letters home I was planning to write.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 18)
My father came to Ireland to get me. I was surprised that the letter home
had gotten there so quickly. I found out later that he had never received
a letter, he was taking me home to get married, and speed up the plot.
My father convinced the magistrate that Erwin was my friend and that
I did not understand the full meaning of throwing a wake for the deceased.
The Irish townsfolk were more then willing to help me out on that account.
A weeks worth of drinking later my father announced that we had to be leaving.
I made the mistake of mentioning my upcoming wedding and the celebrations
started up anew. Finally, we staggered back to Geneva.
It was a quick wedding, for the honeymoon Norma Jean had booked a quiet
motel off the main stretch, as I chatted with Norman, the owners son, I
overheard two other guests talking.
"Boy that's the biggest bellhop I've ever seen."
"Yeah and the ugliest!"
I realized in a moment who it was. The pine-tree scent that seemed to linger
everywhere should have aroused my suspicions earlier.
I burst into the room just as a scream rang out.
"Oops, sorry", I said "Wrong room".
I entered my motel room, only to find my bride lying dead. At the
window I could hear Bob laughing as he ran through the woods. I forced
back my grief and followed the trail over the river and through the woods.
He was easy to follow, since he had taken the mints from off the hotel pillow,
and left the wrappers where I could easily find them. For weeks the chase
continued, always north, I was exhausted and weakened but anger drove me on.
And now, I am here, where you have found me. If you have a pair of swimming
trunks, then I can continue my chase to the cold and bitter end. Boy telling
that story took more out of me then I thought. Just let me rest for a minute
and then I'll be on my way.
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This week, Sigfile Follies is running the big-screen adaption
of Mary Shelley's epic:
FrankEinstein
(Segment 19)
St. Petersberg, Dec. 18--
Mrs Barber
England
My dear sister,
With those last lines Doctor Frank Einstein closed his eyes for the last
time. I left for just a moment to take a whiz, and when I returned, I saw
the creature looming over his dead creator.
I was about to address him, when a man in uniform walked in on us.
"Excuse me, letter for Mister Frank Einstein. Are you Frank Einstein?"
"Right here", I said, pointing to the cot. "How did you manage to find
us though?"
"A sailor in St. Petersburg saw you get in the old man's boat, and assumed
you were still out here."
"But how did you know where HERE was?"
"I just followed the mooring rope. They don't allow him to cast off
the dock, or he'll get hopelessly lost at sea. You're only 10 minutes from
land, you know."
"Damn this fog.", I thought.
"Now, who wants the letter?"
"I'll sign for it" , Bob said, "Hey this was posted about 7 months ago!"
"Thanks Sir, we at Canada Post are proud of the improvements we are making
in efficiency and customer service."
"Hummph!" said Bob, and he passed the letter over for me to read
Ingolstadt May 18--
Dear Frank,
I hope classes are going well. Haven't seen you in the
longest time, so I thought I would write.
Say do you remember that crazy well we had back home?
I was thinking of it the other day when I ran into Count
Dirac at a seminar. He explained to me that the effect
of the delta well is to introduce a discontinuity in the
slope of the wavefunction at the well site, although the
wavefunction itself remains continuous there. He then
told me that it was your friend Erwin, who knew how the
thing worked. You rascal, all this time I was worried
about it, and you knew all along. Well, you always were
the smart one in the family. You know it's crazy, I was
even thinking of creating a superbeing to figure it out.
Pretty dumb of me, huh? Oh well see you soon.
Love Albert.
Then the creature spoke to me.
"The well is explained, I have no reason to worry about it any longer,
I can do as I please. Where once I brought sorrow to many, I can now
choose to bring happiness. I am going to become Bob Einstein, the
stunt man comedian!"
"Will you be any good?" I asked.
"I'll be super, Dave. Now if I can just think up a catchy name."
"When will we see you again?"
"We'll always have Telgte."
He sprung from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice-raft
which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves
and lost in darkness and distance.
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jeffcarrie@geocities.com