To the Esteemed Members of the Benevolent Society for the Propagation of Assorted Tomfoolery and Other Such Peculiar and Otherwise Absurd and Baffling Nonsense,
I am writing to you, fellow enthusiasts of whimsy, hijinks, and general good-natured absurdity, with a concern so pressing and timely that it could not, in good conscience, ……. “What was that? … … … “They’ve already been told? errrrrm…I’m sure you’re aware that Halloween draws nearer, and with it, the peculiar rattle of spirits, the rustle of invisible feet, and—oh, wouldn’t you know it—the faint but insistent stirrings of elaborate schemes waiting to come to fruition. The time, I daresay, is ripe. Despite what one would expect from all the preparatory antics and seasonal festivity, we have a rather severe predicament: The Wizard of Oz is still being held captive by the Witch! Given the unfortunate imprisonment of our friend the Wizard, I hereby humbly suggest that we take drastic action to liberate him. I believe that no fewer than three accordions, four unicycles, and one massive papier-mâché goose should suffice for the job. An interpretive dance rendered by kazoos, that might also prove invaluable. Perhaps a rubber chicken, I think I have one lying around this vast shed somewhere… Crash! Bang! “OW!” Perhaps this is not the best plan. If anyone has a hot air balloon blueprint plan perchanceeeee.
No not the fucking moosehead! I’m sorry ive had an unfortunate moosident.
Oh my!
What in the dear gregory gregory!
What is this?
A message floating over on the soundwaves of zoomst’s show erev halloween! OWWWW! It is hot! AiR! Baouwwwwloooonnnn!
I shall read it to you I suppose, although I have no clue of its whereabouts:
Still reeling from the Queen Bee incident my mind is still buzzing from that delightful poppy field. But now that I’m holding these crystal balls in my hands—three of them, cool and smooth, like they’ve grown from the air itself. I toss them up, one after another, and suddenly I’m lost in the rhythm. Each throw feels like its own tiny orbit, each catch this cosmic collision in my hands. I’m juggling with the whole universe humming through my fingers, feeling like I’ve got some ancient, elemental energy surging through me. I look up, and the balls glow in strange shades I don’t even have names for, trailing faint ribbons of light in the air. A tornado of pure light. The forest that seems to pulse with a heartbeat all its own. The trees sway and bend, whispering secrets in voices I can almost understand. Each leaf seems to vibrate with light, each twig crackling with some electric pulse of magic. The world around me has turned hazy and soft, but everything’s so alive, the colors I can hear and sounds I can see—everything mixing together, swirling around in endless l…those cursed flying monkeys! They’re flapping around like shadowy whirlwinds, grinning with these razor-sharp teeth that glint in the dappled light. Their wings beat a tempo that seeps into the rhythm of my juggling, twisting it, pulling it apart. Their eyes lock onto me, and they’re not just watching—they’re piercing through me, each one a little burning coal set against the vivid, breathing green of the forest. I keep going, letting each throw ride some invisible current, floating higher and higher, watching as the balls blur and spin and almost melt into the forest’s rhythm. The trees lean in, branches weaving in slow, graceful arcs joining the act. Vines twitch, roots twist. the whole forest is watching, holding its breath. monkeys…everywhere, swarming in circles, screeching and chittering. their laughter all around, a maddening cackle that burrows into my skull. It’s like they’re rooting for me to drop, to stumble, to give in. And the air around me thickens, turning heavy with this buzzing energy, and I’m fighting to stay in sync, the crystal balls slipping and spinning in my hands. I toss one a little too high, and one of the monkeys swoops down, snatching it mid-air with a triumphant shriek. the ball glints in its clawed hand, a tiny prism of light shattering into pieces as they toss it among themselves, a mocking, twisted version of my own juggling. The real. The scientific. The practical absurd. My head feels like it’s swimming, floating in some slow-motion whirlpool of colors and sounds that I can’t shake free from. The forest starts warping, bending, the trees curling in, the branches clawing at me like skeletal fingers. The earth beneath my feet sways and shifts, breathing in strange waves that rise and fall, like I’m standing on the back of some enormous, slumbering creature. The monkeys coming, closing in, eyes gleaming with that sharp, menacing light. My arms feel heavy, each toss slower than the last, the rhythm slipping, unraveling as the forest itself seems to close in around me. The leaves rustle in laughter, the branches clap in time with the monkeys’ cackles. The air thickens into a suffocating blanket of green, buzzing with life but pressing in on me, closing off every escape.The last ball slips from my fingers. I reach out to catch it, but it’s already gone, plucked out of the air by a dozen dark wings, the monkeys spiraling up and away with their spoils, cackling in twisted victory. I stumble back, the ground itself seeming to pull at me, soft and hungry, until I collapse onto the forest floor, watching helplessly as the monkeys take me into the canopy, my crystal balls glinting faintly as they vanish into the dirt. each breath in tune with the pulse of the earth beneath me. The pulse? It sounds like a sunrise, a whadidodis? I focas on it. Did it come through? I hope someone comes looking… The trees sway and shimmer, the colors bleed into one another, and I feel the whole forest breathing around me, a dizzy, endless dance of shadows and light that sweeps me under, pulling me down, down into its strange depths.
Wow! That is not what I was expecting. Cough Pough, pahem. Plunged into profound, pulsating purple, pause, paralyzed, peering past pulsing plants, pondering peculiarities. Peculiar perceptions persist, patterns pirouetting, painting passages, pathways paved in perplexity. Peculiar primates—previously present—poof! Poof!—perished! Predators? Perhaps? Perspiring, palms pressing packed peat.
NO, NO
Jubilant jugglers join jittering jungles, jostling jets of joy, juggling jades…
Ji jill jee jou jon jhe jecound jof jojember. Je jhere jor je jound. Ji jope jose jove jho jhat jent jo joomst jenjoyed jhem jelves.