Know, O Polliwogs, that there once existed a time, long before you wasted away your own lives in misplaced worry
and fruitless excess, from whence there sprang a race of beings known (somewhat ironically, in some cases) as the Bohemians. Clad in armor forged from the freezing winds of the remote Alaskan frontier, these Bohemians thrived in a time which, coincidentally, ran concurrently in the same general area as a certain recent vice-presidential loser. Whether their paths crossed hers at any given time is lost to the mists of time, and perhaps because of this, it was a time of youthful frivolity, though the blitheness of their manner was balanced overall with a passionate love and extraordinarily strong work ethic regarding the theatre. It was a time of staging fights in malls, skipping school in costume, and swiping towering piles of Pennysavers for no decent reason except to just do it. It was a time of hiding from people nicknamed Larry. It was a time of waving pots and pans at passing cars. Above all, it was a time of lounging on trampolines and rooftops drinking mass quantities of Dr. Pepper and Squirt.
Know, too, that there came to pass a day whereupon the Duke and Boogieman spent an afternoon doodling comics in the ill-fated tincan known to the Ancient Ones as Gibra Tar. It was during this period of complete absorption in the comic art of the primitive that their path was crossed by the third denizen of Gibra Tar, Nuncle, who was then goaded to seat his posterior 'pon the scuffed carpet and draw his little own 'seff. "But I can't draw!" he protested in vain, as he well knew he was almost entirely unable to defend himself against the peer pressure of his erstwhile pals unless engaged in some form of violent and physical Pupae War. "Sure you can!" they pressed him, "anyone can draw!"
And it came to pass from this goading that Nuncle quoth, "I can draw a werewolf." And from his pen burst a very fine werewolf indeed. "It looks sort of like an Eskimo, though." And following the drawing of his very fine Eskimo Werewolf, Nuncle did spew forth from his pwoffel, in succession, a seemingly angry bunny (complete with seemingly angry carrot), a panting hound dog of indeterminate heritage, and some form of demonic walrus with horns atop his head that serve as electrodes that seem to grant the walrus the very powers of Zeus. But Nuncle was not yet done for the afternoon. Then drawing a Tyrannosaurus Rex on his own drawing pad, the Boogieman then pressed Nuncle to try his hand at the art of the dinosaur. Flipping over his 4" x 6" piece of scratch paper, Nuncle knocked out an endearing version of a Rex himself, which pleased Boog greatly.
And though the Eskimo Werewolf would go on to a grand career as the growling and roaring herald of Bohemian birthdays for many years hence, it seemed that this important piece of Bohemian history would have been lost forever were it not so that a certain member of that trio was an unabashed pack-rat. Recent excavation into several layers of compacted notepaper has resurrected this important relic so it may be seen by generations of Bohemians henceforth.
And thus, it is with great pride that I, Kir, the Keeper of the Histories, offer up the Scribblings of the Nuncle as the inaugural piece of the Bohemian Artifact Wing on The Cinema 4 Pylon. It is for the sake of us all that we Learn, Review and Understand.
and fruitless excess, from whence there sprang a race of beings known (somewhat ironically, in some cases) as the Bohemians. Clad in armor forged from the freezing winds of the remote Alaskan frontier, these Bohemians thrived in a time which, coincidentally, ran concurrently in the same general area as a certain recent vice-presidential loser. Whether their paths crossed hers at any given time is lost to the mists of time, and perhaps because of this, it was a time of youthful frivolity, though the blitheness of their manner was balanced overall with a passionate love and extraordinarily strong work ethic regarding the theatre. It was a time of staging fights in malls, skipping school in costume, and swiping towering piles of Pennysavers for no decent reason except to just do it. It was a time of hiding from people nicknamed Larry. It was a time of waving pots and pans at passing cars. Above all, it was a time of lounging on trampolines and rooftops drinking mass quantities of Dr. Pepper and Squirt.Know, too, that there came to pass a day whereupon the Duke and Boogieman spent an afternoon doodling comics in the ill-fated tincan known to the Ancient Ones as Gibra Tar. It was during this period of complete absorption in the comic art of the primitive that their path was crossed by the third denizen of Gibra Tar, Nuncle, who was then goaded to seat his posterior 'pon the scuffed carpet and draw his little own 'seff. "But I can't draw!" he protested in vain, as he well knew he was almost entirely unable to defend himself against the peer pressure of his erstwhile pals unless engaged in some form of violent and physical Pupae War. "Sure you can!" they pressed him, "anyone can draw!"
And it came to pass from this goading that Nuncle quoth, "I can draw a werewolf." And from his pen burst a very fine werewolf indeed. "It looks sort of like an Eskimo, though." And following the drawing of his very fine Eskimo Werewolf, Nuncle did spew forth from his pwoffel, in succession, a seemingly angry bunny (complete with seemingly angry carrot), a panting hound dog of indeterminate heritage, and some form of demonic walrus with horns atop his head that serve as electrodes that seem to grant the walrus the very powers of Zeus. But Nuncle was not yet done for the afternoon. Then drawing a Tyrannosaurus Rex on his own drawing pad, the Boogieman then pressed Nuncle to try his hand at the art of the dinosaur. Flipping over his 4" x 6" piece of scratch paper, Nuncle knocked out an endearing version of a Rex himself, which pleased Boog greatly.
And though the Eskimo Werewolf would go on to a grand career as the growling and roaring herald of Bohemian birthdays for many years hence, it seemed that this important piece of Bohemian history would have been lost forever were it not so that a certain member of that trio was an unabashed pack-rat. Recent excavation into several layers of compacted notepaper has resurrected this important relic so it may be seen by generations of Bohemians henceforth.
And thus, it is with great pride that I, Kir, the Keeper of the Histories, offer up the Scribblings of the Nuncle as the inaugural piece of the Bohemian Artifact Wing on The Cinema 4 Pylon. It is for the sake of us all that we Learn, Review and Understand.
4 comments:
Yes. Indeed.
As it is written, so mote it be
Sweet, sweet, sweetness.
But why does the rex have two pieces of bacon hovering in front of it's chest?
I. Am. In. Awe.
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