Now that my personal computer which doubles as my printing press for this here publication is back up and running proper again I can inform all you wonderful mass of readers of my trials and tribulations in the great state of Florida. Or I can scream like a mindless banshee into an empty room and tell my story. Either way, it’ll get told.
As I said before, my faithful assistant Rendered Posterior was gettin’ feedback from subscribers who said they’d like to see me leave the great area of Bell Bottom Creek and take on the wilds of somewhere else and if I lived to tell the tale, well then so be it. I gladly accepted the offer and waggoned myself, RP and Grizelda Jane out to the Sunshine State in search of the elusive and insidious rabid wrasslin’ croc. After much speculatin’ and arguin’ over where to set up camp, we picked a spot close to Disneyworld, a place Grizelda got all teary about seein’, and planned to go there to find our crocs.
Though it managed to rain everyday, we trudged through it and kept our eyes on the prize. The first day, we took the bus over to a Epcot. We found no crocs there, but managed to sink our teeth into some good eatin’ and visited many different places in the world within the walls of that one little park. Rendered Posterior gobbled up so many lime margaritas in Mexico, though, that he climbed all the palm trees and flung his extry large self down on poor, unsuspectin’ visitors, so we was throwed out with no success.
The second day, we headed over to the Magic Kingdom and Lord, did we ever hit paydirt with all those rides. For jest a moment, those rides took our minds off our main goal, but only for jest a moment. We saw many animals in the wilds of Africa, but still no crocs.
The next day brought us our biggest chance yet to spot the crocs — Animal Kingdom! We found a map and quickly pointed our areas that seemed like they’d give us the best chance to spot one of them fightin’ large lizards, so we split up and promised to meet back and share info if we found anything. Rendered Posterior quickly forgot his goal and beelined straight for the info desk to inquire about whiskey and goat cheese vendors, but Grizelda proved to be a little more helpful. She got sidetracked by several rides, but quickly hurried to my side when she spotted some evil lookin’ creatures confined up in little incubators. At first, she scared half the park when she claimed she’d spotted belly-crawlin’ dinos over at the north gate, but when I came over to investigate, I found the actual culprit to be not crocs, but gators. That figgers. Only in Floridy.
After three long days of adventure plus two more of drivin’, the weary travelers headed back to the Creek, bearin’ no real stories of croc wrasslin’, but plenty of other things to tell and memories that’ll last for a lifetime. Of course, fur yer delicate ears, I only included all the good parts and left out the many evils of three cantankerous old crazies travelin together in the small space of a wagon and needin’ to go the bathrooms at jest about every rest stop on the path.
On an unrelated note, I was so ahopin’ that Pastor Red J. Plumwood could be entertainin’ all of you with his sermons on his new revolutionary power pulpit he purchased so recently, but as our press has been down for so long, that didn’t happen.
I’ll open the opportunity back up to him real soon.
In the meantime, keep your eyes out for wrasslin’ crocs and if you ever need to reach me, jest drop a line.