LL-L "Literature" 2007.05.06 (03) [E]

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L O W L A N D S - L  -  05 May 2007 - Volume 03

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From: Paul Finlow-Bates <wolf_thunder51 at yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2007.05.05 (07) [E]

A poor cobbler was working away at his shoemaking and happened to glance up
out of the window as a senior officer from the local army base was stepping
onto the road.  At that moment, a huge truck came round the corner and
struck the military man, running straight over him.  The poor soldier was
completely flattened.

Now, given the location, the cobbler has seen many such accidents, often
involving military personnel of fairly high rank.  It had never really
bothered him, he didn't even like the military.  But something about this
incident moved him to shed a tear.

You could say, it was Shoe-man's First Sympathy in A Flat Major.

Paul Finlow-Bates

----------

From: Sandy Fleming <sandy at scotstext.org>
Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2007.05.05 (07) [E]

> From: Global Moose Translations <globalmoose at t-online.de>
> Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2007.05.05 (04) [E]
>
> Mark Dreyer wrote:
> >By the way, My Ruth holds that shaggy stories are waste of brain
> space, & we should desist:
> >Forthwith. so, I shall spare you all the delights of the doings of
> Wally & Goppy, & Tarzant,
> >& the Dread Mystery of the Monk.
>
> Oh, I am completely with Your Ruth on that one!! When people take that
> long to tell a story, it had better be a good one.
>
> Gabriele Kahn

Surely the whole point is to raise everybody's expectations with the
sheer length of the story, then leave them lying in a heap at the end?
Serves them right for listening  :)

We're still waiting to hear about this Monk, Mark!

There's also a kind of story that I associate with Appalachian, that
seems to hold all sorts of strange and interesting impossibilities ("it
was so cold the flames froze solid" and suchlike). Is this what they
mean by a Tall Tale?

Sandy Fleming
http://scotstext.org/

----------

From: Wesley Parish <wes.parish at paradise.net.nz>
Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2007.05.05 (01) [E]

How's this for a totally pointless yarn?

There was, it would appear, a very very rich young man with nothing much to
do.  And one day while he was whiling away his days by roaming the world, he
drove his Rolls Royce along a twisty Andes road, where he saw a signpost
declaring that here was the only place where authentic Kadinkadonka machines
were manufactured.

He'd never heard of Kadinkadonka machines before, so he decided to find out
what they were, drove up to the front door, entered and asked to see the
proprietor.

"I'll take the very best Kadinkadonka machine you can make," he said.  "I
need
something special."

"Okay, we need a deposit of ... about seven million dollars, and come back
in
about four years" said the proprietor.  The rich young man paid without
complaint.

In four years he was back.  "We're sorry, but with the rising petrol prices,
we haven't been able to get some components," said the proprietor,  "We'll
need another twenty million, thanks, and come back in about six years."

In six years he was back.  "We've encountered a shortfall," the proprietor
said, "and so we aren't finished yet.  If you pay us another eighty million
and come back in about ten years, we should have it finished."

The young man paid up, wondering what he was getting, but was reminded that
he
had asked for the very best Kadinkadonka machine they could make, so was
getting precisely that.

In ten years he was back.  He'd married in the meantime, and had brought his
bride to show off to the Kadinkadonka machine proprietor, and to show off
his
Kadinkadonka machine to his bride.

The proprietor wrung his hands.  "We had to roll back a good part of the
work," he explained.  "Some parts we had made overseas just weren't up to
scratch.  but we estimate that with an additional ... say ... a spare two
billion, we'll finally have it done in twenty years."

Twenty years pass, and the young man, no longer young, and without his wife
-
they divorced somewhat amicably - and with a few aches and pains and limps
that came with his age, turned up to see what he had bought.  The proprietor
greeted him like a long-lost brother, enveloped him in a bear hug and wiping
the tears from his eyes, said rapturously, "We finally finished the job.
 You
have got to see it!"

So he leads the rich man into this long, twisting, turning passageway, which
eventually, after going a mile underground, finally surfaces near this vast
tower.  The proprietor takes him inside this tower and they go up this wide
staircase.

Up they go; up and up and up.  After a week the rich man wonders where they
are; the proprietor shows him the view from a window.  Another week, and the
rich man is wheezing from all this unexpected exertion.  the proprietor
gives
him an oxygen mask.  another week, and the wide staircase has narrowed
somewhat.

Another week and they reach this little room, with this chair and this desk.

"Now you will see the Kadinkadonka machine working," the proprietor
said.  "Just don't sit on the staircase, would you.  You're not supposed to
do that."

He goes to the desk, opens the draw and takes out a marble, takes it to the
top step of the staircase then flicks it off.

The rich man hears it rolling down the staircase,
ka-dinka-donka-dinka-donka-dinka-donka-dinka-donka-dinka-donka ...

Then there's the Viper story:

A housewife gets a disturbing call one day.  A foreign male voice says, "I
am
viper, lady.  In four days I come."  Then a click.

She tells her husband.  And sure enough, when he stays back from work, they
hear a phone call, with the message, "I am viper, lady.  In three days I
come."

He hangs up.  And the phone call can't be traced.

So they go to the police.  And they come around to listen, and sure enough,
the phone rings, and the same male voice says, "I am viper, lady.  In two
days I come."

The next day is spent deciding how to react.  The police call up the local
Defense - Territorials, National Guard or whatever, and they turn out in
force.  The same male voice rings her and says, again, "I am viper, lady.
 In
one day I come."

Finally the day dawns, and everybody is on tenterhooks, the Defense force
looking down their rifles every which way, the police looking around and
leaving no stone unturned, the woman and her husband waiting by the door in
their apartment with an assortment of rudimentary weapons of various types
at
hand.

A little car moseys up the drive, a short guy gets out, and knocks on the
door.  The husband opens the door, and the short guy says, "I am viper.
 Have
you any vindows you vant viped?"

The End.

For some strange reason kids seem to love them.  I heard them as a kid in
Yarralumla Primary, Canberra.

Wesley Parish

•

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