So, for all of you who come on here to see how great I'm doing I'll share some great moments from this morning and then warn you to vacate the internet when I reach the real S*%t that I know you don't want to hear. The only reason I'll post it is because I am a firm believer in people laughing at other people's (albeit small and insubstantial; no horrible disfigurement laughs held here) pain and sorrow....
Chaptyr the Fyrst
Thou Knycht Arisen Unscaethed:
the early days
'Twas early upon the mornin'
Just before thou roseth to travel,
Up cometh thou alarmed clock,
And likewise loude dog's howl.
Thou foremost produced mine toaster,
and then produced mine butter,
Sayeth, "toast ye must deliver,
For ye been a brazen nourisher!"
Well Sharyngl doodl da,
Whack fol tha dally-o
Whack fol tha dally-o
There's cinn'mon in thine jar!
Thou spreadest out thine butter,
Like quiteth the toast herder,
For lookin' in Thine pantry,
Discover'd cinn'mon sugar!
Thou went out from thine chamber's,
For heedin rock's sweet callin'
Thou hiketh up yonder knoll,
For Thy storm it had yet fallin!
Well Sharyngl doodl da,
Whack fol tha dally-o
Whack fol tha dally-o
Thy sun is in thine hair!
Upon returning from knychtly advenures, our young hero finds a dispatch from Dearest Mother. It readeth as such, "Thine Knychtly Son, thou be'est so dystant from Thine own homeland and yet Thy will was strength enough to DHL a parcel so great that it will undoubtedly raiseth thou trubyld spirits to the far reaches of the Kingdom of Heaven. Wield thou noblest of weapons yet again and reclaim thou mightyest of vantages upon the face of dystant mountyns." Our young hero finds his strength again returned, able once again to mount his four wheeled steed upon the moust steep'st terrain Beelzebub had ever conjur'd upon the material world. He would once again brazenly shout, "A man, Thou knowest not who, has verrily sped off without firmly securing the portcullis
!" Oh, what jesterly remarks our young hero maketh. Life seemeth full of excitement and gaiety, for the young knycht had yet learneth to beware the ill tidings of such days....
End of Chaptyr the Fyrst
(Editor's note: While very hard to decipher this text due to it's intriguing use of multiple stages of ungrammatical Olde English, we can learn quite a lot. Scholars agree that the story is indeed true and such a knight did in fact exist. Apparently he awoke to eat "cinnamon-sugar toast" a meal which has undoubtedly been lost to the years. Once nourished, he left his residence to walk in mountains and climb their boulders, a feat undoubtedly grand and well liked by such knights of the time. Upon returning to his residence he received news of an impending shipment, through such courier service as existed at the time: "DHL", which contains such ancient weapons as to be thought relics of a dark age: skateboards, leather gloves with "pucks", a slippery material, attached at the palm, and a rope. We must note the ominous tones that the author has included, warning all readers with any sense of decency to Stop Reading NOW! The editor cannot urge you to heed this warning enough, scenes of graphic gore and dismal conditions are to follow.)
Chaptyr the Secund
Thou Knycht's Defeat:
Embrace of the Ceramics
Our Knycht, with spirits truly raised, partook of a fine meal of hen's eggs and a most sweet nectar: Saulsa. He then prepared hisself in body and mynd for the tryals and tribulations of the eve'ning. He chose his finest doublet and hose and dressed in privacy before once again heading forth upon his feet, not yet knowing yet the cruel and paynful events that layeth in hiding...
Striding into the training grounds galliantly, this young master spoketh good tydings in native tongues to his fellow comrades. He raised their hearts with friendly salutations such as, "anneonghaseyo!" and "anneonghashipnida!" while parading forth unto his chosen field of training. His first few lectyures were heartily accepted by his young squires of the world. But not all was well with our fine hero...
Upon returning to the planning booth with his comrades in arms, Our Knycht received a most startling carrier pigeon. The Duke of his newly adopted homeland had intercepted his Dearest Mother's plans for safe transport of his dearly needed supplies! The dispatch spoke as follows: "Young knave, we know what it is your Brood is planning. Thy Sheriff will undoubtedly be sent forth to levy a ransom from you. The price of such weapons passing into our domain unmolested shall be as follows: Signature of good nature at time of ransoming and a ransom of 800,000 golden coins (Editor's note: This appears to be around $80 by modern times reasoning). Unless said ransom is payed, your supplies will fall to the people of Thy office."
Oh! Our young knycht was heartbroken to learn of such tragic occurences. He would sorely mourn the lost money so needed to fill his body with life. But, He could do nothing but agree to such terms after the care that his Dear Mother and Devoted Lover had taken to procure such Godly gifts...
Leaving the planning room, our betrampled hero headed slowly to his next lectyure. The squires waited dutifully for him to begin the lesson, but the knycht was ambushed! While reading the dispatch from the Duke, a serpent appeared and struck our poor hero to the ground! The knycht sprinted to the Wizard of Ceramics' Bowl of Healing, but all was too late. Our young hero fell to his knees as the poison took effect and he proceeded to regurgitate all nourishment that had been imbued upon him by the Giving-Hens.
Now, our young hero had but two choices: To fall dead and defeated upon the cold earth of the Wizard's room, or Arise! and retake the day with fortytude and vigor! To do battle with the serpent's poison until his work was finished!
He cleaned himself as well he could and proceeded to the lectyure field. His squires noted his tardiness but readily produced their will to learn. Oh! Our beloved hero knew not was the poison was disrupting within his body. For soon after, he sprang without warning to yonder Wizard's chamber and removed his hose with speed! He sat upon the Seat of Thinking and from his stately body eschewed such a flow of poisonous liquid as to deem second clearance of the seat and multiple bandages for his disheveled body.
Thinking all was over, the knycht returned to his preordained lectyure, finishing it with an unease not known to him yet in such a foreign land. All proceedeth as normal, yet during his next lectyure twice he was removed from his podium of truth to reclaim his hold upon the Seat of Thinking! Such drain on his body began to take its toll. The knycht was shaky in stride and hand. He appeared pale in flesh, almost to the point of ghostly appearance. And yet, he informed his comrades of his problems and received no help or relief of duty! His next lectyure found him once again within the confines of the Seat of Thinking, but alas! All bandages had been taken from the Wizard by the squires in training! He located a last, tattered piece of bandage, just enough to remove most of the gore from his sopping backside, whilst he wandered in search of help.
When our hero's comrades did find him they asked of his condition. He had no choice but to stand and explain that the bandages had been misused and that he was in risk of contaminating not only his hose, but also the sacred planning booth all good knychts must share! An angel of a comrade at once began a search for bandages and procured some from a hiding place to which was offered to the knycht. Our hero immediately returned to the Seat of Thinking for yet more torrential slaughter of the poison's effect. With new bandages our hero was able to clean the last of the gore from his heinous body and return to the lectyure: shaky, famished, and without completely clean hose...
After delivering his final lectyure, our hero returned to his humble lodgings to clean his body and clothes. Left alone to recuperate, he sat alone with his thoughts and dreamed of a better place.
End of Chaptyr the Secund
(Editor's note: It appears as if the antagonist received a message that his package was being ransomed by the government of his newly accepted country. He agreed to pay the ransom, but afterwards, he received a most terrible bout of vomiting and diarrhea while teaching his students. He repeatedly leaves the class only to, from what we can assume, spew fecal material all over the toilet. At one point he appears to run out of, what modern day similarity we can afford, toilet paper. At which point he uses a last shred to wipe his buttocks, unable to completely clean his anus before reclothing himself. His friend then procures him another roll of toilet paper, of which he uses almost completely during his next few hours. After his class teachings, he returns home and cleans himself. A common remedy for such "poison" in those days was a hearty dose of a medicine called "Pepto Bismol" While it appears that the young hero of this story did indeed live, further proof of his adventures have yet to be found.
So yeah, I basically diarrhead in my pants today during work and ran out of toilet paper at one point. Luckily my korean co-teacher knew where the extras were kept and gave me a role... which I used almost completely... Know I'm on the path to rehydration and rest...
