The Unnamed adventures of Roger Weaver

The Unnamed adventures of Roger Weaver

Chapter 4

     The Story The Authors
"Now," continued the Boar (pronounced in his native regions as 'Boa') "Allow me to instigate the commem'ration of this heah truce — ahem — between, if ah may be so bold as to draw the metaphoah — this heah treaty between, let us intimate, the Hatfields an' the M'Caws — with a dram or three from mah own prah-vit stock of Knob Creek bouhbon, as onleh gentlemen such as ou’se'ves may know an tru-leh appreciate the distinctive vuh-chewse theah-of..."
"Did you say bourbon, Mr. Boar?" gasped Roger.
"Whah, ah think we all have found a common lang-wage heah," chuckled the Boar, eyeing the Things for concurrence...

"A tipple would do us no harm!
Why, the mere mention makes us warm!
Still warmer, though, we'd like to be!

By this, you can plainly see:
We do not want it in a box,
We'd rather have it on the rocks!
But straight up, with a splash, will do — (Just don't tell JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo II...)

"Whal, ah guess thet jest abat sums it up, baws! A toast, then — to fellership an' commun'tay!"
"To fellowship and community! Hear, hear!"

...High above the foregoing, though, floating in his giant Pope-Head, it was too bad that the Cat in the Hat was so absorbed in setting up his new PlayStation as to relax his moral and behavioral vigilance over the goings-on down below — had he kept track of them, before the bourbon began to flow so freely, several tragedies later that day may have been averted...

High up in the top of the luminescent miter, the Cat in the literal Hat assisted the impossibly buxom Lara Croft in solving puzzles, shooting menacing animals and shimmying along crevices completely unaware that the Mr. Boar had just just poured the last drop of Bourbon into Thing Two's cup and was preparing to crack open another bottle.
"This heah was made from an old famluh recipe, passed down from genuh-ration tuh genuh-ration." said Mr. Boar as he removed the cork.

"We've never been the types to mooch,
But don't be stingey with that hooch!
It sure beats the hell and spam,
Out of that nasty green eggs and ham!
Soon the four were good and toasted and with all inhibitions laid to waste, Roger started telling dirty jokes.


"Okay, so this brunette, she's standing on some train tracks," said Roger, "And she's jumping from rail to rail, saying over and over again, 'Twenty-one, twenty-one, twenty-one.' So then this blonde walks up, sees her and decides to join her. The blonde also starts jumping from rail to rail, saying 'Twenty-one, twenty-one, twenty-one.' She looks at the brunette and says, 'Oh, I get it, fun!'
Suddenly, the brunette hears a train whistle, and she jumps off the tracks just as the blonde is splattered all over the place. The brunette goes back to jumping from rail to rail, counting, 'Twenty-two, twenty-two, twenty-two.' "

"Oh ah ha ha ha hoooeeeeeeeeee," spattered Boar, slopping bourbon down his dishevelled front. "Ah do declayah, ah ain't heard humah of so sophomoric a variety since mah days at LSU! Put 'er theah, boy — no, not yoah hand, son, yoah glass!"
Things One and Two stared dead straight ahead, pursing their lips and hiccuping, and it was a full five minutes (or seemed so, at least; they were none of them by that point in the festivities in any sort of intimacy with the Stream of Time...) before they managed to get anything out:

"Our rhyming faculties have drowned
In seas of bourbon guzzled down;
But struggling, thus, to be poetic;
We find your joke rude and pathetic!"

With which pronouncement they fell to the floor of the cave convulsed with hysterical tee-hee-hee giggles.

And as everyone knows, laughter is contagious and soon Roger and Boar were laughing convulsively and spilling their bourbon. The more they all laughed the louder they got and the sound echoed up into the cavern, soundwaves bouncing off the walls and ceiling until an enormous stalagtite vibrated loose. The Cat in the Hat's concentration was broken causing Lara Croft to fall into a lava pit and die which infuriated the tall furry one. He opened the miter window and stuck his head out to see what all the ruckus was about. But he would never find out. At that moment the giant stalagtite struck the giant pope head and brought it crashing to the ground in a great pile of shattered limestone and twisted metal. cuddles

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