In the year of somebody's Lord, 1875, on the 4th of February Fez and I were on our way to that wretched cesspit full of reeking cheese-eaters that shall not be named on a matter of principle. That principle being, I am quite sure this journal would burst into holy flames as the Lord would condemn it. Now, as I said, we were on our way to that place that a good friend of mine, though rather he was more in a different social circle than I, perhaps better described as a loose acquaintance, was in need of a special salve only available there in order to treat a rather nasty hemorrhoid. Almost before we had set foot on the filthy, filthy docks of the port, we were assaulted by someone I at first took for a madman. Of course, I first mistook my good friend Fez as one who was touched in the head, and once again, it was he who proved me wrong about my initial perceptions.
"Monocle, my dear man," he spake, placing his hand upon my chest and pressuring me to remove my fist from the stranger's trachea. "Remember when you thought I took ill on our journey to Shangri La? The fever dream I had as a result of drinking your strange concoction of lantern oil and some blue fungus you found under a rock? This is him!"
"Oh," I answered, somewhat put off as I released the fellow, letting him drop, gasping to the dock that stank of wine and cheese and unshaven women. When he had regained his breath, and his wits, the man stood up and dusted himself off before holding a letter out for me to take. When he opened his mouth to speak, I heard nothing but strange noises made in his throat as a wave of the most horrid stench washed my face. With a swift maneuver that Fez assured me would come to be called a 'Round-House Kick,' I sent him into the drink and watched as he dissolved, apparently having been held together by a water-soluble compound, such as filth, as I had expected. Taking out my handkerchief, I reached down and picked up the letter carefully, holding it up for Fez's inspection.
"My word," he said, grabbing a near by urchin and using him to gain some height that he might read the letter's envelope from a position where there was light, a difficult thing to find in such squalor, even if we were still on the docks. "Monocle, my dear man, I do believe that this is a letter from the Queen Victoria of England herself!"
While he got back down from the urchin and threw the now useless wretch into the bay to dissolve with his contemporary, I took the letter carefully and made my way back on to the ship, that I might read it without sullying the Queen's handwriting with the filthy air. Safely back in the cabin, we both read the letter and were shocked to find that the Queen of England had heard of our exploits in a few short years of working together and required our unique insight on the Empire's latest project. It was something that might increase the value of Great Britain untold amounts, something that would transform the British nation in to a super power to be feared and respected across the globe. Queen Victoria planned to send a crack team of miners and her finest scientists on an expedition like no other!
The Queen planned to mine for gold, in the heart of the Sun!
"Monocle, my dear man," he spake, placing his hand upon my chest and pressuring me to remove my fist from the stranger's trachea. "Remember when you thought I took ill on our journey to Shangri La? The fever dream I had as a result of drinking your strange concoction of lantern oil and some blue fungus you found under a rock? This is him!"
"Oh," I answered, somewhat put off as I released the fellow, letting him drop, gasping to the dock that stank of wine and cheese and unshaven women. When he had regained his breath, and his wits, the man stood up and dusted himself off before holding a letter out for me to take. When he opened his mouth to speak, I heard nothing but strange noises made in his throat as a wave of the most horrid stench washed my face. With a swift maneuver that Fez assured me would come to be called a 'Round-House Kick,' I sent him into the drink and watched as he dissolved, apparently having been held together by a water-soluble compound, such as filth, as I had expected. Taking out my handkerchief, I reached down and picked up the letter carefully, holding it up for Fez's inspection.
"My word," he said, grabbing a near by urchin and using him to gain some height that he might read the letter's envelope from a position where there was light, a difficult thing to find in such squalor, even if we were still on the docks. "Monocle, my dear man, I do believe that this is a letter from the Queen Victoria of England herself!"
While he got back down from the urchin and threw the now useless wretch into the bay to dissolve with his contemporary, I took the letter carefully and made my way back on to the ship, that I might read it without sullying the Queen's handwriting with the filthy air. Safely back in the cabin, we both read the letter and were shocked to find that the Queen of England had heard of our exploits in a few short years of working together and required our unique insight on the Empire's latest project. It was something that might increase the value of Great Britain untold amounts, something that would transform the British nation in to a super power to be feared and respected across the globe. Queen Victoria planned to send a crack team of miners and her finest scientists on an expedition like no other!
The Queen planned to mine for gold, in the heart of the Sun!
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