Back in December of 1831, I was watching TV with my best friend Charlie Darwin, when out of the blue, he says
"I say Old Sport, I'm off to the Go Gos (Galapagos) to prove that Johnny Lamarck is a complete arse! Care to join me?"
To which I replied,"Meh, whatever..pass the chips. I should think that fumbling about that bloody pile of rocks in the middle of bloody nowhere with those ghastly Iguanas snorting salt out of their nostrils would be impossibly tedious?
Quite frankly I'd rather have needles poked in my eyes!"
He then slyly remarked,
"Really? I've asked Penelope to my Ornithologist on the Expedition.
Care to reconsider?"
He knew damn well that I was madly in love with Pinkbitz. She was as beautiful as she was brilliant and I lovingly referred to her as my Darling Hornythologist.
"Alighty then, I suppose that I shall be your Ichthyologist.
I shall start packing as soon as we finish watching Season 3 of Arrested Devlopment!"
So off we went to the Go Gos and for Peneolpe and myself it was Paradise. However, it soon became apparent to Charlie, that Penelope and I were spending far too much time in flagrante delict-ooooh! and were remiss in our scientificky duties.
We were studying reproduction alright...
wherever and whenever we could!
Unfortunately poor Charlie had had enough. Since the crew had lived on Finch and Chimps for almost five years he suggested that the two of us go fishing together so that we could dine on a feast of Lobster before we departed.
I held Penelope in my arms and gently whispered,
"See you later Sweet Potater!"
I had no idea that this would be the last time that I would hold Pinkbitz in my arms.
Charlie and I then spent a brilliant afternoon collecting Lobster and despite his nattering about my acting like a "bloooody mink on amphetamines",
we patched up our friendship and were just heading in to shore when a statistically improbable incident occured.
A huge bloody White rammed our boat and I was thrown into the mercy of the Deep Blue Sea.
Charlie's last words to me were,
"Sit down you bloody fool!"
What happened from this point forward is almost too fantastical to believe..but from what I have pieced together..
Apparently I drifted South to Antarctica whilst propped upon remnants of the boat and was subsequently washed ashore.
There I remained until 1907 when a drunken Sailor out taking a whizz noticed that my head had been exposed and that Blue Footed Boobies were making a nest in my beard..
Boobies always reminds me of Penelope (sigh).
Where was I? Oh Yes.
My head was chipped out of my icy tomb, lazy bastards, unceremoniously tossed into the ship's hold with all of the frozen fish, and carted off to the Colonies.
I was sold to the Smithsonian and there I remained until 1966 when my still frozen head was purchased by a Cryogenics firm in California.
I had the unbelievable misfortune to be preserved next to the Clinic's most recent customer. Walt Disney.
For three months I heard him humming It's a Small World.
You cannot possibly imagine how annoying that was.
Hm hm hm hm hmmmmmmmmmm hm hm
Hm hm hm hm hmmmmmmmmmmmm hm hm
HM HM HM HM HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM HM HM
hm hm hm
Finally Dr Shivers was kind enough to unplug Disney's bloody bin and good bloody riddance I say! He then arranged to have my head sewn unto a suitable donor.
It took a while for my memories to return but eventually they did. It was now 1975 and when I started telling people about my memories I was captured in a large butterfly net, clinically diagnosed as a certified nutjob, and tossed into the Looney Bin.
There I met the indomitable Randall McMurphy who ignominiously treated to a free Lobotomy. I myself narrowly escaped the same fate but narrowly managed to flee from that horrid,wretched, place when Chief Bromden threw a water fountain through a barred window.
That's enough for today. Bono and Gates are coming over for Lunch and I simply must finish making Cucumber Sandwiches.