Monthly Archives: May 2013
With the recent reunification of Mangoustan, things have been relatively quiet at the Federal Bureau of Foreign Culinary Relations. This has allowed us to catch up on some cold cases, such as the mystery of frozen snake gourd. It’s been nearly a year since we first started investigating this secretive serpentine vegetable, and in that time we discovered that it’s really quite unsuitable for eating. Even when sprinkled with cumin powder, it was quite bitter and rather slimy.
We were about to give up on this case altogether when we finally bothered to actually read the file. It turns out that the case had come from a secret didgeridoo cartel that operates from the basement of a Tim Hortons on Prince Edward Island. Their shipment of snake gourd had been hijacked by a group calling itself Le Société Serpent Végétal. Apparently, there’s a group of people who believe that the use of snake gourds to make didgeridoos is an egregious violation of snake-gourdian rights. For some reason, eating the snake gourd isn’t a problem. It’s just the making of didgeridoos that’s gets them riled up.
I suppose this all would have been very interesting last year, but we were busy with other obligations and we can’t drop everything to investigate the multitude of cases that come in to the FBFCR from various cartels on Prince Edward Island. For future reference, such complaints should be directed to the Royal Canadian Mounted Gourmands.
Anyway, sorry, secret didgeridoo cartel. I hope you eventually found your shipment of snake gourd. And you might want to relocate to a BeaverTails or something, since I think your cover has been blown.
Many food products claim to be wild and exciting. They lure the consumer with promises of unprecedented flavor combinations and impossibly amazing eating experiences. Orthodox Pomelo Tea, on the other hand, is perfectly content to be, well, orthodox. It’s not “extreme” or “outrageous” or “flavor-blasted”. It’s just perfectly ordinary pomelo tea in perfectly ordinary bags that come in a perfectly ordinary box.
There’s really not much to say about Orthodox Pomelo Tea, since it’s so completely orthodox. It has a bit of a citrus taste, which is the orthodox flavor of a pomelo. It also has some green tea flavor, since it contains green tea. This must be an orthodox addition to pomelo tea, since if it weren’t, this tea wouldn’t call itself orthodox.
We will return to our normal humorous style when we encounter something a little less orthodox.
Hello Readers. I’m back.
I apologize for my absence. To make up for it, I will give to you the account of my hiatus from writing, and how it ties to the story of Mr. Blick.
When we left off, Blick and I were flying towards West Mangoustan to meet a man called Jeeves, who would help us infiltrate East Mangoustan, and destroy the lab that the East Mangoustanis had been using to perform sick experiments on various organisms. That lab was responsible for Mr. Blick’s petroleum based state.
Anyhow, we eventually landed in West Mangoustan, where we met Jeeves at the airport. He took us back to the hotel, where we established our plan.
First, we had to get into East Mangoustan, which meant getting clearance with both East and West Mangoustani authorities. We decided that we should disguise ourselves as Canadian filmmakers making a movie in East Mangoustan, and calling the film Goar, but that somehow seemed like it had been done before, so we decided against it. Instead, Jeeves chimed in and said that he could just get travel permits made.
We agreed, eager to avoid any overcomplicated theatrics. Once we arrived in East Mangoustan, we would travel to the site of the lab, which was hidden underneath an abandoned soda manufacturing plant in the north of the country, count on finding some conveniently placed lab coats and badges, walk in, plant some cleverly disguised bombs, sneak in to the room where Blick was transformed, transform him back, run like hell, and then blow up the place. After that point, Jeeves would come with a helicopter he got from his East Mangoustani contact (who still needed to be asked about using his helicopter), and we would fly a safe distance away before waltzing out of the country the same way we came in using the same fake IDs.
So, we began with our plan. We successfully had fake IDs made, and, disguised as journalists, managed to make our way into East Mangoustan, with some minor bribery and non-lethal combat. Jeeves was able to drive us within a few miles of the lab, before driving back so he could talk to his friend about the helicopter.
Our first hiccup was the lack of conveniently placed lab coats within a few miles of our destination. So, with Mr. Blick in my pocket, covered myself with dust, and crawled, mile by mile, towards the plant. I was hoping that the guards stationed inside the abandoned factory wouldn’t see me, and the sensors placed in the ground would assume I was some sort of animal, and not worth sounding an alarm over. Eventually, I made it inside the abandoned plant. Using the pink whale bubble gun I had filled with a sedative, I was able to incapacitate a guard and put on his uniform and ID.
I walked around the facility until I found an out of place button with a barcode scanner on it. I looked at the ID I took and put it in front of the button. The button turned green, and I pressed it. A space opened up in front of me, with a ladder leading down inside of it. I tucked the guard’s hat far over my face, and climbed down.
Throughout the lab, I balanced putting explosive charges in trash cans and avoiding contact with security cameras or other people. After reading some signs in my broken Mangoustani, I made it to the plastics room.
It was empty, fortunately. I had Blick roll towards the machine used to turn him into a plastic man. He indicated to me what I should do to turn him back. It was at this point an imposing Mangoustani man in a suit and several armed guards arrived, said something along the lines of “we’re taking you to prison, FBFCR pig” and shot me with a tranquilizer dart.
I woke up the next day strapped to a cold bed in a dark, musty room. It was my prison cell. Guards would come in every once in a while to feed me and allow me the opportunity to walk around and use the restroom.
I spent the next couple months in that room. From what I gathered from hearing the guards talk, they hadn’t noticed Mr. Blick in the machine. I quietly hoped that he had figured out a way to transform himself and rescue me. I had to get back to writing after all. I also hoped that the explosives I put in the trashcan didn’t destroy some landfill somewhere.
One of my hopes was answered. I later found out that an entire landfill had been leveled for an unknown reason.
After two months, Blick, who had manage to turn himself into a human and disguise as a worker for two months, living at the lab while hatching a plan to get me out and destroy the lab.
I sat, tied into my chair, when I heard gunfire. After some forced negotiation, a guard opened up my door and untied me. Jeeves and Mr. Blick, now in the shape of a middle aged German man (he hadn’t aged while in plastic form), walked through the door and helped me up. They handed me a gun. I told them that we had to escape, and that their loud entrance didn’t leave any time to sabotage the lab.
Jeeves agreed. We both tried to convince Blick that we had to leave before the rest of the guards showed up. He told us that the generator for the whole facility was powered by some sort of highly explosive fluid, and he knew where the generator was.
There was no convincing him. He directed us towards the room with little resistance from the guards.
Eventually, we saw it. It pulsated a strange blue color. Or at least, what we could see of it did, as the rest of it was behind at least twenty guards. Blick shot first.
I fired a few shots, and then realized what shooting the generator would do. I turned to Jeeves and Blick to tell them that we really had to go. Blick was too enraged to hear me. Jeeves had a bullet in his head.
So, despite being weak and smelling like urine, I ran. Blick didn’t follow me. I managed to make it out in time to find a jeep (I guess some things are conveniently placed for action sequences after all), which I drove as far away as possible. I heard a boom, and then the entire facility blew up behind me. I broke the cardinal rule of action sequences and looked at it go up in flames. Blick, who must have been riddled with bullets, but even fuller of pride, anger, and adrenaline, managed to pierce the generator and ignite the whole facility.
I laid low around the country for a while. Eventually, when news of the generator collapse, which essentially caused the entirety of the small country to blackout and essentially destroyed the economy, hit the rest of the world, various special forces groups swept into the country and overthrew the dictatorship, uniting it with West Mangoustan. I went back with the American soldiers.
I came back to America, saddened at the lost of Jeeves and Blick, but happy to be home. Now, after months in captivity, a few bullet wounds, and some other issues, I write this to you. I guess we’ll need a new enemy to write about now.
So, if you’re a plastic game piece, remember that somewhere, there’s technology for you to become a human and commit massive amounts of manslaughter.