This is a letter I received from someone who I had previously not met, an individual that goes by the name of Mr. Tiberius Medusa Blick.
Hello. You do not know me, nor do I know you. However, I have heard of you and your culinary and literary exploits.
My name is Mr. Tiberius Medusa Blick, and I am in dire need of assistance. You see, my name used to just be Tiberius Blick, but that was quite a long time ago now. I’ll explain that shortly.
Now, as you see from the package I enclosed with this letter, I am a hard plastic bean. I haven’t always been, but that is my current form. Back when my name was simply Mr. Tiberius Blick, I lived in Germany. Not recently, though. I lived in a Germany your grandparents saw as an enemy. However, I did not support this enemy.
If you can’t tell, I lived in World War II Germany. I was born in 1926 in Berlin, and I escaped the draft during the war due to my flat feet. This allowed me to take a passively antagonistic role to the Third Reich.
Before long, war, which I had survived, was over and Germany was split into two halves divided by the Berlin wall. I, much to my dismay, ended up in East Germany. I took on the same role as I did in Nazi Germany; never overtly doing anything but privately decrying the land where I lived and government that ruled over me. I knew I had to do something though, and eventually, I got an idea. I was a gymnast as a child, and retained some of my skill. I knew that one way to get closer to the government was to take advantage of this in the forthcoming Olympic games.
I was smart, and I knew that the East Germans weren’t being honest about the makeup of their teams. So, under a rather poor disguise as a woman, since I knew the East Germans didn’t care that there were men on their female teams, I tried out for the woman’s East German Olympic gymnastics team, and I was made a part of the team. At various functions and training sessions and publicity meetings I got close to various key figures and attempted to learn how the government could be overthrown. None of them were privy to my true intentions, so I continued my plot. I attended the next several games on the East German Women’s Gymnastics Team under the name Tiberia Blick. I made sure to not do well in as many events as possible so as to keep my name unpublicized.
By the time I was too old to compete, I had acquired a list of officials, actions, inner dealings, and general information that could be used to get rid of the government. Although I was not responsible for the actual destruction of the Berlin Wall, I had made numerous attempts to overthrow the government through manipulating government and through the symbolic destruction of the wall, though none were successful. I was never caught nor associated with the acts due to my former position on the team and my association with key political figures. That is, until my final attempt. I was caught attempting to kidnap a minor government official and sent to prison without trial. However, instead of executing me, the East Germans had a better idea.
They had recently struck an allegiance with a fledgling country called East Mangoustan (which I’m sure you’ve heard of). The East Mangoustanis were specialists in torture and interrogation, and they wanted custody of me for some experiments. The East German’s accepted and I was sent to East Mangoustan. Their scientists were experimenting on chemical makeups of two things: humans and plastic. They kept me in prison for a good while, and actually kept me quite healthy. One day, it changed when two soldiers dragged me into a laboratory. They chloroformed me and I woke up feeling stiff.
Over the next several days, my skin began to look shiny and hard, and I gradually couldn’t move my limbs. I started getting shorter. Eventually, I turned into what was essentially a plastic bean. They cut off my legs and put in a capsule with a magnet in place of them. They planned to clone my plastic body and make a children’s game out of my image.
Thus was born the Blick Jumping Bean from Schylling, a front for the East Mangoustani government. The goal for the game is to roll me or one of my clones so that my weighted side fits in the ditch in the center of the playing board and I stand upright. Ironically enough, I, the original Mr. Blick, ended up in a house in West Germany. I’m still there, in an attic. I sent you one of my clone games. I was able to make it to a computer and rolled onto each key in order to type this message. Surprisingly easy with a magnet.
Now, I need your help. You’ve fought the East Mangoustanis before, and now I need you to fly to Germany and come to the house where I am (address is enclosed in this letter). Take me, and, with some allies, force them to change me back. I can then help you to overthrow the East Mangoustanis and restore peace to the region.
Help me Arren Kimbel-Sannit. You’re my only hope.
Expect more from this story soon.