The Search for Mr. Brown, Part 1

Posted by on August 7, 2014

We spent much of the day attempting to decipher the strange message we received from Mr. Brown. We picked apart every word, translated it into several different languages, played it backwards, and even fed it into the giant 1960s-era computer that fills about half of the basement at the FBFCR headquarters. All we learned from that is that my Mangoustani language lessons aren’t really paying off, and that when played backwards, the message sounds a bit like, “Sell your soul to the Great White Peccary.”

Thankfully, one of us had the good sense not to sell his soul to the Great White Peccary. While my colleague was off spending his soul money on oversized decorative furnishings, I continued to examine the vexing verse. Several hours passed, but I was no closer to a solution than when I started. (Also, the FBFCR headquarters now has a nine-foot tall lava lamp. Apparently that’s what people sell their souls for these days. Giant lava lamps. Go figure.)

Just when I was about to give up and accept that we’d never find Mr. Brown, he sent another message:

What’s in a color? What’s in a name?
I hope that you know this isn’t a game.
There’s no time to wait, not a moment to lose.
Don’t tarry, don’t dally, don’t linger, don’t snooze!

Come to Blue Mountain, it’s where I await.
I’ll rescue you from your Croatian fate.
But heed my words closely and follow my themes,
For a mountain is rarely the thing that it seems.

“A mountain is rarely the thing that it seems?” Is this guy for real? I’m starting to think that Mr. Brown doesn’t even exist. He’s probably just some persona created by one of those crazy Internet people who writes bad blog poetry. Because if he is real, his rhyming clues aren’t helping things much. I mean, first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain? Is that what he’s trying to say? How am I supposed to find him if there is no mountain? I really can’t deal with this. And then there’s that lava lamp. It’s just…so…big. I can’t get away from it. No matter where I look, I still see it.

Why? Why does there have to be bad poetry and a giant lava lamp on the same day? I just…I can’t handle this right now.

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