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 a place for my responses to the prompts from Andre the Blog Monkey's Banana Bar |
Fun times never stop at "Invalid Item"  .
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| Prompt: Today you've been coerced into fostering a rescue muse. Yep, Tell us about your experience at the muse shelter. Describe some of the muses and their sad history. Decide which muse you are going to adopt, then choose one to give to one of the other bloggers, tell them a little about the muse you chose for them and why you thought it would be the perfect muse for them. Do you know what would be fun? This is Andre's idea Give rescue muses to your Writing.com friends and tag them in your entry. The muses will thank you for this. "That's why I love you so much! You always try to help out whoever and wherever you can," gushed MJ, unusually sober and clear-minded. "It's so nice of you to go with us to the Muse Shelter and help re-home those poor muses!" "Just so I'm clear MJ, I'm not adopting them all myself. I will help find homes for as many as I can, but I will NOT be home to them all." I tell her. "She has a point there MJ," Ravyn said. "It is getting a bit crowded in here. What with me, and you, and that damned talkative dog, and that ginormous bear, and... that...cat!" Ravyn haughtily stated. "That reminds me Rave, why haven't I heard from Ixnay or Mabel lately?" I ask. "Oh!" MJ rushes in to talk before Ravyn can open her mouth. "Rave muzzled Ixnay because she said he talked way too much, and she was tired of hearing him!" Ravyn glares at MJ and responds, "You know it's winter and Mabel likes to sleep all winter. That's what bears do, isn't it?" "I suppose you have a point Rave. But you need to take the muzzle off Ixnay. He does have valuable things to say. That could be why I haven't been able to write much lately." Ravyn sighs. She didn't want any other muse to be the center of attention and that dog was always demanding to be heard. "Okay. Whatever. But if I have to take the muzzle off the dog, does that mean that you're going to let Jel out of his straight jacket and padded room? I like him. We get into all sorts of adventures!" Just thinking about the last time that Jel was allowed out of the padded room made me cringe in trepidation. The fiery little imp was a handful on the best of days, but his penchant for setting things aflame came to a head when he set an entire bus on fire just because he wanted to see if cologne was flammable. It is. Very. Ravyn just stood by laughing at the entire fiasco, always true to herself. That was the last time we saw Dart though. I think the flames scared the poor hawk away. "Okay, here we are." I tell my fellow rescuers. "Let's see who we can save today, shall we!" Venturing inside, we see rows of little cells; each one holding a muse. On the outside of each is a card with information about the muse within that cell. "Wouldn't it be fun if we mixed up all the cards?" Ravyn asks. "Rave, why do you always have to be so bad, man? That is wrong on so many levels." MJ says with a hint of frustration in her voice. MJ is usually so laid back. She must really think saving these muses is important. The first cell has a tiny songbird inside, wearing a miniature scarf. The card says: Name: Easnadh - pronounced As-nuh Description: Musical muse History: Surrendered to the shelter after her trombonist lost the desire to play. Additional Notes: Would make the perfect muse for any musician but is best suited for those that play brass or woodwind instruments. "Oh Jenn! Don't you think Easnadh would be perfect for Richard ~ Typing Left Handed? Just perfect! She could inspire him to play more and maybe even help out with a story or two!" MJ says excitedly. I have a feeling she's going to want to match every muse here with a new home. I shake my head in silence and continue looking at all the muses. Maybe we'll find one to add to our "happy family" as well. The muses in some of the cells hunker in the back corners of their enclosures, seemingly terrified. I feel even worse for those little ones. A small, bold dragon catches my eye. He looks like he is challenging the world from behind the enforced glass door of his abode. Red-gold scales and golden eyes mesmerize me. I hear in my head a silky voice that suggests for me to read his information and I am compelled to do so. Name: Unknown as he has refused to mind meld with any of the volunteers Description: Small male dragon muse. History: Unknown. He just showed up on the shelter doorstep one morning with no note of explanation Additional Notes: Needs a home where dragons are treasured. Very strong minded but unusually pleasant for a dragon I bet the new guy, Averren could give him a home. Or maybe Sox and Sandals or Apondia... We'll take him along too! I keep looking at the muses trapped behind their glass doors. My heart sinks. There's no way I can re-home all of them! There are just so many! With tears forming in my eyes, I tell the girls it is time for us to go. I say, "I guess it's time for us to go. I don't want to, but there's I don't know how to find enough musicians, writers, and painters to re-home so many muses." MJ and I cry together. Ravyn smiles broadly as she thinks there will not be a new addition to our family and she won't be deprived of any attention. Even with my heart breaking for those poor muses, I get irritated with my nefarious fairy! Head hung low I begin walking back toward the exit. It seems to take forever; the eyes of all those displaces muses seemingly damning me. But Nebula's strong voice rings in my head, "Stop! There is one you must look at more closely!" If Nebula is interested in this, then I have the feeling that we are going home with a "plus one more". I'm guided to one of the cells where a muse is cowering in the back corner. Its eyes are huge swirling orbs that draw me in. Instead of seeing pupils I see the sky, clear and blue. The muse stands and edges closer to the door. It looks like a desert fox. My heart goes out to it. It begins timidly searching my mind. Even without reading the card, I knew I was going to give this muse a home. But I read the card anyway. Name: Promise Description: Desert fox History: Rescued by the ASPCM after her previous writer abused her by asking for her inspiration around the clock. Additional Notes: Needs a caring and loving home where she is not the only muse Even Ravyn seems to be taken with the dear small fox. Maybe we are the perfect family for her! In true MJ style she asks, "Awww! Can we keep her?" We all chuckle, even Nebula - from wherever she is hiding. Promise and the other muses we're rescuing today all jump inside. The more the merrier, right?! And off we go to take Promise, Easnadh, and the unnamed dragon to their new homes. **How sweet is that! It even brought a tear to MY eye. - Rave.**  |
| Prompt: It's a funny thing now that we are all gathered here in The Banana Bar with our muses, waiting for the Day 3 prompt to finally be revealed, when all of a sudden the lights went out, and when the lights came back on you find yourself in the Banana Bar Basement. Oh No! That's not good. Luckily there was a pen and paper left behind, probably by the last group of bloggers I trapped in the basement somehow. Write about what you find or discover in the basement, and how you find your way out. or if you find your way out Do you meet anyone down there? Is your muse helpful in helping you navigate a path back upstairs? The lights came back on and I was somehow in the basement of the Banana Bar. I look around and discover I'm alone. Where'd everyone else go? How on earth did I get into the basement? There's creepy chuckling to my right so I look in that direction and see a table holding a pencil, paper, and that damned creepy stuffed monkey that I thought I had gotten rid of back in October. It's just looking at me with those black button eyes, grinning that same cloth grin that never leaves its face. It gave me goosebumps. More chuckling, but they weren't coming from the stuffed monkey, they were coming from deeper in the shadows. The chuckles turned into more feminine, bell-like tinkling giggles as I peered deeper into the shadows. Then I figured it out. Ravyn was back; for what reason, I had no idea. "Ravyn, why'd you bring me down here? They were just about to reveal the day three prompt!" The question just made Ravyn's giggle turn into a laugh. I thought to myself, Oh no! This cannot be good! when her laugh finally subsided, she responded, "Silly woman, I didn't bring you here, but I saw who did! And they gave out the day three prompt yesterday! You've been out of it for an entire day!" "What do you mean 'an entire day' Ravyn? It's Wednesday January 26. And if you didn't bring me here, who did?" More giggling. "Whoa! You're still out of it aren't you?! Today is Thursday January 27!" The room became hazy and filled with the smell of weed. MJ materialized from the haze and said, "Oh Rave, leave her alone. Can't you see she's confused?" "Confused?" I yell. "I'm not confused! I lost an entire day! I want to know exactly what happened you two!" "I wasn't me, man." MJ pouted. "Me either," giggled Ravyn, "but you do have to admit it's pretty funny." "What's so funny Ravyn? Have you been into MJ's stash or something?" I ask frustratedly. "No, silly. You know I like to see you all stressed out. It's when I'm at my best!" MJ yawned disinterestedly and chimed in, "It was that cheeky little furball that old Grumpy took under his wing. I guess it decided you were the next victim of its," and here she put up her fingers as if she were mimicking quotation marks, "little game." "Well Damn! I'm sorry for thinking it was one of you, but you two are the ones who usually play tricks on me. Can either of you at least help us get out of this mess?" I ask. "Not me," MJ retorted. "I've got a bowl of cereal calling my name." "Why would I help you?" Ravyn sulked. "You thought I got you into this pickle!" "Oh! Pickles!" MJ exclaimed. And with that, she vanished from the room, taking the haze and smell with her. Ravyn just looked at me smugly. Her eyes gleaming as if daring me to ask again for her help. Instead, I ask her, "Why are you still here? If you won't help me figure out how to get out of here, you're just getting in the way!" "Oh, but you know how I love to see you in distress! I think I'll stay a bit longer!" I walk around, mumbling to myself about the unfairness of it all. Why'd I have to get such stubborn, annoying muses?! Why was I the one that little furball decided to play its tricks on? How am I supposed to figure out how to get out of here? And HOW did I lose an entire day?! All of a sudden, the air in the basement became really warm. Ravyn gasped in terror; something I had never heard her do before. Whatever was coming couldn't be anything good! The light coming from the opposite corner of the room was blinding. It scorched my eyes even while they were closed. The room continued to become even more warm. Then the lights returned to almost normal, and the temperature of the room became a perfect 70 degrees Fahrenheit. When I could once again see, I look to where the blinding light has originated. Across the room, there sat a large Peterbald cat. Its coat was a gorgeous grey in color and had a slight fuzz to it. The animal had an air of royalty to it, as it sat there staring at me. I heard Ravyn quietly say, "I'm outta here! Catch you later!" In my head, a new voice spoke, "No Ravyn, I'll catch you later." And Ravyn vanished. So much for help from my muse! But the voice spoke in my head again, "Do you not remember me? We are joined together as surely as you are joined with the nuisance or that stoned wonder. Let me refresh your memory..." Then many images popped into my mind! So many near death experiences, times of being comforted, times of being lost but somehow finding my way home. "These were all my doing. I have tried to remain in the shadows, but I see it is now time that I help you remember who I am. Let me start with my name, I am Nebula. We have spent many lives together and there are many more still for us to see. I felt that you are lost so I came once again to your aid. I felt that you are need of comfort, so I am here to offer you my support. I cannot help you find the time you have lost, but I can help you find your way out of this basement and back to the sunlight." I stare in awe, only the tiniest bit of memory of this being tickling the recesses of my mind. All I can think to say is, "Thank you." "Sometimes it is okay that you cannot find your words, dear. And as far as the little trickster that sent you here, I have my own game in store." Nebula guided me through the darkened tunnel back to the back room of the Banana Bar, curled around me in a comforting gesture of love, and said, "Now I'm off. I have a little game of Cat and Mouse to play." |
| He looked dapper as he stood at the podium in his slate grey Italian suit and lilac colored silk tie and matching pocket square. I had finally talked him out of wearing the newsboy cap earlier that day, and I was thankful that he had finally listened. He looked foolish in the thing. It was going to be enough of a gamble to keep him from going off-script or getting drunk before the speech. The media would definitely find something wrong with Andre or his speech and let the rest of the world know their opinions. Because that's what the media had come to, everyone writing their opinions and calling it real news. When I was a kid, there were columns in the newspapers for it and whole magazines devoted to it, like the National Enquirer. Now here we are, forty years later and there is no "real news" anymore. A monkey running for president was news though. It was big news. Being early in the primaries, Andre had yet to decide who his running mate would be, but he had a few in mind. As he stood up there grinning and waving, I waited backstage with fingers crossed. "Please don't mess this up Andre. Just read the speech we wrote," I thought. And he opened his mouth. All the crowd heard was chattering monkey noises. Someone had forgotten to turn on the translator app. "Reekekkekk ahahah... and as your president I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure the children of this great nation are encouraged to read with my Bananas for Books program. I intend that all American youth will be able to compete with the rest of the world stage on an academic level. Another issue I am passionate about is..." Andre is still talking as the microphone malfunctions and the tech crew works to get it fixed. "...And finally, I will ensure the peoples of this great nation come together. The time for division is over, it is now time for us to unify as one and heal this country and her people! Thank you. Good night!" Andre steps back from the microphone and begins talking to me from the stage unaware that the microphone is still on. "Let's get out of here and get to the Banana Bar! I've got some vodka with my name on it!" The headline of the major media outlets read, "Surge in Vodka Sales Following Presidential Candidate Speech" Now, who's ready for a banana martini? |
| Blame it on my Muse a 5 DAY Blog Challenge January 24-28 DAY 1 PROMPT - 1/24/22 You have to prepare a complex meal for a special occasion, all of your family and friends will be in attendance. Oh, oh... You are completely out of every ingredient and you don't have time to go shopping. You have to send your muse out shopping, there's no other option. What do you send your muse to shop for? What does your muse return with, and how does your dinner party turn out? Since my daughter is pregnant with her first child, my first grandbaby, I thought it would be nice to throw a celebratory feast for all our family and friends. We expected a lot of people, so I decided to start the meal off with the classic, tortilla chips and a choice between pico de gallo and salsa verde for the guests to graze on until the first course was ready to be served. I had planned on armadillo eggs as the appetizer, followed by grilled sirloin steaks, garden salad, and fully loaded baked potatoes. For anybody who still had enough room left for dessert, there would be cheesecake, as it is my daughter's favorite, and a cherry crumble. Having been called in to work, I didn't have time to go shopping for the supplies for this meal. I decided it couldn't hurt to send one of my muses to pick the stuff up for me. I should have ordered it online and just sent her to pick it up, but I never even thought about that; after all, I have to do everything the hard way. So, I write down a list of everything that'll be needed and sweet talk my muse MJ into going to get it, emphasizing how important the task is. I even asked her to let me know when she made it back with everything. Ingredients: Yellow Onions, Jalapeno Peppers, Garlic, Tortilla Chips, Cilantro, Salsa Verde, Pork Breakfast Sausage, Bacon, Cheddar Cheese, Cream cheese, Barbecue Sauce, Baking-sized Potatoes, Sirloin Steaks, Spring Mix Cherry Tomatoes, Shredded Carrots, Salad Dressings, Sour Cream, Bacon Bits, Butter, Graham Crackers, Vanilla, Eggs, Sugar, Cinnamon, Cherry Pie Filling, Brown Sugar, Flower, Oats I left this important job in her hands and went back to work. I should have known better; MJ is a sweet girl, but she's a bit spacey - loopy even. (Don't worry, she doesn't care when I tell people how I see her, she knows she's that way and thinks it's funny.) I started to worry when a few hours went by and I hadn't heard from her. By the time I clocked out of work and made it home, I was in a near panic. My anxiety proved to be well-founded, however. When I walk into the house, MJ is stretched out on the couch watching Beavis and Butthead reruns, laughing hysterically. She was surrounded by mountains of junk food. I saw boxes of cereal, Ding Dongs, cookies, snack cakes, popcorn, ice cream, bags of gummy bears, candy bars, beef jerky - the only thing she had gotten that was on my list was the chips! I ask her, "MJ, what happened? Where are the ingredients I asked for?" MJ looks at me undoubtedly high, and responds, "Yeah, well, about that... I already had the munchies when I got to the store, and... I saw so much that looked so good... and I forgot that I needed to pick up things for you. Besides, I think I lost the list you gave me." "MJ how am I going to get a feast ready for everyone without the ingredients I need to make everything?" I exasperatedly ask her. "Sheesh! I dunno. That's for you to figure out," she dismissively retorted as she turned the volume on the television louder. I called around looking for a restaurant that could accommodate our large gathering and found one willing to fit us in on such short notice. We ended up having Mexican food. But that's okay, my daughter loved it. And they had cheesecake on the menu. |
| Sample prompt for the Blame it on my Muse a 5 DAY Blog Challenge You've been on an extended vacation, your luggage is packed full of souvenirs and acquisitions from several countries. You have to cross a border into a small country with heavily armed security and many large warning signs written in a language you can't read. You and your luggage are pushed in front of an angry border officer, who proceeds to yell at you in an unknown language. Just then, your muse materializes in its physical form, and says to you, "Don't worry... I got this." Tell us how the rest of your day went. ... I wake with a throbbing head and look around. I have no idea where I am or how I got there, so I decide to check things out. My first effort at standing found me returning to a seated position on the cot on which I had been placed. My head screams at me more. Instinctively, I place my hand where the pain is greatest, where I find a large knot still seeping blood. "What the Hell happened?" I ask myself, but of course there is no answer. They always choose when to let their presences be known. I manage to stand and, with the help of the wall, make it around the room to survey my surroundings. I was locked in some sort of cell. A large mirror, which I can only assume was a 2-way mirror, filled one wall. There were no windows and only one door to the room, and it was locked. There was a toilet behind a partition and of course the cot where I had awoken. I sit back down and stay sitting, head in hands, while I attempt to remember what I could of the circumstances that led to this newest predicament. Images dance through my mind: the airport, people screaming at me in some strange language, guns pointing at me while my luggage is unceremoniously dumped on the floor, rummaged through, and broken. I can just make out a feminine form appearing in front of me saying to me, "Don't worry... I got this." I can't recall which one appeared, but I have a good idea - there's only one that could get me into more trouble than I was already in. I ask myself again what is happening and still there is no answer; just the hint of a snigger tickling the back of my mind. With nothing else I can do I assess my injuries. The wound on my head was most likely made by a blow to the head. There are bruises on my wrists and ankles where I had at some point been fighting some sort of restraints. The door opens and in walks a man of medium build with dark hair and eyes. He could have been anyone from the country I had been attempting to leave, or any of the surrounding countries. When he spoke, he did so in halting English, asking for my name and business in the country. Seeing my chance to get some answers, I asked where I was and how I came about being there. In the best English he could, he told me that while the border officers were checking my luggage, I attacked the one closest to me, laughing like a mad woman. Border officers attempted to tase me to no effect, and one was forced to hit me on the head with the butt of his gun as I reached for the gun of the officer I was attacking. He said that even after being hit in the head, I continued to attack, until finally tranquilized and restraints applied. His retelling did nothing to jog my memory, yet I couldn't discount what he was telling me because I was beginning to understand which muse I had seen coming to my so-called aid. The one muse I loathe to appear, my maniacal counterpart Ravyn, had decided to show her face. It explained so very much. Now, my mind went to the next problem at hand, how to get out of this new situation and back home to the US... |
| Andre the Blog Monkey's Final Mystery Challenge Take a good look at this painting, is there something mysterious about it? A painting of a writer, who's having a drink, possibly wine, but more likely whiskey, maybe beer, whatever is in that glass you know it's going to get the guy drunk, that's all I'm saying, and there's nothing mysterious about that. So... What is the mystery behind the painting? I'm buying drinks for the blogger who writes the most intriguing mystery. It's also Funny Friday so, make your entry funny and gain an MB. The mystery isn’t in the painting, it is in the compilation of short stories which is being written by the subject of the painting. The painting is a portrait of the famed mystery author Frank N. Furter as he was writing the story, The Purloined Sirloin. While his usual writings do not focus around food, his hunger had begun to rage as he sat posing for this painting. It had already seemed like hours to him. Sitting there with nothing but thoughts of his empty stomach, he devised the plot and storyline of his most enduring masterpiece. During this time, he had missed breakfast, morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea, so by the time the painting was in its final phases, Mr. Furter was delirious with hunger and dreaming of nothing but food. The glass of spirits in the painting, being his tenth, had done nothing to sway the gnawing hunger he was experiencing. Becoming irrational due to his empty stomach, Frank frequently had to be reminded to sit still until the painter could complete his work, a feat that seemed almost impossible at the time. The dream-like look on Mr. Furter’s face which was captured in the painting is of him fantasizing about the steak and vegetables he would be consuming shortly. The short version of the story went something like this: A maid, while readying everything for the evening meal, had set the table for her master, mistress, and their guests. The meal was a sumptuous one, with thick cut sirloin steaks accompanied by garlic roasted potatoes and fresh greens followed by candied fruits and custard for dessert. She had gone back to the kitchen to gather the glasses and the wines that would accompany this culinary delight and was gone mere seconds. When the maid returned, the steak that had been set out for the master was missing, yet there was no one in the room who could be to blame. The maid, in a flurry, sets out to find what happened to the missing steak and asks the cook to make another just in case. While she is going about this, another of the juicy steaks disappears. The maid is beside herself with frustration. To keep the remaining steaks from disappearing as well, she takes them back to the kitchen for safe-keeping, knowing the cook would never allow anything to happen to the food she toiled so long to make. However, all it took was for the cook to turn her back for a moment and yet another of the steaks vanished. The maid and the cook called the butler in to assist them in finding the carnivorous culprit. There was no person seen around that could have taken the steaks, so the house staff gathered the guests and the master and his wife and questioned them on their whereabouts. One of the guests suggested the dog could have done it, after all it was sitting by the fire with quite the happy look on its face. But the master quickly shot down that idea; the dog was old and had never stolen any food from the table before. None of the humans ever found out what happened to the missing meat. But the old dog knew; he smiled and licked his jowls as he slipped once more into dreamland. He could now cross over the rainbow bridge a happy dog, having known the pleasure of Human Food. The moral of this story? It’s easy. You’ll end up writing about food if you try to write while hungry. Now I’m going to go grab a bite to eat, finally. |
| 5 Day Mini Challenge #4 - The Bermuda Triangle Andre says he once drove to the Bermuda Triangle and doesn't recall having any unusual experience there. He did report the feeling that he was missing the memory of a little time that passed while he was there, around 36 hours. I believe that vodka may have played a role in Andre's missing time. Still, the reputation of the area leads one to ponder the reasons for the many stories. What's the Secret of the Bermuda Triangle? Unless you've never been near a drugstore paperback rack and don't surf cable channels late at night, you've undoubtedly heard of the Bermuda Triangle, aka the Devil's Triangle. It's an area of water between Florida, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda that, according to pop mythology, contains some sort of malevolent force that causes ships, planes, and people to disappear, never to be seen again. Some have put the blame on extraterrestrial invaders capturing humans for study, on inter-dimensional vortices, and even on oceanic flatulence (methane gas erupting from ocean sediment) The secret of the Bermuda Triangle isn't really a secret at all. It is an oubliette created by the civilization which had also built Atlantis. It is a dungeon created to hold the Titans. What happens is, when the Titans become hungry, the top of the oubliette opens and sucks in whatever unlucky things happen to be in the roughly 1,250,000 square mile area. The power of the suction is such that it even pulls down planes from the sky. When the top of the oubliette opens, a thick fog surrounds the area in order to keep the Titans inside and also has the effect of throwing both oceanic vessels and planes off their course, a feature that ensures more of a likelihood to bring in decent fodder to feed the monsters. The mechanism which opens the portal operates on such a frequency that it renders all compasses unable to be used and has been known to short-out the circuitry of devices like pacemakers. Few people and vessels have made it out of the Bermuda Triangle when the portal device is engaged. An increase in documentation of the mysterious disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle in within the last one-hundred years can be attributed to modern communication technology. |
Jan. 12, 2022 Day 3 of the 5 Day Mini Challenge Prompt:The Curious and Mysterious Disappearance of Lord Lucan Lord Lucan, who vanished in 1974 following the murder of his children's nanny. Will we ever know what happened to him? Soon before 10 pm on 7 November 1974, Lady Lucan, hysterical and blood-covered, burst into The Plumbers Arms in Belgravia, London. She was screaming about the murder of her children’s nanny and that she had barely escaped with her life. What’s more, she named her estranged husband, Richard John Bingham, Earl of Lucan, as the attacker. How it went down: Lucan had been spying on his estranged wife for months in an attempt to find evidence of her having a mental illness so he might gain custody of his children. On the night in question, Lucan's wife, Veronica, invited him into the house to discuss the private detectives he had hired to follow her around. When he entered the home, the first person he came across was the nanny, Sandra Rivett. She was dead on the floor of the basement, her body placed in a canvas bag. Later the police would determine that a pipe had been used to bludgeon her to death. Lucan ran from the scene and attempted to wake one of the neighbors. Veronica took this chance to further frame her estranged husband and placed a pipe similar to the one she used to kill the nanny in the trunk of his car. Then Veronica runs to the Plumbers Arms with the story that her husband had killed the nanny and attacked her; while in reality, Lady Lucan had bludgeoned the nanny with the pipe and Sandra had fought back, injuring Veronica. Lady Lucan then contacted the police and told them the fantastical story she had concocted to pin the murder on Lucan, which was her plan all along. Lucan, realizing she was accusing him of the deed, ran to his friend's where he wrote letters to his friends Bill and Michael as well as an additional one covering financial matters on a notepad which he then placed in his trunk. The media was quick to blame him for the debacle although not all the evidence pointed at him. In his effort to escape prosecution for something he did not do, he attempted to call in a favor from some shady characters from his gambling days. Instead of helping him escape, they killed him and dumped his remains in the foundation of a new building that was being erected in a nearby township. And that is why he has not been seen since... or is it? |
| What's Written On Dighton Rock? In the 1950s, workers uncovered a huge 40-ton rock near Berkeley, Massachusetts with strange marks and symbols carved on it. It had first been described around 1680 and was studied many times by scholars in the centuries after, as per New England. Because it appears to have both pictorial inscriptions as well as some letter-like carvings, not everyone thinks it is the work of Native tribes in the area, but possibly the work of sailors from Portugal or even proof of Viking or Phoenician visitation. Andre says, "If anyone can decipher this message, it would have to be a writer." Share your theory, and solve the message in the marks and symbols. Convince your readers that your theory is the only factual solution. All one has to do is look at the Dighton Rock to be able to know the story of the day the Golden Ones came down from the skies in their floating boats. It describes the animals and plants of the land and waters that the Golden Ones encountered that day on their way to meet with the Peoples of the land, the Omamiwinini. On the rock, you can plainly see one of the Golden Ones coming out of the sky in his floating boat near a deer standing in a grove of trees. On the other side of the Golden One opposite the deer there is a large fish swimming amongst some water plants and bison roaming the land. Underneath the bison, a pair of wolves appears to be interested in the pile of furs which sit at the feet of the Elders. But what is less known is that the Golden Ones themselves carved the images on the stone so that the Peoples would never forget and would continue to tell the stories for generations. Besides, it was much easier for them to carve it with their laser knives than it would have been using the primitive tools of the Omamiwinini. |
Jan. 10, 2022 January, 2022 5 Day Mini Challenge - Day 1 Ancient Technology - Antikythera Computes A Mystery Named after the island near where it was found by sponge divers 115 years ago, the Antikythera mechanism is an incredible machine of finely calibrated gears that appeared to be technology not available until at least the 10th century—but the mechanism was at least 2,000 years old. Then in 2016, it was found in Andre the Blog Monkey's luggage when he returned to Canada from a magical mystery ship vacation. Can anybody shed some light on this mysterious object? The Antikythera mechanism creates portals into the space-time complex and was created by an advanced civilization in an alternate reality. They are the result of scientists and engineers working in concert with members of an alien race, using metals only found on worlds outside our solar system. These devices were created to aid the peoples in learning about events of their past, future, and other possible realities. Most excursions into the space-time continuum have gone off without a hitch, but in the case of this particular incident, the portal opened in the middle of an earth covered in water, some 2.5 billion years ago. Having had experience appearing in hostile environments, the crew of Team Omicron were luckily wearing suits capable of allowing them to survive the extreme conditions at the depths of the ocean floor. However, when Excursion Team Omicron exited the portal into this plane, they had the misfortune of coming out close to a giant kraken's nest. The hungry kraken took advantage of this bounty from heaven to supplement her diet, and such was the unfortunate end of the Omicron Team. The device not agreeing with the kraken's digestive system, she spat the machine out where it sat on the floor of the ocean until it was once again discovered a little over a century ago. Humans of this time do not have the knowledge or ability to operate the mechanism, so it had sat gathering dust in one research lab or another for the last 50 years. Then along comes Andre, who can tell there's more to the device than the humans understand. He steals the Antikythera mechanism and returns to Canada so he can figure out what exactly it is. As he is cleaning the sand and debris from the machine, he accidentally activates the device and opens a space-time portal into an unknown world-time where he falls in love with a buxom brunette. Before being sent back to his home world-time, he fathers a youngling. This is the beginning of the Planet of the Apes. |
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