Hey. ‘Sup. Welcome back to the Story of the Week Club. Now, if you pay any attention to the original publication dates on the Classics (I know you all do), you’ll notice that a whole summer break has past at this point, bringing us to Season 2. Of course for those thoughtless clods out there who don’t pay attention to the original publication dates, I actually mention all this in the introduction. Which I know you all read. It’s in the rules, after all. I’m sure you’ve all read those, too.
So, for those of you who were impressed, interested, intrigued, or even off-put by what turned out to be an epic 15-part mini-series here at the club (KINGDOM FOUND, beginning here), you may be interested to find that this week’s Classic is the first time SotWC ventured into mini-series territory. Unlike KINGDOM FOUND, I went into this one on purpose, promising a three-parter from the outset. There’s way less epic-ness,more goofy humor, and far less sense being made. But I think it’s pretty fun. For instance, I deliberately break conventional literary wisdom by giving my main characters the same name, just spelled differently. Confusing? Well, I kind of hope so.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the first installment of the first mini-series ever published at SotWC!
Subject: JIM AND JYM. . . (story #10)
Date: Mon, 29 Aug 94 12:52:06 EDT
BRO-MAN’S STORY OF THE WEEK
Well, howdy howdy howdy. Welcome to the second thrilling season of the Story of the Week Club! We here at the club are very excited about the new season. We’ve had all summer to come with new and refreshing stories.
However, we haven’t, in truth given it a single moment’s thought, so we’ll just see what happens, okay?
So, we’re going to kick off the season with something new to the club: a mini-series! This week, we present part one of a three part adventure! So, we hope you like the characters and all, cuz yer stuck with ‘em for three weeks.
Here we go. . . !
JIM AND JYM AND THE TREASURE OF THE BIG MOUNTAIN
Somewhere in the jungles of Borneo, on a hot and humid Thursday, a man was fleeing for his life. Every now and then he would glance behind him fearfully. Of course, every time he did this, he would run into a tree, or trip over a bush or something, seeing as how he was in the jungle. I mean, jeez, you’d think he’d learn.
Anyway. . . Sweat coursed down his face. His clothes were soaked (he had fallen in a river while looking back once). His feet ached, but still he pressed on. Suddenly, he saw a path ahead of him. He let out a cry of joy, kind of like “Gnnnuyah!” (he was very tired, and not feeling very coherent). He stumbled onto the path and looked around. Down the path to his right, the sun was setting, so he figured that was South (he wasn’t very good with directions). Up the path to his left stood a big mountain. There was snow at the top of the mountain, so he figured that was West (he wasn’t very good with logic, either). He had decided to head West to the mountain when he saw a sign pointing up the path.
“Don’t go up the Mountain!” the sign read, “there’s a treasure up there and no one’s supposed to know about it!”
“Hmmm,” the man thought, foolishly taking time to pause in the middle of the path, “I wonder what that could mean? I’d better send word to my colleagues, Jim and Jym.” With that, he pulled out the carrier pigeon he had been carrying in his back pocket, and attached the sign to its leg. On the back of the sign, he wrote his coordinates, or at least what he thought his coordinates were. Like that was a big help. Then he tossed the pigeon into the air. Of course, the sign was really heavy, and the bird immediately fell to the ground with a thump. It got up, shook its wing at the man, and started walking.
Just then, there was a noise behind the man, and something huge and monstrous lurched out of the jungle at him. The man turned to run, but he hit another tree and huge beast caught him.
Down the path aways, far from the ensuing sounds of carnage, the carrier pigeon bought a first class ticket on AirBorneo and headed for the states.
Three days later, on a beautiful Thursday morning, Jim and Jym were sitting their offices when they received a phone call. It was Beatrice, the lady next door asking them to turn down the Bobby Darin music, she was trying to watch Donahue.
Two hours later, there was a knock on the door. Jim got up and opened the door. At first, he saw no one. Then he felt a sharp pain in his foot. He looked down to see that a carrier pigeon had just driven a sign through his foot.
“Damn,” he said, as the pigeon waddled off down the hall.
“Hey, Jim, who’s there?” asked Jym.
“Some bird with a bad attitude,” Jim answered, trying to wrench his foot from the floor.
“What’s he want?” Jym asked, not looking up.
“Apparently to cause me a great deal of pain,” Jim replied, “hey, can you bring me a crowbar or something?”
“Sure,” Jym replied, and pulled a crowbar out of his desk.
“Hey, there’s writing on this thing,” Jim observed as Jym handed him the crowbar. He quickly put the crowbar under his foot and pried upward. He then pulled the sign from his foot and began reading it.
“Say,” said Jym, frowning a little, “that’s kind of a nasty cut you’ve got there. Want a band-aid?”
“Oh my gosh!” Jim exclaimed, “this is a message from Maurice! It says he’s in Borneo being chased by some hideous creature and he’s found the ancient treasure of the Big Mountain!”
Jym looked at the sign. “No, it doesn’t,” he said, studying the writing. “It says he has no idea what the sign means, and something about running into lots of trees, and according to these coordinates, he’s in Billings, Montana.”
Jim shrugged, “Well, you gotta read between the lines.” he said.
“Well, sure,” said Jym, “I’ll buy that.”
The next day, they were on a plane to Borneo, headed for uncertain danger.
Actually, they were headed for Borneo, but that wouldn’t make as good a cliffhanger, now would it?
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
Well, there you go, dear readers. Are you on the edge of your seats? Are you waiting for next week’s installment with bated breath? Are you biting your fingernails with anticipation? Well cut it out, it’s a yucchy habit.
And I oughta know.