Tuesday, May 09, 2006

First Contact!

I believe I have at last made contact with departed souls. My Arctic Roll plan was scuppered by some creature sneaking into my home and purloining the snack long before the eskimo ghosts detected it. Various clues, such as a lingering odour of umber and boysenberries, lead me to believe that the culprit was an eaglet. I will avenge this slight in time.

On Saturday, however, I hit upon a superior plan, which was to disguise myself as a walrus by growing a moustache and stuffing my clothes with cushioning and loft insulation. This would certainly attract ravenous eskimo ghosts, who enjoy the fatty hides of walrusses as we enjoy sweetmeats like fudge. It took me until last night before I was satisfied that my moustache was of sufficient length to pass it off as walrus whiskers: at this point I readied the rest of my disguise.

At once, there was a knock at the door. Answering it, I was greeted by a tremendously fat couple. Surely eskimo spirits in corporeal form, I assumed! I know from consulting books in the past that eskimos pride themselves on reaching gargantuan proportions. Their children are subjected to systematic treatment by confinement in narrow dark rooms, where they are fed on farinaceous foods and the flesh of young seals until they are almost a shapeless mass of fat. The eskimo women reach with astonishing rapidity the desired embonpoint on a diet of buttered clams and Play-Doh.

I saw by the looks on the couple's faces that my appearance alarmed them. A proud race, clearly they were humiliated to have fallen for my walrus-disguise-entrapment-ploy ('the old looby-loo' as it's known in the trade). To throw me off the scent, they maintained a cover story that they were a local couple collecting money for the charitable organisation 'Scottish Spastics', now called 'Capability Scotland' for reasons of politeness. I told them to drop the charade and tried to capture them in the shoebox I had laid aside for this purpose, but they were too plump. They ran away.

My efforts to discourse with the dead were not entirely successful, but at least I have finally made 'first contact' with the spirit realm. I hope that word gets around among the spooks that I am a gifted medium, and that they will now flock to me in droves.


My disguise.

1 comment:

Quinn said...

Nice blog, but it ain't my cup of meat. The correct term is 'Inuit' btw. Your portrayal of the Inuit people, of which I am a proud member, is grossly ignorant and offensive.

We do not live in igloos and eat Arctic Roll and penguins. I shall give you a brief run down of day-to-day life in the Inuit community in an attempt to educate you.

9:00am: Everybody is seen building ships and boats.

9:30am: Others are to be observed building monuments.

9:45am: Others jot down notes.

10:00am: Every girl and boy starts to despair. That's every girl and boy.

10:45am: I arrive and everybody is assumed to jump for joy.

11:00am: The population sing a song in my honour informing listeners that they will not see nothing like me.

...and so on in that fashion. I hope this gives you a more accurate picture of the Inuit people and you can stop with your Inuit-bashing.