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Snarfblog and the Piffleduff
by Preston Adams Snarfblog looked at his watch. The piffleduff was late. Again. He tapped his foot and after a moment of brief consideration decidedly marched to the ticket booth – a boarded shack with lemon-yellow paint slathered in globs and baked in the hot, noonday sun. He was going to have a word with the manager. Peeved, he rapped his knuckles on the dusty window and waited for a jolly old fellow to emerge from a milieu of inscrutable shadow. “Keen ah hep ya?” Snarfblog huffed and pointed to his watch, then the docking station. The fat man smiled, an oblivious gesture of insouciance or stupidity – Snarfblog couldn’t discern which. “Late!” Snarfblog snapped. “The Piffleduff should have boarded fifteen minutes ago!” Other Lam Blats milled about, checking their flots and badoozles as they patiently awaited the piffleduff. Could no one comprehend the concept of time? Did no one but Snarfblog have places to do and things to be? “Ugh!” He glowered at the map above the stupefied bloat in the window. You Are Here, it read. A large red arrow pointed to a speck on the map. The city of Reason was 200 blibberty-clacks to the north, and the tiny hamlet of Common Sense was 130 BCs to the south. “Well,” Snarfblog snorted. “Now I understand what it means to be north of Common Sense and south of Reason.” |
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