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Date Posted: 20:57:10 12/06/01 Thu
Author: Corum & Yorik
Subject: That's me
In reply to: Marz and co. 's message, "Moving on to the next stop in the journey" on 10:13:23 12/06/01 Thu

Corum loved the feel of Tia’s lap, and wished he could rest there forever. Unfortunately the mean old Erlic decided it was time to leave. That’s when it finally hit him, not the thought in his head but the snake. Marz was right, he was always attracting other animals, and he couldn’t figure out why. He picked up the snake, and held it in front of his face. “You know,” Corum started. “You really should find some friends of your own, cause I really can’t take care of you. I mean don’t you ever want to grow up, find a nice girl snake, settle down, and have some snakettes of your own? I thought so.” Corum placed the snake on the ground, and shooed it away. Slowly it slithered through the terrain until it was out of sight.

By the time the snake had left, Tia was already on her feet, and he was sorry that the nice moment had to end so quickly. Perhaps there would be another time when he could simply lay his head on her lap, and simply rest, and enjoy himself.

LAP, n. One of the most important organs of the female system -- an admirable provision of nature for the repose of infancy, but chiefly useful in rural festivities to support plates of cold chicken and heads of adult males. The male of our species has a rudimentary lap, imperfectly developed and in no way contributing to the animal's substantial welfare.

He quickly followed the others as they continued their journey. A while later, actually a much tired while later, Corum was glad to simply stop. After meeting up with the tribe, and finding out that their destination was over four hours away, he didn’t feel like walking any further. It was then that he felt all eyes upon him. First he looked around, wondering if Justin was close by to him, making him smell. But Justin was far enough away, so it had to be something else.

The word Shaman came out, and Corum had to think about why that sounded so familiar. Try, as he might nothing clicked in his head.

YO MORON!!!! WAKE UP YOU NINNY. MARZ….THE ISLAND….GLASS SKULLS….REMEMBER?

Something clicked inside that void that Corum called a brain, and suddenly the rescue of Marz on the island came back to his memory, although somewhat slowly. “Hey Yorik,” Corum muttered to the skull. “They think we’re important, like real important, so act accordingly.”

MATERIAL, adj. Having an actual existence, as distinguished from an imaginary one. Important.

What the hell did Yorik mean by material anyway? Corum shook his head trying to decipher his skull’s actions, and simply raised it up and down a few times. The tribe bowed reverently before him as he kind of looked at them with dumbfounded stupor. It suddenly dawned on him that not only did he have Yorik on the staff, but also he had Barry floating around him. “No wonder they look at me like that,” Corum muttered to Barry. “They think I’m important or something cause I got you, and Yorik.”

“Yama, salla, shammah ad or with ba,” Corum stated to the tribe leader. He had no clue what he just said, simply making it up as he went along. Considering the response he received, he must have said something important. Eventually he sat down with the others, and nearly gagged on the goat’s blood when he took a stiff drink from it.

BRANDY, n. A cordial composed of one part thunder-and-lightning, one part remorse, two parts bloody murder, one part death-hell-and-the- grave and four parts clarified Satan. Dose, a head full all the time. Brandy is said by Dr. Johnson to be the drink of heroes. Only a hero will venture to drink it.

Corum nearly choked on the beverage, and was glad when it was given to someone else. He simply smiled at the tribe wondering why in the world anyone would want to drink such garbage.

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