"Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe" - Jabberwocky
But who am I to judge? If I was a tove in the prime of my life reduced to living in a wabe, I'd probably be gyring and gimbling a fair amount too. There was one particularly pathetic little tove, (we'll call him Ishmael) living in the most dangerous part of the forest, who had to share a habitat with the likes of the Jubjub bird, a Bandersnatch, and a psychotic, wild-eyed teenager wielding a sword. But that was all after Frabjous Day. The real story begins long before the frabjoulity of F-day; it begins at a time in Ishmael's life that was almost as sad, desperate, and pointless as the aforementioned. It begins here.
Fast-rewind to T-minus 2 years before F-Day. Ishmael can't stand his job, but keeps forgetting to file a Midlife Crisis vacation request. He had once been prematurely gray, but he's now prematurely bald. And worst of all, Ishmael's wife just recently discovered that his "wiffle ball league" doesn't actually "exist" and is, in fact, just an cover for him to spend time at the neighborhood pub, The Tulgey Tarts.
Ishmael's only friend in the world is a dragon-like creature, J. Edward Wellkey, with whom he shares an unlikely friendship consisting mainly of bi-weekly seances held with the primary objective of getting stock tips from the world beyond. So far, the only person they'd been able to contact was an individual who wasn't taking the whole "dead" thing very well. The advice they received was incredibly obscene and had much more to do with self-inflicted pain and embarrassment than stock futures. When the two friends weren't lighting incense candles and holding hands in a very no-homo sort of way, Ishmael and Edward would spend the day walking along the beach. Sometimes they took bets on which celestial object would win control of the sky. Other times, they listened quietly in hopes of hearing the mysterious Walrus recite. But most often of all, the pair would sit on the beach for hours just smoking marijuana and writing limericks such as these:
There was once found a platter of tarts
In care of the brave knave of hearts.
His own mouth he fed,
Then "Off with his head!"
He now rests in peace in two parts.
There once was a man from a place,
Who existed as matter in space.
He lived during time,
And enjoyed a nice rhyme,
Although occasionally he wrote in free verse.
Coming soon: Episode 2 - "In One Auditory Canal..." or "When I Was Your Age"