The Search for Mystery: Part III: Showdown in the Phantom Fjords!

A call to adventure, dear Readers! Only hours ago, the RMS Lusitania and Gentleman Jesper's pirate clipper pulled ashore along the banks of the Phantom Fjords of Norway. We disembarked and my intrepid team of travellers, riding atop majestic Norwegian fjord horses, followed Gentlemen Jesper and his crew into the bowels of a steamy, dank and dark cavern.


The vast pirate booty that lay inside could have given Queen Victoria's Crown Jewels a run for their moneys! But, alas, it was plain to anyone with a full frontal lobe that this treasure had been picked through and pilfered by a character of great size, strength and hairy-ness. The culprit could be none other than my sought after prize: The Norwegian Man-Beast!


In the midst of my excitement, I could feel the ol' Fudgington gears spinning and twirling inside my cranium. A plan was being devised! Despite the protests of the ill-tempered Gentleman Jesper, I decided to take the Man-Beast alive. This would plan would necessitate a trap!


And not just any trap, my little Fudgingites . . . a mechanized marvel to rival any creation of one Mr. Rube Goldberg himself! Using parts and pieces scrounged out of the many articles found in Gentlemen Jespers swashbuckling of modern ocean liners, my trap operated thusly:


Marv L. (the Mechanical Man) begins the operation by turning a large crank (a). This crank sets in motion a series of gears (b). As these gears turn, they cause a lever (c) to be pulled back. Attached to the business end of the lever is road sign (d) which comes in contact with one of Seamus' boots (e). When this boot is struck by the road sign, it knocks over a bucket (f). The bucket spills its contents (a cannonball (g)) down a flight of stairs (h) and into a winding length of pipe (i). This pipe terminates at the anterior of a long rod (j) where it is struck by the cannonball. At the posterior of said rod, lies a stuffed driving glove (k) which pushes a bowling ball (m) down a plank (n). At the far end of this plank, there is hole (o) which the bowling ball falls through into a claw-footed bathing tub (p). The imbalance of weight induced by the bowling ball causes the tub to shift slightly and the bowling ball passes through yet another hole where the tubs drain (q) would be. Then, the bowling ball plummets several feet onto a See-Saw (aka Teeter-Totter) (r). Stationed at the other end of this See-Saw (aka Teeter-Totter) is our very own Contessa Bianca Belladonna (s) decked out in full diving regalia that would make Busby Berkeley pause and have a look-see. The Contessa is then vaulted into a large wine making barrel (t). This added force sends a shock wave up a tall post (u) which springs a large, bell-shaped diving cage (v). This cage falls into place over the bait (w) (a wheel of Jarlsberg, the preferred snack of the Norwegian Man-Beast) and hopefully the Man-Beast himself (x, y & z)!


Now, if my calculations are correct, success should be in hand simply by following the Fudgington Theorem: a²+b²+c²+d²+e²+f²+g²+h²+i²+j²+k²+l²+m²+n²+o²+p²+q²+r²+s²+t²+u²+v²+w²+x²+y²+z²+=VICTORY²!


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The Search For Mystery: Part II: Danger on the High Seas!

Shiver me timbers, Fudgington-ites! On this fine day, I report to you from the lido deck of the RMS Lusitania where I can feel the rumble of her twenty-five Scotch boilers in the engine room below. Her quadruple blade propellers are propelling us ever closer to the fjords of Norway and I can hardly contain my own excitable self.

But firstly, let me tell the tale of a happenstance that fate felt necessary to befall upon us just several hours prior. Marv L., Sir Poppycock & Yours Truly were engaged in a rousing match of Ms. Lizzie Magie's The Landlord Game (your faithful narrator is proud to say that he owned Lake Shore Drive, Easy Street & the Gee-Whiz Railroad, which was putting him on the fast track to victory), when a loud smattering of clatters arose from the stern of our fine vessel.

With much haste, our triad of board gamers moved to the ship's rear decks to investigate. What we saw turned my skin cold while simultaneously making my blood boil (a most unpleasant sensation); We were being pirated by pirates! And they were Danish pirates, no less. Those ne'er-do-wells of the North Sea. They attempted to board the Lusitania with cutlasses between their teeth and Tommy guns in their strong seamans' grips.

But, good old Seamus McBootstraps was taking on all a comers with fury of lefts and rights that would make Jack Johnson jealous. And oh, dear readers, if you could have only been there to see the grace with which the Contessa was deftly employing her Mauser C96 to ensure that not one Dane set foot aboard our steamer! With "Scooter" Steele and myself on the Maxim guns, the pirates were deftly trounced in a matter of minutes.

An eerie silence echoed over the emerald waves of the foggy sea. After what seemed to be a month of Sundays, the pirate captain finally called out to us and admitted his defeat, replacing his Jolly Roger with a white flag of surrender. Summoning all my courage, I invited this salty seadog aboard the Lusitania to parley.

This crimson haired stranger came aboard and introduced himself as Jesper the Gentleman Pirate, Terror of the Germanic Sea. After much discussion, I was astonished to learn that not only had Gentleman Jesper heard of the Norwegian Man-Beast, but claimed that this same creature was responsible for pilfering his hidden pirate booty. What a marvelous turn of events! In exchange for not sinking his ship (and crew) to the bottom of German Ocean, Jesper agreed to lead us to his treasure trove... in Norway's Phantom Fjords!

One can only imagine what beasties and ghosties we might encounter in place characterized by such a moniker! Stay tuned!

This adventure of Professor Cornelius Von Fudgington is brought to you by Forge Brand Ventura County Lemons. Forge Brand Ventura County Lemons: the citrus fruit of choice for all manner of smithies. When you you need to refresh after a long day of shoeing derby-winning thoroughbreds, reach for a Forge Brand Ventura County Lemon. Kissed by the sun!

The Search for Mystery: Part I: The Search Begins!

Well, let us begin at the beginning, my Fudgey Friends! Here starts the story of my storied hunt for that anomalous anomaly of the North: The Norwegian Man-Beast. After tracking down Canada's Sasquatch and Nepal's Yeti, I am off to the chilly Arctic Circle to bag the last creature and complete the trifecta of missing-link mythological beings. To aid me in my quest, I have collected and enlisted a diverse group of top-rate roustabouts:

Contessa Bianca Belladonna: This aviatress hales from Palermo, Italy and is a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus himself. As far as exploration goes, her lineage is top notch. She will serve as the eye in the sky on our hunt. Also, she's a crack-shot with a broomhandle Mauser!

Commander Montgomery "Scooter" Steele: Top man in the Secret Service of the Mid-Atlantic States. Sexually and morally ambiguous. Always can be found with a smile on his face and shot of Gordon's in his belly. Was a key player in the discovery of elastic, virtually eliminating my need for sock garters!

Seamus McBootstraps: The World's Longest Longshoreman. After circumventing the globe forty-six times while in the Merchant Marines, Seamus developed a liking for a diet rich in iron. Now he is one of the highest rate strongmen in International Waters, but he must consume three dozen portions of liver'n'onions a day. I once saw him best "Ol' Ironhooks" O'Houlihan in a boxing match utilizing the Queensberry Rules!

Ernest Hemingway: I met this young newspaperman while imbibing deviled corn dogs in New York's Times Square. This kid wants to be a writer of the novel fictions someday. I've invited him along to give him an injection of that old adage: "Fact is stranger than fiction!"

Marv L. (the Mechanical Man): Even though my friend Marv L. has a heart of rusty bolts, he has the soul of a parade of saints. I found this kindhearted wonder of industry on my second journey to the Earth's core. Since our meeting, I've kept him under a dusty sheet in my horseless carriage stables until his services are needed. They are needed now!

Jinlakti Atatukti Mukulukaraukijjambo & Tonyk-Shalamitikiho Alongtoto Mukulukaraukijjambo: I met these two Sherpa brothers on my adventure to find the Yeti in Nepal, but their main claim to fame is their unsuccessful attempt to eat the the thirteenth Dalai Lama. I can't pronounce their names, so I just call them: Gin & Tonic!

Sir P.J.Q. Poppycock: This pint-sized prodigy is the very definition of boy genius. He is currently the dean of Cambridge University, where he also teaches literature and ancient mythology and coaches the rugby squad. Sir Poppycock is the world's foremost expert on Norse legend and he can recite the Kalevala from memory. He's also a first rate percussionist!

Mr. Gherkins: Our mascot!

After a filling meal at the New York Explorer's Club, we are off aboard the RMS Lusitania and bound for the North Atlantic and the fjords of Norway!

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Enough Monkey Business!

Good 'morrow, Fudgingtonites! On this fine day, I am basking in the fine solar rays by that most thorough of thoroughfares: the modern Boardwalk. I am currently sporting the most fashionable of bathing unitards and masticating fashionably on some salt water taffy (unveiled at the Western Hemisphere's Fair of 1906). Since I am enjoying my current atmospheres so much, I am obliged to give you a list of my top half dozen organ grinder tunes. This way you may recreate my Fine Day Formula™ for yourself, in all matters oral, aural and otherwise!

№ 1. Capt. Samuel MacMinniman's "Dueces Wild and Bury the Top Card"

№ 2. Eliza de Ontario's "What Goes Up Must Comes Around Must Go Around"

№ 3. Signor Sergio Sergio's "The Bestest Shave (with a Straight Razor)"

№ 4. "Pop Goes The Weasel"

№ 5. Nicolas St. Harumphrey's "I Left May Sweetie in Wichita Falls"

№ 6. Helena Elenor Farnsworth's "The Boild Turnip Boogaloo"

Take to the Skies!

For many a year, yours truly has made numerous attempts at conquering that unconquerable confounded conundrum of callousness: Human Flight!


Naturally, I have studied the scientifical endeavors of those amicable aviators who have laid the groundwork for my efforts. The annals of history showcase man's reach for the skies all the way back to Mr. Da Vinci's Ornithopter. More recently, many attempts have been attempted. Of course, every good follower of all events current has heard of Monsieurs Felix and Louis du Temple de la Croix's Temple Steam Powered Monoplane (prototype) and Monsieur Alphonse Pénaud's Planaphore. Of course, attempts at flight are not limited to just a bunch of French snail lickers. Many a man of Anglo-Saxon progeny has lifted forth to the skies: Mr. John Joseph Montgomery met his demise on All Hallows Eve in the year of 1911 attempting flight in his glider: the Mighty Evergreen. And who could forget Mr. William Samuel Henson's reach for the clouds on the upward lift of his muttonchops alone!




But this is not some history lesson. If you want one of those, then pick up a book, Bookington! No, I am here to tell you of my own particular endeavors to summit the peaks of invisible mountains of imagination. After several efforts including a glider made from ancient Egyption papyrus (too light), a heli-copter constructed from riveted iron plating (too heavy), wings made of quality Vermont maple syrup (too sticky), and a tailcoat woven with an abundance of live dragonflies (too mate-y), I have come up with the perfect flying contraption: Professor Cornelius Von Fudgington's Uncanny Aero-Gyro-Spyro Skycarriage™ !!!


Alas, dear readers, my plans for the mass production of the Uncanny Aero-Gyro-Spyro Skycarriage™, which would put an Uncanny Aero-Gyro-Spyro Skycarriage™ in the home hanger of every house in the Americas have hit a brick wall. You see, the Uncanny Aero-Gyro-Spyro Skycarriage™ is fueled by a simple mixture of German Dopplebock lager and Weißwurst and a certain someone has a stranglehold on the world's supply of this excellent source of flying energy. That certain someone is none other than current German President Paul Ludwig Hans Anton von Beneckendorff und von Hindenburg:

Now, listen here, Flat Top Tony. I need my flying fuel and I need it now! Your reign of terror over Bavarian brews and brats is about to come to an end. So, all you Fudgington loyalists, put that poison pen to paper and ship some correspondence to President Hindenburg post-haste. Demand that he allow the world to reach for the upper stratospheres in a patented Fudgington Skycarriage™!

Send a handwritten envelope to:

Schloß Bellevue

Attn: President Paul Ludwig Hans Anton von Beneckendorff und von Hindenburg

Spreeweg 1

10557 Berlin

GERMANY

Attention Internets!

Greetings and salutations Future,

It is none other than I, Cornelius Von Fudgington. That's right! The bombastic ballyhoo-er who has certainly graced so many pages of your classroom history books can now be found right here on the modern age's most advanced networking of tin-cans-and-strings: The Inter-Net!

But how could one such as I, who has experienced so many wondrous wondrocities in my day be participating in this particular endeavor? I'm sure many of you young snappers-of-whips are saying to yourselves, "But of course, Professor, you are merely using your patented Motorized Time Traverser™ to propel yourself through both space and time to our modern era of whiz-bangs and iEverythings." But I say to you, little Fudgington Fanclubbers, there is not enough phosphorescent iridium in the world that could power my Motorized Time Traverser™ in so frequent a schedule of travels as I plan to take in writing this here technological e-memoir.

Instead, I have created Prof. Cornelius Von Fudgington's Marvelous Marvel Wire (patent pending). In all intents and principles, this wire operates similarly to dear Mr. Edison's electrical enterprises with one major difference: my Marvelous Marvel Wire (patent pending) has the ability to send messages not through vast amounts of space (such as Cyrus Field's often plagued TransAtlantic Cable), but through time! Now, this wire, when connected to my patented Mechanical Typing Apparatus™ (set up by me in one of my trips to future, in front of the keyboard of one Mr. Macintosh's computing modules), will allow me to communicate with all of you in the space we call cyber.

I have done it! Success! The future is now! In the words of Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse to Mr. Alfred Vail: "What hath God wrought?" Well, the answer, my friends, is that God hath wrought me: Professor Cornelius Von Fudgington!

Sincerest Regards,
C.V.F.