Post #6 made 10 years ago
by Skink
The Chronicles of Skink, Son of Skunk, Part 2 - The Search for Excellus.
Greetings, Brothers of the Closely Woven Fabric; the time hast come to tell you more of the trials and tribulations of Skink, son of Skunk. I feel compelled to tell you more of his journeys, since at least two of the brethren here are still reading this drivel – I canst only assume they need to get out more.
When we left our brave, intrepid and arseless hero, he was climbing the lofty steps that didst lead into the inner sanctum of Castle BIAB, confident that he wouldst be admitted – but no! He wast met at the top of said steps by the all-powerful King Pistol Patch (may the sun eternally shine on his loins and his toast always land butter side up), who raised a forbidding and malt-stained hand.
'Halt, brave sirrah!' didst the King say, 'I fear I cannot admit you.'
Skink, son of Skunk, didst wring his hands and gnash his eight teeth. 'But why, my good King,' he didst say. 'What have I done that forbiddeth me?'
'It is not what thou hast done, arseless one,' didst the King say, 'But what thou hast failed to do. When thou didst sendeth word to me that you wished to be admitted to our honourable guild of the Closely Woven Fabric, you failed to bring me an Excellus – without this, your words meanest nothing to me. They are as meaningless as the chatterings of a monkey, or the promises of a politician.'
'Aiee!' didst Skink, son of Skunk, say. 'And what, O great King, is this Excellus?'
'It is a thing,' didst the King reply.
'And what does this...thing look like?' asketh the arseless one.
'It dost look like nothing, because it dost not truly exist.'
'Riiight...,' sayeth Skink slowly, and turned away; hadst the King been sniffing too many of the powerful, mind-bending hops that the twelve-toed nuns of Delirium grewest on the fabled Isle of Cocainicum?
It was clear that the interview with the King was at an end, and Skink left with a heavy heart. For eight days he didst wallow in his misery, drinking in lowly taverns and consorting with lowly women – he didst even do his back in, spending all that time being lowly. At one stage, he even didst consider travelling to the twin towers of Castle Beerkit, where the hermaphroditic brother-lovers Baron Cooper and Baroness Woodforde hadst often offered our arseless hero refuge.
But then, on the ninth day, he did lifteth himself from his lethargy, and set out to find this fabled Excellus. He didst travel far and wide, through deserts and forests, across rivers and oceans, covering every inch of the Northern, Southern, Eastern and Western Realms, and even the one in the middle that no-one had ever thought up a catchy name for. On his journeys, he wast joined by a swarthy, foul-mouthed and acne-ridden mercenary called Captain Ludd, who promised to help him, as long as it didst not entail getting involved 'In any of that tecchy crap.'
And then, it didst come to pass, after two years of drought, famine, and avoidingeth getting splattered by the viscous goo that didst propel through the air when Captain Ludd wast popping his zits, our intrepid (?) hero didst come to a wide, arid valley, where impossibly handsome peasants and wenches didst ride top-of-the-range horses, kept strange coiffured pets called labradoodles, and referred to a wench called Anna List, whomst they all seemed to own. And the name of this valley wast Silly Kon, and it wast controlled by an evil overlord called Bilious Gatesicus.
It didst take two months to be granted an audience with the corrupt and powerful overlord, but it wast to be in vain. Skink, son of Skunk, didst humble himself before the great man, and didst ask him if he could tell him where to find the Excellus that he didst quest for.
'Ah, yes,' didst say the overlord, 'I can helpeth you with that. Getteth your people to talk to my people, and when the correct money hath changed hands, I am sure we can do business.'
'Aiee' cried Skink, 'How can this be, Lord Bilious? How canst thou ask me for money? I am Skink, son of Skunk, renowned throughout the Four Realms, and also the one that no-one hast ever thought up a catchy name for, as not having an arse in my trousers!'
'I do not care about the state of your trousers!' thundered the evil overlord. 'I am like all of the inhabitants of this arid valley – I care only for money, and making more of it, and my top-of-the-range horse, and my Labradoodle, and my Anna List!'
'Who is this wench?' Skink didst cry. 'How can you all own her?'
'What are you talking about?' Lord Bilious didst cry.
(At this point, Captain Ludd, who hadst been looking on quietly, didst cry 'I cannot be dealing with this shite!', and didst run away into the night. He later became famous in both the Western and Northern Realms for inventing a counting machine called the Luddite Abacus, and wast listed on the Western And Northern Commodities Index. You work out the acronym).
And so, Skink was forced to leave empty handed and alone. He continued his travels, which led him first to search out a wench that he had beenst told about called Princess Libre. She, too, wast to prove a blind alley, but an interesting one.
'Ah, handsome sirrah,' she didst say, 'I cannot helpeth you with your quest for the Excellus. But, pray, why dost thou not tarry for a while?'
And, forsooth, Skink didst tarry with her – four times a night, for three days. After all, what red-blooded man couldst resist the attentions of a pretty Princess when she spreads her sheets for him?
Having left her behind (and, yea, her front as well), Skink didst next search out the legendary Sir Bobbrews; said Knight had once been King Pistol Patch's trusted advisor, until he had tried to set up The Holy Guild of the Sacred Tap, which hadst led to him being exiled from the Royal Household. Skink didst find him in a shabby hovel on the edge of Northern Realm, which he didst describe as his Garage.
'My God, buddy,' didst say the venerable Knight, 'Don't be fussin' yourself with this Excellus crap. Pistol Patch ist a charlatan, and a megalomaniac! It's all a bucket of horse shite! Make it up as you go along, buddy. Watch!'
The venerable Knight didst then proceed to perform a crazy dance over his bubbling cauldron, throwing in a handful of this and a handful of that, with no regard for weights or measures, while pirouetting like a demented ballerina. It wast not, it has to be said, a pretty sight.
And, so, didst Skink, son of Skunk, continue on his futile quest.
But then, just when he was about to give up – his trousers were now not just arseless, but practically back-of-the-thigh-less, and the wind whistling round his meat and two veg was almost unbearable – he came upon a strange monk named Des Carty, in the mountains that separated the other Realms from the one without a catchy name.
'What troubles you, my son?' said the monk, which troubled Skink – he hadst always thought his father wast a chartered accountant with a passion for dragon-spotting. Something about the monk intrigued him, however, and he told him about his quest.
'Ah, you poor child,' didst say the monk, which also troubled Skink – as far as he couldst remember, he was forty seven. 'The Excellus is not a thing thou canst find in a desert, or a forest, or even in a valley full of souped-up horses and Anna Lists.'
'Aiee,' said Skink, 'So there is more than one Anna List?'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
The monk didst frown, but then continued. 'No, the Excellus is within thee – search your inner files, and thee willst find what thou is looking for.'
It wast then Skink's turn to frown. 'That dost sound like philosophical mumbo-jumbo to me. Next thing, thou will be telling me I think, therefore I am.'
With that, the monk didst jump into the air, and cry 'You reek – ah!', which caused Skink to sniff under his arm; it hadst been a while since he hadst had a bath. The monk, meanwhile, was running around in circles, shouting 'Yes! Yes! That is the answer! At last, I have the answer to the meaning of life!'
But then, to Skink's surprise, the monk didst stop, and scratcheth the bald patch on top of his head. 'Whoa, holdeth on,' he didst say, 'It can't be as simple as that. I don't think...'
And, promptly, he didst disappear.
Skink didst search high and low and in the middle for the monk, but he could not be found. So he didst return to Castle BIAB, a long journey of deepest deprivation across mountains, plains and boggy bogs, surviving only on the droppings of the much-maligned BigMac bird, which didst causeth him a severe dose of acne and Dellius Bellius, which is not a pretty sight when one hasn't an arse in one's trousers. And, when he didst ascend the long, twisting steps leading to the inner sanctum (which was a painful experience with a rash on your bum), he was met by the venerable King (may the...yeah, you know the rest).
'Greetings, brave Skink,' didst the King say, 'Have you, pray tell...cor, what's that bloody smell?'
'It is nothing, oh great one,' Skink didst say. 'I have found the Excellus – it was inside me all the time!'
And the King didst smile. 'Well done, brave Skink – you have solved one of life's great mysteries, and you mayest proceed to the next stage. Thou can maketh your first brew. But have a bloody shower first.'
FOOTNOTE – For anyone still reading this rubbish, maybe I should give a little bit of background (which is a bit like putting on a condom after having sex, but there you go). When I originally submitted my file for an ESB, it wasn't in xls format, for which PP rapped my knuckles (in the nicest possible way, of course). Try as I might, I couldn't get Microsoft Word to work, and spent many windswept knights (oops, sorry, nights) burning effigies of Bill Gates on lonely mountainsides. Eventually, however, I found an old file in xls format, which I wiped clean and started again, so now we're finally ready to go. And I'd also like to point out that no mind-bending drugs were consumed whilst composing this utter horse dung (only large quantities of tea, home made wine – made admittedly, from some strange-coloured mushrooms that I found growing on the carcase of a small rabbit – and nicotine) – it actually just flows out of me, a bit like a certain brown substance that our hero was afflicted with.
And if you're wondering why Number 7 didn't join Skink on his legendary quest, he had to bring his wife to see the mother in law in Bognor Regis.
. We hope to hear more chronicles from Skink.]
. Great read mate 
. I hope you post another chronicle every time it tickles your fancy.
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,
. (I'm scratching my head btw, not my bottom 
