(no subject)
I am writing from Underwater Highway Station No. 82-D, a small glass-dome that connects to the half-tube that runs through the Hadopelagic Ocean along its benthic floor. I can see sharks, metaplankton, and other horrors of the deep, including the 'illuminated clownfish', as Samuel Smiles refers to it. The highway proper(ly) consists of a flat stretch of asphalt with a single series of white stripes running down the center as though pointing the way to my hearty heart's desire and salvation. The glass tube itself is capacious enough for a helicopter to fly through (provided its propellors are first removed)! Periodic billboards invite and entice us to have an Egg McMuffin or a McSprite. My estimate is that we are now eight miles away from Janitor Island, with only 381 kilometers to go to reach the Christmas Island juncture. Fortunately, we have not encountered any motorized, aerial, or submarine land vehicles down here.
Alain, Sally, Samuel, and Maribeth are all beckoning me to continue. Time is short and the distance is long. O, let us remain for but a minute! I exhort p(r/l)e(a)s(e/a)ntly. It was Sally who had serendipitously informed us of this miraculous and utilitarian experimental travelway. Sally lives in the Labyrinth of Bathrooms that serves as the Stuckey's training ground, and she had laid her sleeping bag down one night at the base of the Children's Barbie Toilet. She had dropped her Jaleel White signature Swatch Watch down the commode, and she had been determined to retrieve this valuable treasure (and who could blame her?!), which involved shutting off the water line, decaulking the toilet base, removing the commode proper(ly), and jackhammering through the foundation twenty-five feet deep. She came across an electrically locked steel door with a web-like map of the entire highway (indicating that it did indeed make a determined beeline to the ol' Christmas Island Mental Helth & Wellbeing Institute) the label 'Underwater Highway-Under Construction, but tell your friends anyway' blazed across the door in glorious black ink.
Sally took the label quite literally when she told us about this miracle. "Electronic sliding door?" Master Electrician Samuel Smiles said, his attention grasped tightly by the gripping hand of interest and enthusiasm. Setting aside the fanfiction he was currently authoring, he stood up and proclaimed, "This looks like a job for Alain von Flippiflop!" We all headed over there in a heroic procession, and Alain broke through the door to the Underwater Highway with his t(h)rusty mattock, and one by one we descended into the magic watertube, making sure to purchase pop-sodas and granola bars from the vending machines in the juction room.
Alain, Sally, Samuel, and Maribeth are all beckoning me to continue. Time is short and the distance is long. O, let us remain for but a minute! I exhort p(r/l)e(a)s(e/a)ntly. It was Sally who had serendipitously informed us of this miraculous and utilitarian experimental travelway. Sally lives in the Labyrinth of Bathrooms that serves as the Stuckey's training ground, and she had laid her sleeping bag down one night at the base of the Children's Barbie Toilet. She had dropped her Jaleel White signature Swatch Watch down the commode, and she had been determined to retrieve this valuable treasure (and who could blame her?!), which involved shutting off the water line, decaulking the toilet base, removing the commode proper(ly), and jackhammering through the foundation twenty-five feet deep. She came across an electrically locked steel door with a web-like map of the entire highway (indicating that it did indeed make a determined beeline to the ol' Christmas Island Mental Helth & Wellbeing Institute) the label 'Underwater Highway-Under Construction, but tell your friends anyway' blazed across the door in glorious black ink.
Sally took the label quite literally when she told us about this miracle. "Electronic sliding door?" Master Electrician Samuel Smiles said, his attention grasped tightly by the gripping hand of interest and enthusiasm. Setting aside the fanfiction he was currently authoring, he stood up and proclaimed, "This looks like a job for Alain von Flippiflop!" We all headed over there in a heroic procession, and Alain broke through the door to the Underwater Highway with his t(h)rusty mattock, and one by one we descended into the magic watertube, making sure to purchase pop-sodas and granola bars from the vending machines in the juction room.