That was indeed a cracking tale of yours, put together so well at a time when there were so many other contributers.
The Transylvanian gothic storage vaults that hold the HWH manuscripts impart not only a fine ageing environment for the untold gallons of fine wines stored there, but also hold some magical properties that seem to mellow and improve the quality of our joint scratchings. One can feel the tangible presence of SNAFU, C51, Bader, Grief, McGonigle, Zerosan, Osram, Mad, and our valued newest contributor HK among many others as I thread my way through the mouldering parchments. Perhaps you can remind me of others JRT. I know their names are recorded on the pillars somewhere around here but there are now too many empty bottles behind me and I grow weary of beating off the demonic featured bats that seem to grow bigger by the minute.
Suddenly, a shapeless heap appears in the gloomy vault. I hold the candle higher and can now make out a human figure of sorts slumped over a barrel of our best Madiera. Something glitters on this bulbous mass....a red star supported by a short length of ribbon. It stirs. Pudgy arms stretch out. Slobbering lips gasp a drunken entreaty....'Duxeee....bebe'...but before the ensuing belch and fart can rebound off the opposite wall I have departed...in abject terror.
'Find your enemy and shoot him down - everything else is unimportant.'
