Folks,

Dux:

Words and bladder usually fail me at a time like this. For weeks now only one thought has kept me alive, one thought kept me pressing onward. That sustaining thought was of me with my fingers closing viselike about your traitorous throat while C51 takes an axe to every aged barrel of Pouritt & Sypp in the HWH cellar. You swine, how could you turn the tables on us.... before we could turn them on you? That new beermaid had better be amazing. India is a delightful place to have visited. Her ancient cities and temples are a wonder to behold. The people are warm and friendly, the dry season in the higher elevations is tolerable and the food was simply amazing. Right, it is damn good to be home.

Dr. Patooie and the entire village are both revenged and saved from future insult. They have the largest, best equipped non-flyable air force within several miles in any direction of the Chyber pass. That's right, no one can actually fly the planes and they are in fact tethered by steel cables to several stout palm trees.

After we three buzzed their homes at tree top level in our Spits the terrified neighboring villagers are no longer going out and relieving themselves upstream when the Patooie crowd goes bathing. Here's what happens. Trained Patooie villagers go out and start the engines of the tethered Spitfires 15 minutes before bath time. Just the sound of those big Merlin engines reverberating along the banks of the river empties every bladder in the next village instantly. Presto, it is safe to go bathing. The other village stinks a bit but no one actually gets hurt.

It is true that we have endured many hardships, carried many burdens, drunk many gallons of fermented goat milk, suffered much internal distress and finally accomplished our mission to return home delirious with our triumph.

Payment was duely received however events beyond our control forced us to spend it all booking passage home. Olga did her part by selling herself many times as we made our way to the coast. At some point C51 had to explain that she should not be paying the gentlemen herself and that it should be the other way 'round. In the end, we had just enough rupees for third class tickets on a good luxury liner.

I am sorry to report that the mighty HMS Incapable went down with all flags flying and all hands waving after striking a large rowboat off the eastern coast of Africa. Bad news for us, even worse news for them. Stranded, we searched the sailing reports and contacted every steamship line we could find. No luck. All ships were already laden down with devout pilgrims making their way to an obscure island off the coast of Java where it was said that a woman had opened a large tropical fruit and found that the seeds had formed a perfect likeness of Kali.

Faced with no alternative, we booked immediate passage on the only vessel that we could afford and the truly devout would not touch with a ten foot long man of Polish descent, a rust encrusted cattle boat of Argentine registry. And thus we returned home cradled in the indefinable (didn't that sink a week ago?) comfort and luxury of said vessel via the straits of Gibraltar. Straits? Were they ever crooked?

May your wrinkled arse be chewed off by unclean hyenas, you have no way of knowing how much more pleasant our journey was made by having a disguised Olga tagging along. While her piloting skills were excellent, she smelled to high Heaven, was usually drunk, always horny, always heart-sick and pining away for you. Mercifully there were many amenable bulls aboard the cattle boat and that provided the necessary daytime sexual diversions to keep Olga well exercised during daylight and sleeping comfortably through most of the nights. Only this allowed C51 and myself some modicum of relief during the return voyage. And may I add, no thanks to you.

A Personal note:

No need to alert the media C51, they would be totally underwhelmed, however it appears that on the last day of this month, Friday, we will meet or exceed 10,000 hits in 30 days on this old thread. Dux is British, C51 is a Canadian and I am an American. Divided as we three are, by a common language, I sometimes wonder if anything written here makes any sense or seems humorous to anyone but me. It tickles me of course...all of it. I don't think Dux could write his name without making me laugh and C51's wry and somewhat jaundiced outlook on life is always a treat. We have all three somehow blindly stumbled among friends here. I do look back on the past six and a half years and wonder what is this invisible glue that binds us together?

Nothing typed on HWH is meant to be or should be taken too seriously. At least nothing that I write. Life is however a serious business. No one gets out of it alive. Yet without death life would not be held so dear. Everyone has problems, everyone knows sorrow and pain and I believe everyone can always benefit from a good laugh. I am not a doctor and I don't even play one on TV however IMHO laughter is the best broad spectrum medicine you can still get for free. It is my hope that something written here will brighten a reader's day every day. If so, for me, nearly seven years of daily typing pure nonsense on SNAFU's never ending thread has been more than worthwhile.

OK, C51 is rolling his eyes and making rude noises and Dux is holding his nose. Either C51 has gas or I'm being much too serious. Time to hit the sack and call it a night.