| in the beginning... |
[Mar. 3rd, 2006|04:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  pissed off | ] |
| [ | music |
| | clicking laptop harddrive | ] |
For all you fans of Bushwick Billingsworth i have decided to consolidate the entries and begin a separate livejournal for the story... just remember, updates will be at the bottom of the page enjoy!
this morning i awoke to a strange quiet. the usual jungle birds weren't singing their morning songs. i figured something was up under the canopy so i donned my pith helmet, bowie knife, and krag 30-40 and went to investigate.
yes... it was all too quiet...
so i went to investigate... i tangled with brush, small angry mammals, and insects the size of bats. yes, and bats. so i stalked and stalked through the tall weeds... hoping to find whatever it was that caused the big quiet. i heard a large rustling through the dense bushes. i peered through...
there was a something big on the other side... i burst through the shrubs with the fury of a bee stung zulu, and the war cry of a rock dove, and...
drat... it was just the natives chasing a wild boar... so i journyed back into the jungle in search of my prize...
it was out there and i was going to find it... (to be continued...)
-------------------
(continued...)
so i turned back towards the part of the jungle i hadn't explored yet. surely what i was chasing wasn't going to go anywhere near those natives. so i continued aong a path where i noticed some broken twigs and branches and trampled flora. something was moving ahead of me. i could hear a strange low growling and intermittant grunting. i snuck through the ferns and undergrowth.
there it was again, a dark shape cutting through the underbrush. i took aim and fired, once, twice, three, four, five times.
crap! i was out!
luckily i had my trust colt .45 at my hip.
I pulled the gun and gave chase through the thick. faster and faster, branches whipping me in the face, the occasional nicely scented orchid slapping me under the nose. my heart was pounding, and i crashed through dense vines into a clearing where i stopped on my heels...
where the hell did that come from!? i hear a scraping of claws on stone, and hurried to the entrance of the stone temple... figures... a dark long descent into whoknowswhat. down i went, colt at the ready.
out of respect, and to please mother, i removed my pith helmet, ripped up a rag and made a torch and went inside.
i navigated the narrow corridors for what seems like miles, listening to the scraping sounds on the cold floor ahead of me. quietly stalking... waiting to catch a glimpse of the creature i so desperately sought... and i came to a wall. the end of the tunnel... but where was the savage animal... i looked around me, and looked down... wha...what? what is this? could it be?
could it be the dagger of muhumbtel'hu'ock!?! (to be continued...)
-----------------
(Continued)
i exited the temple with the dagger and took the ship back to london. after a long trip and many gin and tonics, i stumbled out of the Royal Academy... someone was waiting for me as i tripped out into the brisk fall imperial night...
it was the other world famous archaeologist/anthropologist/hunter Stehpanie Jones (yes, a Jones...) who i had a brief romance with at a colleagues banquet several years past...
"tough break on not getting the golden mayan lunar calendar at manhoxanxoxa'o. i did leave you some nice jade figures though..."
she was not amused. that whip looked familiar... but that's another story for another time.
to be continued...
|
|
|
| long.winter |
[Mar. 3rd, 2006|03:27 pm] |
it was a long cold winter, with the ground so frozen it was impossible to dig. so i sat back and waited for word on "a strange artifact" that i was searching for. it had been up at auction in london, new delhi, and even turkey, but i had to have it. i knew where i had to go. i recieved word from a doctor in scotland that referred to himself by the strange title of "who".
I lit my last cuban cigar, and hopped a train for the highlands.
two days and thousands of sheep later, i neared the mansion high in the hills above yet more sheep, and loch lanananach.
the train groaned and squealed to a halt. i had arrived... |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
billingsworth's journal