huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge

http://www.nytimes.com/uwire/uwire_JUUJ02092007481452.html?ex=1249016400&en=9cd3f1a4c73bf49f&ei=5034

look at the byline.
thats yours truly
im about as happy as a clam in chowder. but really good chowder. new england style. not that nasty manhattan style with the tomato (whose idea was it to put tomato with clams anyways?)
:)

love
Jake

Geeze its been a while...Chapter Three (Finally)

Sorry bout that...schools taking up a lot more time than i thought...hm go figure.
anyways, here it is...chapter three

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In the days that followed, the streets and buildings of Dakar turned into some sort of evil beehive – with evil goats running helter-skelter, willy-nilly. They darted into and out of traffic with a purpose now causing huge traffic jams. Sentries were posted, fortifications were constructed, buildings were scaled. Defenses were erected facing the sea on the north and west sides of the city, since that would be the mostly likely point of attack – the pelicans were dependent on the ocean for their food and to attack from inland would risk overstretching their supply lines. They stole change to use as ammunition and materials in constructing fortifications, causing a huge shortage of small and medium sized coins in Dakar. The battle plan called for negating the eviler pelican’s aerial superiority by luring them to the ground with fish where they could be attacked with horn and hoof and coin. In the air, the eviler pelicans were a fearsome force, but on the ground they were nothing more than dead ducks. So many evil goats running about with such impunity truly was a horrific site to behold.

But alas, not all was well in the evil hoard of evil goats. While the evil seeds of evil goat unity had been sown thanks to the deft leadership of Charles and the wisdom of Boo the Elder, nefarious elements were seeking to undermine the evil structure that had been constructed. The evil curved-horned goats of the Libertés feared. They feared that the eviler pelican’s aerial superiority, combined with their superior protein source, would lead to the swift demise of the evil goat hoards of Dakar. To them, the evil goat defeat was a foregone conclusion, and when it came, there would be little mercy shown to the survivors of the battle. It was an outcome they’d rather not partake in.

Led by Todd from Liberté 3, the curved-horned goats decided that if they were going to partake in this battle, they were going to make sure they were on the winning side. Together, the 21 of them strapped themselves to the roof of a sept-places heading north for St. Louis where they asked for, and received from a somewhat confused warthog, directions to the boat launch that would take them to the roosting grounds of the eviler flock of eviler pelicans, where the evil hoard of evil curly-horned goats hopped into a boat, and began to make their way down the river using pure evil as a surprisingly efficient power source.

When the evil herd arrived at the nesting grounds, fear took over, rendering their evil power source useless. The evil herd just floated helplessly in their boats: the sheer eviler of it all – 21,000 birds just resting on three longish rocks sticking out of the river. Clearly they were up to something. If the evil hoard of evil goats drove the hellish demons from Hell from whence they came down to New Jersey, then the site of 21,000 eviler pelicans drove them further down, from New Jersey to Wisconsin.

The evil curly-horned goats quivered in their evil hooves. Wilbur from Liberté 4 panicked and jumped into the river, forgetting that curly-horned goats don’t know how to swim. He floated in the water, struggling pathetically while the evil herd of evil curly-horned goats in the boat just stood there watching him helplessly. A few eviler pelicans that happened to be flying by landed on nearby trees to watch the pathetic show going on in the river. Wordlessly, and without warning, the pelicans took off at the exact same moment, as if by some form of eviler ESP or mental communication. They dove into the water, using the great bag of their throats to scoop up water, and then flew high up into the air. The eviler pelicans soared around the struggling curly-haired goat, circling him menacingly in perfect military formation in the shape of a V – truly a horrifically terrifying sight to behold. The lead pelican suddenly dove, leading the Flying V, as the formation is called, on a beeline (pelican-line?) straight for Wilbur’s struggling form. At the last second, he pulled up and emptied his throat-load of water straight on Wilbur’s poor head.

One by one, poor Wilbur bobbed up and down in the water as eviler pelican after eviler pelican emptied throat-load after throat-load of water on his head. After the last pelican had emptied his throat-load, Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. He had simply disappeared under the eviler aerial assult. The evil curly-horned goats in the boat stood there, jaws flapping in the wind dumfounded into a terrified silence by the precision with which the eviler pelicans had dispatched of poor Wilbur from Liberté 4.

At last, Todd gathered his evil curly-horned goat chin from the bottom of the boat and spoke somberly. “If anyone of you needed reminding why we’re here today, let that display of pure eviler military superiority be a lesson to you. If we fight the eviler flock of eviler pelicans, make no mistake, we will lose.”

One by one the other evil curly-horned goats collected their jaws and chins and managed to summon up enough evil to take them in close (slowly!) to the eviler flock of eviler pelicans. A hideously eviler pelican landed on the bow of the boat and glared at the evil herd of goats. He was truly a hideous sight: his forehead was lumpy and had wart growing on it. His beak was cracked and rotting and his feathers were mottled with some pelican form of scurvy.

Eugene, from Liberté 2 made eye contact with him. What he saw in the eviler pelican’s eviler eyes was pure eviler – a blacker black than the blackest black; so black it was almost white, and he understood what it meant to be truly and utterly eviler. Immediately and without warning, Eugene was gone, evaporated into nothingness, right there in front of Todd’s own evil eyes. The pelican looked around at the other goats in the boat, but they all refused to look into his eyes, choosing instead to stare fearfully at the marks their jaws and chins had made in the bottom of the boat after Wilbur’s death. At last, Todd spoke. Although he tried to be brave in front of his evil curly-horned companions, the words came out broken and cracked like a mirror, betraying the utter terror that had gripped him like a cold glove. “um, can we leader speak yours?” After a beat, the eviler pelican wordlessly flew off into the eviler flock of eviler pelicans. The curly-horned goats breathed a collective sigh of evil relief after the eviler pelican took off.

As soon as the sigh escaped their collective goat lips, the manifestation of eviler landed on the bow of their boat and it was thrown back into their evil goat faces – not metaphorically or figuratively, but the eviler pelican leader actually caught the sigh in the air with his eviler throat bag and threw it back in their faces. A few curly-horned goats fainted, and Albert from Liberté 1 fell backwards into the water where he was promptly eaten by a morally ambiguous but very hungry crocodile who welcomed the introduction of something other than eviler pelicans into his watery domain.

Santa, the eviler pelican leader, truly was the physical manifestation of eviler. If you dared to even look at him, he was a gorgeous bird, large and magnificent; his feathers a brilliant white hot. On his forehead (if you risked looking into his eviler eyes) a blood red streak ran from in between his eyes back down his neck. The tips of his wings (I suppose you could call them fingers if you choose) were as black as a wet raincoat. But perhaps the best way to describe Santa is silent. Yes, the magnificent bird spoke not a word, and yes when he flew he would descend noiseless as the night sky upon his hapless victim, but Santa exuded silence like a black hole – sucking in everything around him and rendering it completely and utterly devastated – physically, emotionally, and morally. His mere presence (not to mention the very sight of him) was enough to drive the demon spirits further into hiding – from Hell from whence they came to Camden, New Jersey, on to Wisconsin, and now further down into – to Quebec.

Todd’s mind was immediately filled with dread, covered like a wet sponge, and he knew that Santa was inside his mind. Todd understood that Santa knew his cowardice and why he was there. Todd regretted giving up the secrets of the evil goat hoards defenses in Dakar, he regretted betraying his brethren. And then Todd understood that his curly-horned herd did not belong with Charles and Lou and Boo and all the other straight-horned goats. And then black, a blacker black than the blackest black, so black that it was almost white. And then everything and nothing and a little bit of something all at once.

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Thats all for now...enjoy the next installment sometime soon!
Love,
Jake