Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Return of Gork

Dear Readers,

I've been through a lot in the last 6 months. I'm sure there are few words that can convey my sincerest apologies for not writing to you, but I must try. I can barely live with myself knowing my readership is out there thinking I'm dead, or worse.

I'm not going to mince words here. I've been living in a home for the mentally ill for the last half-year. Before you get ahead of yourselves, no, I am not "crazy". My story is a bizarre one, but if you bear with me, I think you'll understand, and with a little luck, you might even admire me. Here is my story:

I will start by telling you that I am, and have been for many years, the proud master of 3 beautiful Emporer Tamarins (if you dont know what an ET is, go here: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/27/Emperor_Tamarin_portrait_2_edit1.jpg) I have 2 males, Scribbles and Beanjo, and a female named Dawson's Creek. Despite their rambunctiousness and general recalcitrant nature, they are excellent life companions. Anyways, some 13 months ago, Beanjo went missing. I soon found out that my neighbor had set a series of monkey traps up in his yard to keep my babies from destroying his prized hydrangea bushes, which they had a surprising propensity for. Well, short story long, Beanjo became entangled in one of these rather inhumane monkey traps and severely injured one of his wrists. As you might imagine, I became enraged and took my neighbor's life. As you probably don't further imagine, the judicial machine saw this as an overreaction.

As an unlicensed, untrained legal know-it-all, I naturally represented myself in court. I quickly realized that the judger was no lover of Tamarins and was leaning towards convicting me for homicide (I know, right?). That's when I pulled a slick legal maneuver and played the crazy card. After showing the jury some of my writings and even a few excerpts from this very column, I successfully tricked them into believing I was bonkered. You and I both know the score...I'm no more crazy than anybody else, but I had to do it.

Judge Elper Goldfax sentenced me to an indefinite stay at the local insanitarium house, where I was not allowed to practice any form of fake medicine. Hence, the discontinuity in this column. I am now free, living life to its half-fullest every day, and caring for Scribbles, Beanjo, D's.C., and I'm happy to announce that the three of them have produced a bouncing baby girl that has yet to be named. Any suggestions? I'm leaning towards something like "Monkey Trap" or "Injustice" in honor of my recent ordeal. I look forward to catching up on the endless backlog of reader submissions and can't wait to tackle your new problems. Oh, and get out there and shop!


The New and Improved Gork VanDonsler, PhB

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