Posted by: austinmilbarge | October 7, 2009

Milieu


My dear Dr. Fitz-Hume.  Fitzy!  Ah yes, Manila is a strange and murky place.  I have been working on this post for several weeks from my cabin deep within the recesses of the Manillan rain canopy.  I have been hunting the wild Thaliana, and dreaming of Mammy in far-off Loganville, GA – oh how I miss her crumpets.  The outlook here is bleak – these natives know nothing of the advancements we’ve made in eating – they still use the rapid oxidation of a combustible material to heat their “food”.  We’ve lost several men to Laurence Irving syndrome – look it up, what a tragedy – travelling down the viscous Namoi river.  Morale is low, what remains of our group lacks the fecundity of those early days at the College of Digestibles.  What I wouldn’t give for one of your detextured omelettes, my friend, the perfect end to a day of micro-nuclear ham desalinization.

Nevertheless, our hunt for the great Thaliana rages on.  We’ve been lucky enough in the past week to witness the Manillan natives capture this great beast by the lorry and deliver them to their great thatched huts.  The whole town, dressed in merkins, gather around the village square and the celebration begins.  The Thalaina is dispatched, wing by freakish wing, and the women, who excel in thatchery (naturally), mash the great beast into a fine meal, hand-shape small amounts of the rudimentary dough and then bake them for what seems like eons.  The result, what we’ve been hunting for all this time, with soul damning verisimilitude?  The most exquisite Manila Wafers you’ve ever tasted, my friend.

I shall see you in the lab shortly – we’ve decided to book several rooms on the QE2 for our voyage home.  Booze cruise!  I shall certainly be knackered by the time I reach the friendly confines of the COD!

Oh, and please stay away from my anti-griddle.  That thing hasn’t been right since the Aloo Gobi incident of aught eight.

Austin

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