Strange Old Man: Eternal pleasures await you… if you can survive the… Adventurer: I’m good, I’m just going to go on home…. Strange Old Man: BUT… come on… pleasure awaits you! Just look! Adventurer: Seriously? There’s a severed hand right there… and an eye ball! Not to mention the faceless guy with a huge sword! I’m going home. Strange Old Man: Awwww….. but…..awwww…..
Ah, Modesty Sheep, there you are! I’ve missed you of late. Now if you you were a bit bigger, say, big enough to cover the entire cover.
At a quick glance this looks similar to yesterday’s cover. But wait, let’s see. Stone woman with pyramid growing out of her navel, faceless man with sword, severed hand(nice attention to detail with the bones) holding an eyeball and a knife. I sense a subtle difference. But they both stink of hippies *sniff sniff*
Ha! I knew it! Smells like patchouli!
Faceless carnifex has his little-finger raised as if he’s taking tea with a duchess. That means that the sword can’t be that heavy. He’d ordinarily need both hands, but his last attempt resulted in the left hand being severed. His former hand has all the fingers the same length, so his grip may not have been that good anyway.
I wonder if this kingdom shouldn’t have put an ad on Gumtree for a replacement executioner, at least until this one stops bleeding so profusely.
If the Administrators of this site don’t have any objections I’ll tell you about the faceless statue that used to sit out in front of the Mount Gidorah Nippon Steak House up on route 3 in Calcium.
It all started out at Tod Bloomwasser’s Hog Farm. One beautiful Spring day, this fellow with out of state plates (Connecticut I think) was just hanging around on the road side of Tod Bloomwasser’s fence just watching Mister Bloomwasser’s champion pig, Loop-de-loo of Porkchop out of Sunstormer, cooling herself off in her private mud hole over near where the Bloomwasser kids used to dump the wormy apples. Well you know how found pigs are of wormy apples!
This out-of-towner must have been real taken with Loop-de-loo because an hour or so later, one of Tod Bloomwater’s hired hands noticed him still hanging around the road side of the fence. I’m sad to report that we used to occasionally get those type of people passing through the North Country on their way to Montreal—if you know what I mean. But anyway, I’m happy to report this stranger wasn’t one of those. No, It seems he was some hot-shot hog investor from North Groversdale, Connecticut and just a few days later he returned with these three other fellows and they all went into the farmhouse to talk to Mister Bloomwasser.
Well, when Tod Bloomwasser came out of the house to see those men to their car—Well, did he ever have a happy look on his face (and a right handfull of papers clutched in his tobacco stained left hand (Tod Bloomwasser was a south paw, but you probably already know that) Mister Bloomwasser had what we used to call a “Smiling like Patrick Totschiessenhoffer” look on his face!
Just for a moment I should tell you a little story about Patrick Totschiessenhoffer. Patrick Totschiessenhoffer loved to eat fish. I mean he LOVED to eat fish. He would eat fish four meals a day and would still raid the refrigerator in the middle of the night for a piece of cold salmon. Eustice Stinklmeier told me (and he should know) that it was all this fish eating that brought on Patrick Totschiessenhoffer’s unusual condition. You see, Patrick Totschiessenhoffer was the only man anyone up in the North Country had ever heard of that attracted sea-lampreys.
The first time any noticed this peculiar affliction was during the Rocky Cove Fishing Derby over in Sacket’s Habor. After spending most of the day in and out of the water, Patrick Totschiessenhoffer finally had what he thought was a blue ribbon catch and so he brought it up to the judging pavilion. Well, you should of seen the faces on all those present! Patrick Totschiessenhoffer’s catch didn’t come even close to the one Eustice Stinklmeier’s grandmother brought in. Goes to show you, doesn’t it? Well, Patrick Totschiessenhoffer didn’t win the blue ribbon just a orange one and he looked a little thinner and really pale (he had his heart set on winning that blue ribbon) and clinging to his waste—his pants always showed his ‘plumber’s crack’ if you follow me. Anyway, clinging to the naked flesh of his waste were two of the chubbiest and healthiest looking sea-lampreys you ever did see in your whole life.
Now that I’ve reminded you of Patrick Totschiessenhoffer’s peculiar condition, I can now tell you how it came that, “Smiling like Patrick Totschiessenhoffer” came to be a proverbial saying up in the North Country.
It was early Summer back in 1974, when they held that famous Musky challenge down in Saint Goosebury. There was no doubt Patrick Totschiessenhoffer was going to get the blue ribbon this time and so up to the judge’s table he strutted like a champion bull at the Port Leyden Junior Farmers Fall Harvest Jamboree and PTA Bake-Sale. He did indeed win the blue with that magnificent 46lb muskellunge! And he was smiling ear-to-ear. Nobody had the heart to tell him that he had five sea-lampreys stuck to his ample back-side.
Now back to the faceless statue that used to be in front of the Mount Gidorah Nippon Steak House up on route 3 in Calcium—just close up to that fence that surrounds the east side of Camp Drum.
It seems those Connecticutites had ideas on bringing up their biggest and most award winning boy pig so he could–as we say in the North Country—’lay down’ with Loop-de-loo. Well unfortunately for the whole of the North Country the blessed event never happened. Thor XXIII of North Groversdale went up and died on those Connecticut hog investor fellows and they had to call the deal off and get their money back. Mayor Tommy Westfalconstein told them in no uncertain words, “Not so fast!” You see, the Mayor had discovered a paragraph in the town charter that stipulated that when someone from outside New York State enters into a contractual state with a farmer living and doing business within the jurisdictional boundaries of our fair community for the purpose of having his pig—he being the someone from outside of the Royal and Blessed Colony of New York–lie down with the pig being the possession of the said farmer living and doing business within the jurisdictional boundaries of our fair community and that contractual ‘obligatee’ does thereafter fail in his obligations to provide with safety and security that aforementioned pig to fulfill its obligation to lie down with a pig born and raised in this Royal and Blessed Colony of New York […]
Well it’s enough to say that in the end, those Connecticut city slickers had to pay our town “one hundred twenty-five full hogsheads of finest clay” And after many legal battles that made their way clear up to the Jefferson County Agricultural Appellate Court our town finally received the required amount of finest clay.
Looking around to find something to do with it, the Town Fathers hit on the idea of hiring local artist Thelma Listeria van Stinkwater to create an eye-catching and hopefully tourist stopping sculpture of our county’s most famous founding citizen–Lord Lieutenant Benjamin Kloustdale von Tinklager und Proastworst–to place in front of the County Information and Ice Cream Stand. Unfortunately, Thelma Listeria van Stinkwater had recently been in the habit of hanging around with this Sturgeon fellow who was selling patent medicine that he made from gasolene and moldy rye up on Arch Street.
The statue only stood in front of the County Information and Ice Cream Stand for three days before it was savagely vandalized—some say by the artist herself.
Later, after some modifications, it was purchased by the owners of the Mount Gidorah Nippon Steak House and placed in front of their establishment up on route 3 in Calcium. There it stood until an accident involving the New Jersey National Guard and the Camp Drum Weapons Training Area. Today, what remains of the statue is being used to fill several potholes on Route 12 near Copenhagen Junction.
The only surviving depiction of this statue (as it was modified by the owners of the Mount Gidorah Nippon Steak House) is an artist rendering now being used as the cover illustration on a book by a Mister Moor Cock, called, “The King of the Swords”
Hmmm, index, middle, ring, and pinkie fingers of the severed hand are all the same length. This artist just lost all credibility with me, unless it is the severed hand of my high school woodshop teacher.
So, we’ve a statue of a giant naked lady with a very phallic staircase plunging into her, and the author is “Moorcock”, not to mention the sword-and-eyeball combo…Freud would’ve had a field day with this one.