Every Time I Write a Post, Rambelina Lives Again

Zinger's giving me a hard time about not posting yet today, so I figured I'd better get something up. Unfortunately, it's one of those "allergies are making me fuzzy-headed" sort of days, so I'm drawing a blank in terms of what to post. Well, to be more accurate, I have lots of ideas of what to post, but none of them are coming together coherently when I try to type them up. So, since I'm having trouble being coherent, I thought I'd post something that was incoherent on purpose: an email I once sent out to the SXSF Book Monkeys during a time when Rebel Monkey (then going by The Wiz) had been inundating our mailboxes with entertaining, if rambling, emails quite frequently. On this occasion, she had sent an email stating that she would be away from her computer and unable to entertain us for the afternoon. I, not having CoIM as an outlet for my oddness at the time, composed the following bit of randomness.


Rambelina

And it came to pass that one afternoon a young lad sat morosely in his work cubicle, on the verge of succumbing to the rigors of terminal boredom, when Lo! A fairy appeared before him.

“Greeting, my fine fey friend!” exclaimed the lad. “Have you come bearing a message regarding socks or other footwear-related items*?”

“Nay,” proclaimed the fairy, “you are thinking of my cousin, Bowl-Wing, patron of the pins.”

“My apologies,” proffered the young one. “Then who, pray-tell, are you?”

“I am Rambelina, queen of the rambling, nonsensical (and possibly psychotic) emails, and I desperately need your help!” declared the winged one.

“My help?” inquired the boy. “But whatever for? How could a lowly library worker such as me aid a mystical being such as yourself?”

“I live off the energies generated by off-the-wall emails and the puzzlement they create,” explained Rambelina, “and I am afraid if you do not aid me quickly then I shall surely expire ere midnight falls.”

“But why now?” wondered the youngster. “What strange events have transpired that make today so different from any other?”

“It is because the one known as 'Rebel Monkey' has left work early today,” sobbed the pixie. “After a tsunami of surreal missives and the resultant surfeit of confusion and chaos they generated, the sudden deficit is like a hole in my heart. Withdrawal from the wit of the Wiz weakens my wondrous wings while wreaking wreckage on my winsome well-being.”

“Boy, that’s a lot of alliteration” admired the twenty-something male. “But I still don’t see how I can help. I have not the gift for puzzling epistles that the one once known as ‘Joe Rhymer’ possesses.”

“True,” admitted the fair one, “but even your borderline psychosis is better than none at all. Help me, and I promise you that I shall do all in my power to insure that you are never forced to wear a boa against your will**.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” cried the thankful one.

“And above all else, remember this,” added the preternatural one. “The cyclopean Sasquatch juggles protein markers while gargling sugarwater.”

“That . . . that made no sense whatsoever,” blurted the one-who-was-not-quite-30-yet.

“Exactly,” whispered the spritely one, “exactly.”


*This was a reference to an email Rose Hips had sent out to our group in which she described a "dream" involving a fairy obsessed with bringing extra socks for bowling; long story.
**This was a reference to Bunny's oft-stated decree that she was going to buy me a boa to dance with; even longer story.