On Geysers and Fountains

Dear Mr. OR,

I have witnessed a most terrifying event. Even now as I sit here to write to you I can still see it in my minds eye. The evening was no different than any other. My wife was wondering around the house doing chores, the Beast in its customary spot on her hip. My chores finished I was sitting down to a nice relaxing cup of tea and a fine book. My wife wandered over to sit next to me when The Beast unleashed its attack. The Beast convulsed once, twice, three times and geysered forth a white, sticky foul smelling substance onto my wife’s torso. I jumped up depositing my hot tea into my lap and spent the next several seconds trying uselessly to pull steaming hot cloth away from legs while blowing at an area of my body that my head was never meant to get close enough to blow on. All the time I'm doing this my wife is running around the house yelling at the top of her lungs grabbing for anything she can wipe the goop off with. My pants now quite chilly and uncomfortable against my slightly boiled legs I ran for the nearest set of paper towels all the time wondering if the vile concoction might be poisonous or perhaps acidic. Who knows what such a vile creature can produce from deep down in its bowels.

Finding the paper towels I ran to my wife’s aid who had so far drenched one curtain and one bath towel with the foul substance. As I handed my wife the towel The Beast wound up and fired again. This time the liquid flew in a not so graceful arc getting part of my wife’s back and most of my shins and shoes. Now we're both going through paper towels as quick as we can. Wiping down ourselves and our precious belongings that are getting splattered. I am happy to say that the concoction was not acidic. At least not with sufficient strength to eat through wood, fabric or flesh with any kind of rapidity. After this second bout my wife got very smart and when the third one came she was ready: tipping the little monster to the side forcing it to spray the goo straight down onto the floor. Unfortunately the Beast had a second card to play.

Before either of us realized what the Beast had in store it unleashed attack number two. My wife suddenly grabbed the beast with her left hand and threw her right hand (the one that had previously been holding the Beast) out to the side as if she had been stung. There in the middle of her forearm and all down the beasts back was a large brown spot. My wife laid the Beast down in the middle of the carnage and began removing its clothes. Did I mention that my wife has taken to dressing the Beast like a little human? I don't understand why but it has bothered me less than one might suppose as I have seen several old ladies on our street dressing there small dogs much the same way. Indeed the female psyche is something that I will never fully comprehend.

The Beasts cloths now removed we were able to determine the source of the brown spot. This was no mystery liquid. This was the same foul soilage that my wife had threatened to rub on my chair back many weeks ago. It seems that fate has a sense of humor. Being a somewhat sharp witted man the idea came to my head instantly and I almost burst into a fit of laughter there on the spot but there is no telling what my wife would have done once she learned the nature of my mirth. Indeed I would not be surprised to find myself wearing a fair amount of the brown substance at the end of that exchange.

The most disturbing part; however, was that the Beast was bubbling this liquid sludge up from its protective wrappings like a fountain or hot spring. The splatter marks reached up to the Beasts arm pits and ran down in lines. A small pool was collecting all around its posterior. My wife charged for the bathroom. I turned on the water and in seconds The Beast, half of my wife, myself, most of the bathroom, and The Beasts protective covering were all doused in a spray of water. I switched the bathtub over from shower to bath, my wife took off the Beasts protective clothing all the while yelling things at me that I neither care to relate nor remember as I was not listening. Within seconds the Beast was plunged into the bath and the scrubbing began. My wife being the more soiled scrubbed the Beast while I held it in various poses and contorted positions.

The rest of the night was spent recleaning many of the things we had spent cleaning that afternoon. Then showers and finally in the very early hours of the morning the Beast having tried several more times to cover us in more white liquid was unable to bring anymore forward and so gave up and decided it was time to go to sleep. My wife and I agreed and off we went to sleep.

It was a harrowing experience. But we managed to survived. Even the Beast is quite chipper this morning despite its failed attack on my personage. The windows and door to the house are open and I'm certain the cool breeze will blow out much of the still sour smelling air. And now I am off to read the book I had intended to start last night. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Vacations

Dear Mr. OR

Please forgive my tardiness once again in sending my communication to you but I have been on a bit of a vacation. And what a vacation it was. As I'm sure you can imagine the wife demanded that The Beast come along and this is where my latest adventure begins.

For once I was not against bringing The Beast along. I mean if we left it at the house who knows what could happen. The Beast could burn the house down and when I got home all my prized possessions would be nothing more than ash. That would never do. The Beast had to come. However, as is always the case with my wife, we were bringing a lot of equipment with us and space in our vehicle was limited. Being the quick thinking person that I am I quickly came up with a plan. Running to my garage I came back with a length of rope and quickly began strapping The Beast firmly to the top of our car. Well, you would have been impressed with the fit that my wife threw. I had thought that I was being generous as my first thought was to tie The Beast to my bumper and drag it along behind us.

After several minutes of heated discussion my wife disappeared back into our house and returned with one of our expensive if somewhat ineffective torture devices. I must admit I was quite confused and still am a bit befuddled at this turn of events but ever since The Beast arrived my wife has acted more and more erratic with each passing day. My wife quickly busied herself strapping The Beast into this tiny Rack like device which did not make The Beast happy in any sense of the word. Indeed The Beast screamed so loudly that my ears began to ring as if I'd spent an hour at the firing range. This having been accomplished she stuffed The Beast on the rack in the back seat of the car. This having been done my wife made it clear she was now ready to leave so off we went.

The Beast screamed most of the way to the beach before finally passing out. I shall have to pay closer attention next time to how my wife used the torture device as it apparently works for her. Once at the beach my wife and I pulled all of our stuff including The Beast out of the car and made our way to a free spot on the sand. My wife revived The Beast and removed it from the rack. I argued a little at first until my wife reminded me of all the people around and stated that she didn't want us to look like savages. I conceded and instead took The Beast and began heading for the water. Just at the edge of the waves I was stopped by the lifeguard. Apparently I am not aloud to have The Beast near the water without some kind of floatation device. It was at this point that my wife came running up holding a couple of inflated orange donut devices. At first I wasn't sure how to attach them. Then I realized that the hole in the donut is just about the same size as The Beasts neck. So without hesitation I strapped one on and brought the beast out to where it could float peacefully without hitting the bottom and there it sat, its head just above the waves bobbing like some strange cork.

The strangest thing; however, is that everywhere we went there were people looking at The Beast and smiling. Several people asked if they could take The Beast home with them. I couldn't believe it. When I finally regained my composure I quickly offered The Beast to them but each time they laughed and headed on their way. Perhaps they didn't think I was serious. So I began a small auction but just as a decent crowd was gathering and I was about to start the bidding the lifeguard came by again and informed me that I needed a permit to hold auctions in that location. I didn't have a permit. Now why so many people would want a Beast of their own or my Beast for that matter eludes me. The only thing I can think of is that there must be a market for Beast fur. I came to this conclusion because nearly everyone who stopped remarked on the color of our Beasts fur. You see our Beast has red fur which is apparently fairly rare. So it is to that end that I have bought a pair of clippers and shorn our Beast. I now have a small amount of red Beast fur for sale. Unfortunately our Beast does not have much hair as of yet but given that it is so rare I can imagine that I'll still get a decent price. So for now I am off to make a sign to put in my front yard. Red Beast Hair for sale. Get it while supplies last.
I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Ownership and Accusations

Dear Mr. OR,

The strangest thing has been happening around the Lumpy residence lately. It began with a new attempt at spot concentration as you had suggested earlier. The Beast has taken to doing everything in its power lately to make noise. Now as you well know the Lumpy does not handle noise very well. So too settle myself down and find a quite happy place I took a seat in my favorite chair and looked for a spot on my wall. I have in fact been practicing this process while in my box at work and have gained some proficiency with the technique. Upon finding the spot I concentrated until the whole rest of the world went away. It was wonderful. I found myself surrounded by pleasant thoughts of... Anyways.

What I failed to realize is the vulnerable position that this puts me in. I was in fact ripped from this happy place by the solid thump of The Beast plummeting from a distance above my head directly onto my lap. Needless to say I was shocked. When did The Beast learn to fly? I had never even seen it walk on its own much less soar around the room. And then the noise came flooding in like tidal wave and I quickly became aware of Mrs. Lumpy standing next to me shouting at the top of her lungs. At first I was so upset about the onslaught of noise that I had difficulty making out what she was saying but with another second or two I would be totally flabbergasted. Here stood my wife, my darling bride, Mrs. Lumpy, who had warned me of the upcoming invasion, yelling at the top of her lungs how The Beast was My Beast. In fact she accused me of desiring one of these little monsters and then went so far as to say that I had been petitioning for one and actively attempting to locate one. Why the idea was so preposterous that I didn't think it required comment. How absurd that any man leading a quiet life style full of leisure and intellectual activity would actually seek out the demise of his cherished life style by employing a monster. I dare say that if anyone invited The Beast it would have to be Mrs. Lumpy. Why she told me of The Beast before I even new there was such a thing. Of course pointing this fact out to her only enraged her further.

In the end Mrs. Lumpy decided she was going to sit in my favorite chair and forced me to carry The Beast around the house in the hope that we could get it to stop making so much noise. For a second it occurred to me that this would be an opportune time to begin working with the devices of torture I had spent so much money on but alas they are in the same room as my beloved chair and my wife would never allow such activity within her presence. The only good I can say came from all of this is that I had time to think and begin plotting my next move. I will write shortly to discuss the outcomes. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On the Aerodynamics of Gruel

Dear Mr. OR,

I have not as of yet relinquished myself to sacrificing my pocket book in order to gain the time alone with The Beast necessary for a thorough interrogation. I am in fact hoping to hold out until some major sail so as to minimize the damage.

I happened to have a visit from my in-laws lately. As you remember I find this an excellent time to sleep thereby thwarting The Beasts nightly sleep deprivation schemes which are still going on. However, this time I was not able to take my customary nap immediately as my in-laws who happen to work with the Red Cross had several things to say to me in regards to my tiny prisoner. I was able to answer most of their questions satisfactorily if somewhat dishonestly. After all The Beast has been far to cunning for me to figure out much at all about it or how it is doing. I was; however, rather stumped by the question of food. I don't recall having ever fed The Beast anything. And since it could not have survived so long without food I'm certain that my wife must have been sneaking it meals. Of course this was not ok with my in-laws or the Red Cross as they feel that I must obey the Geneva Convention and make sure that The Beast gets food. Not wanting to be inhumane I agreed and so off I went to retrieve the makings for a thick gruel.

I had only two criteria. First it must not be very palatable and second it must not fly through the air well. I had no desire to clean gruel for hours after an enraged Beast decided to throw it around the room. I had expected to have some difficulty but as it turns out there has been an epidemic of these little intruders that for many years I was largely oblivious too. Consequently there was an abundance of gruel around for the choosing in various quantities and prices. Indeed I had no idea there was such a market for foul tasting glop. Quickly picking one, shopping is not one of The Lumpys favorite activities, I checked it out and hurried home. As I arrived the in-laws were on their way out the door but informed me that they would be coming back in a day or two to see how the feeding was going. So much for my nap.

Once inside I busied myself around the kitchen preparing the gruel much to the delight of my wife who I think was happy she would not need to sneak The Beast so much food anymore. I cooked and stirred till it was just the right consistency and then let it cool. With the in-laws coming in a day or two I can't risk having a singed Beast or I may be taken before the international court on war crimes charges. Once cooled I began feeding The Beast my concoction. At first it ate hungrily. I could tell that I had picked the right one as despite The Beasts hunger it still forced half of each mouthful out onto its chin making faces all the while. I was so relieved that I failed to see the glint in its beastly eyes. In a moment when I was slightly distracted The Beast made a ptlblblblblblblbbl sound and I was covered by bits and pieces of gruel. I was quite upset as gruel does not clean out of clothing well but I was even more curious as to how The Beast had accomplished this. Gruel is not very Aerodynamic. I checked both of The Beasts hands but could not find any device. Tipped it forward, left, right, upside-down, checked the bottom of its feet. Nothing.

Tomorrow I shall keep a closer watch and see if I can find where it has hidden its little device but for now I must go and clean the rest of the gruel out of my hair. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Shockwire, Antenna, and Spots.

Dear Mr. OR

We have located your letter and have attached it to the back of this note. We thank you for your patience in this matter.
Thank you,

John Smith,
Post Master

Dear Mr. OR,

I am sorry to inform you that my wife and I are not on the happiest of terms right now. I'm sure this hardly comes as a surprise given the amount of control that the beast has begun to exhibit in her life. I'm afraid I have much to relate especially given the amount of suggestions you've sent me recently.

First and foremost you have no idea how hard it can be to find livestock shock wire around here. You see there isn't much call for that out here in the city but a nice drive out to the country seamed like an excellent idea. I was on my way out the door when my wife surprised me from behind carrying the beast. In deed I see them so often standing in that fashion that I've begun to wonder if the beasts bottom has grown into my wife’s hip. I certainly hope that this is not the case. More research on that will be necessary. Where was I? Ah yes. My wife demanded that she and the beast come along. It seams that the beast thrives on fresh air and there simply isn't enough of it around our house. The usual argument ensued and once again it was apparent that she was coming with me "like it or not." So off we went.

It was at this point that I tried another one of your suggestions and I do not advise it in a moving vehicle. As we were driving the beast began its usual onslaught, unleashing every weapon in its arsenal. In fact it must have given itself a bit of a shock as when we later removed it from the car it had soiled itself all the way up to its neck. As The Beast was doing this I looked for that point of interest to focus on in order to close off my mind to its attacks. I must say it worked quite well. That is until my wife grabbed the steering wheal screaming and put us back on the road.

All of that aside the rest of the trip went more or less without a hitch and we made it to the country hardware store just a little behind schedule. I quickly ran in and picked up some shock wire and six industrial screws. It took all my effort to keep from speeding as I raced home anxious to try out my new purchases. And I was amazed to find my wife cooperating when I got home. In deed she handed me The Beast and sent me to give it a bath. How cleaver of her. The shock wire should work even better with The Beast submerged in water. So off I went. Soiled Beast in one hand, shock wire in the other, and a big smile on my face. Until I got into the bathroom.

I had filled up the tub and placed The Beast within like a piece of roast being put into the stew pot to make soup. Then I turned around to plug in the shock wire. It turns out that shock wire has a very different electrical prong configuration than what I use in my house. After several minutes of fiddling I was forced to set the wire aside and wash The Beast whom I then put back on my wife’s hip and headed for the attic.

In the attic we have an old antenna. I have never had much use for it as I do not own a TV. Annoying, noisy time wasters that they are. So it has sat in our attic for some time gathering dust. Your note suggesting I create a connection to the Beast that will allow me to communicate with it gave me an idea however. It may be that its communication devices are similar to radio waves or television waves in which case if I mount the old antennae to it I may be able to disrupt it by forcing it to deal with all the new information. With new found vigor I ran for my drill and grabbed the screws I had purchased earlier that day. Now ready for my experiment I stalked around the house looking for an opportune moment when The Beast would be separated from my wife. I was amazed by my wife’s stamina as it took many hours before she finally put the beast down and left the room. My diligence rewarded I quickly dashed into the room and began marking out where on the beasts scalp I would place the screw holes. Then revving my drill once or twice to make sure the batteries were still good I put the screw on the tip of the drill and in walked my wife. Now I have often seen my bride upset over one thing or another but never before have I seen anything like this. She was nearly a different person entirely. And her new found self had super human strength. I had to flee for my life, running around the house and screaming in a most undignified manner as I dodged flying objects that at one time or another had been dear to her or me. Finally, her anger subsided, my wife went into the room with the beast and locked the door. And thus the day’s events were concluded. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get another chance but only time will tell. Until then I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

United Postal Service Message

Dear Mr. OR,

I am writing to you to inform you that we have missplaced a letter addressed to you. We expect to find the letter quickly and will deliver it promptly upon locating it. We thank you for your patience in this matter.
Thank you,

John Smith,
Post Master

On the State of Modern Workmanship

Dear OR,

Have you noticed that they just don’t make things like they used to? Or perhaps it is simply that we have lost our focus. As you may recall I have a new job that requires me to spend many hours staring at the walls of a tiny box which I crammed into every morning. I had to get this job in order to increase my household income in order to purchase devices of torture for The Beast so that when I had a chance I would be able to question the monstrosity. Well I finally had my chance.

Over the weekend my lovely wife asked me to keep the invader at the house for a while so that she could pick up some groceries. I am certain that this was my wife fighting against The Beasts mind control to leave me a coded message: "Let the Torture Begin!” So being a loving husband I readily agreed and went about gathering all our new gadgets and gizmos, previously assembled by myself, into our main living space.

I grinned as my wife walked out the door and quickly snatched the beast from a corner and went about latching it down in a small chair with buckles and hooks and blankets with zippers. I can only assume that the blankets are some kind of heat torture as it is currently 94 degrees here. I regretfully must inform you that The Beasts Will is strong and even when thoroughly restrained and placed in the baking blanket it looked at me and smiled as if to say "Do your worst." So I tried. I looked all over the chair but couldn’t find the button to begin a shock treatment. Nor could I find anyway to tighten the restraints enough to use this as a crushing device. I checked the temperature with a thermometer and you can imagine my surprise when it turned out to be slightly cooler than the air outside. In desperation, I'm ashamed to admit, I read the directions but they were no help as they were all about correctly securing the chair and the victim and didn't get into the torture techniques. Perhaps the manufacturer ran out of paper.

Several other devices turned out much the same way. I did not get a chance to try them all as my wife came home first and removed The Beast from clutches. Apparently it was only a momentary lapse in mind control. However, I'm beginning to believe that the other devices will suffer the same debilitating defects. It seams that folks have lost the stomach for real instruments of torture and so now they only manufacture worthless devices that give the appearance of torture occurring without actually inflicting the necessary pain and suffering.

I shall have to rely on other means. I know another man in a similar situation to mine. Perhaps if we get the two together we can ease drop and learn what their plans are. I will of course keep you abreast of any developments. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On Betrayal and Becoming a Mule

Dear OR,

I am coming to realize that I am no longer in control of events surrounding my life. At one time yes I was. But now...

This profound and significant truth came crashing home to me the other day as I was sitting in my box staring at the wall as usual. I was contemplating the hairy fibers of the box and fine woody smell when some images from this weekend popped quite unexpectedly into my head. The Beast and my wife were at it as usual. My wife was carrying the beast around rocking back and forth like a heroine addict going through withdrawal while The Beast screamed at the top of its lungs.

Now if there is one thing that irritates me to the point of madness it is loud unceasing noise. I am a quiet man prone to fits of reading as I'm sure you remember and these loud interruptions make me feel almost violent. Somehow The Beast must have picked up on this because it and my wife followed me around the house for the better part of three hours screaming all the while.

I couldn't take it anymore. So I asked my Wife what I could do to get them to stop. At first I refused their demands but another 45 minutes found me saddled like a common beast of burden. A large backpack strapped to me with The Beast riding triumphantly inside and as if that wasn't enough my wife paraded me around the streets of our neighborhood to show everyone my humiliation. All of this now confirms two things to me. First I am no longer in control but they are. Second there can be no negotiations it is either I who must give in or them but there will be no middle ground. They have made this clear.

I have been far too passive as of late and have allowed The Beast to nearly take over my home with out a fight. From this point on it is war. The trick will be to separate The Beast from my wife. Wish me luck for tonight I begin planning. I will not be so humiliated again! I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy

On the Power of the Pocket Book

Dear OR,

Indeed Mr. OR I have in fact been attending work regularly. In fact it is this very subject that is the reason why this post is so late. However; to do this justice I must back track a bit in on our conversation here.

You see prior to the arrival of The Beast my wife had informed me about the possibility of just such an invasion. Indeed my wife’s intuition often borders on the psychic in situations such as these. My wife informed me that such an invasion would be very expensive; requiring all manner of specialised devices. I believe many of these devices to be excellent means for torturing invaders into giving up information about their troop movements. Indeed upon buying some of these items I found them covered in belts, straps, buckles, hooks and many other devices used for immobilizing an adversary. I also realized upon inspection that modern torture is not cheap.

You see I was working at a delightful little resort at the time that provided all manner of liberties. In fact it was a lot more like attending your local smoking or country club than it was like going to work. Well even enjoyable leisurely work has its draw backs and the drawback here was simply that I was barely paid enough to maintain my chosen life style.

The wife and I argued for many hours about possibilities and replacement items and I must confess I was amazed at the bloodthirstiness I found in my bride. Indeed she steadfastly refused to budge on any of the latest technologies in torture and in fact was constantly adding devices to the list as she looked through catalogs or perused local inventories. Why, when I suggested we could use some rope to immobilize the expectant prisoners I was reprimanded so thoroughly that I feared bringing forth any further suggestions and instead began looking at ways to improve our income.

And this brings me to the reason I am late in my correspondence. As I am sure you have guessed by now I have changed employment. I am sad to report that this job is nothing like attending a smoking or country club but instead feels more like attempting to survive forced attrition. Indeed within days of my arrival they terminated twenty employees.

The Beast seams to require ever increasing flows of cash; however, so daily I report to work where they stuff me into a very small box with only a single light to read by and demand that I stare at my boxes walls for several hours at a time and then they send me home stiff. What purpose this serves I am not sure as I am afraid to ask the taskmasters but for now I am concentrating very hard at being the best box-wall starer that I can be. Perhaps if I show aptitude they will allow me a bigger box.

In regards to sleeping while at work I must confess I have come close several times. Indeed I find myself nodding off regularly but invariably as soon as my eyes begin to droop one of the taskmasters will come along and kick my box, ask me some question about the condition of its walls, and then wander off leaving me with the faint impression that I gave the wrong answer and will be among the next set of workers released.

So given my current state of affairs I hope that you will forgive my late correspondence and I shall try to remain more diligent in the future. I remain always;

Respectfully yours,

The Lumpy