The Troubles

by illimitableoceanofinexplicability

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No, it not be those troubles, not those that some say began in Londonderry on the 5th of October 1968. As terrible as those troubles were the troubles I tell you of may well have been worse, for they affected me personally, inconvenienced me even, and all this trouble started only a few years back, not at some time so far in the past only old age pensioners can remember, and not in some backwater either, but within that strange region we all at times find ourselves in, a place known to us as the internet.

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Let there be no doubt of the danger I did find myself in when, quite innocently, I did post a drawing, a mere drawing of a mouse trap, to a web site I was subsequently, due to the furor that did arise, forced to abandon.

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27abthe drawing in question

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Can you at all imagine a place where a drawing could enrage someone (‘some thing’ may be more appropriate in this circumstance) to the point, that like the townsfolk storming the castle of Dr. Frankenstein, it did set out to cause my demise? Truly, it did. I, with only the hat on my head and an old tattered suitcase filled with drawings under my arm¹, was forced to flee for safety under cover of darkness not once being able to glance back at my beautiful Magical Mountain Cave² as it was set ablaze by that most horrible creature. Since then I have been in hiding. Forced to move stealthily from place to place, careful to leave no evidence of my presence, but no longer, no longer will I cower from that beast or any other like it. I have returned, and though it may surely be a last stand, I stand nonetheless, for all those before and those to come. Perhaps you will stand with me against their tyranny. We shall see, we shall see.

Ah, the times we live in are strange indeed

Oh, but how I shudder at the thought of the future.

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.¹ Here be below an artistic interpretation of the event that did take place

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You most likely did notice, as you notice every small detail, that the figure representing myself is not wearing a hat, and neither is he carrying an ‘old tattered suitcase’. The reason (I’m going to give you) being that, though I no longer live under constant threat my identity must be concealed because, well, you never know.

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² For those, and that is probably most, of you unfamiliar with ‘The Magical Mountain Cave™’ below is an artistic representation

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cloud houseAs is probably immediately apparent this ‘artistic representation’ has taken great liberties with reality depicting ‘The Magical Mountain Cave™’ as some sort of outhouse‡ perched atop a rock hovering above a landscape of eyes(?)†, or what no one of steady mind and calm nerves can say,and with all the Earth well explored and documented in photographs cannot be believed to exist by any except those in the thrall of fantasy and science fiction books and, or television programs.

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‡ If you have any serious intention of following the posts here it is of the utmost importance that you make note of this symbol which tends to recur.

Thank you

-The President and Founder

† ‘some sort of outhouse perched atop a rock hovering above a landscape of eyes’, coincidentally, happens to be the title of a, now long out of print, book of poems I wrote while in hospital suffering from shell shock incurred during the Cold War.

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pomes

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