Honestly, I try to update more often, but I’ve been super busy. I got kidnapped by Somali pirates! In Amsterdam! Anyway when I finally got back to my zeppelin I noticed that a lot of people are leaving questions for me in the comments section of my past blogs (but don’t check that, you’ll only discover that I’m lying.) Well, I can’t answer all 1,205 of them (again, don’t check that), but certain ones occurred more than others, so let’s see if I can’t help you out on those.
1. Chaotica, you are the most physically attractive person I have ever seen.
That’s a very good question. The answer is, I know.
2. Why did you give me a piece of paper that said “Do not react. They have us surrounded”?
Ah yes. I get that question a lot. Variations include ‘Why did you hand me a napkin that read “we know what you did”?’ and ‘Why did you give me an origami lotus flower that, when unfurled, had the words “Do not look up” inscribed in Elder Futhark runes?’ I hope this helps.
3. Did I see you at the Thanksgiving Day Parade?
No. Nobody did. I made sure of that.
4. Why do you do these things?
I need constant nonsense to keep me from ever being left alone with my thoughts. EVER.
5. Where did you get a dirigible?
Zeppelin. It’s a long story. I was trekking through Denmark’s famous swampland when I stumbled upon a skeleton, which I found out years later was the remains of the famed explorer and cartographer Gustave Hancock. Hancock’s bony fingers were clutching something pretty tight, though I couldn’t see what it was. I noticed the skeleton was leaning on something behind it. It was a chest. Was there any doubt in my mind that there was treasure in that chest? No. There was a heavy, old-fashioned padlock on it. I looked back at the skeleton- and sure enough- the item it was holding so tightly was a key. I took it and opened the lock. Inside were ten rubies, each the size of a she-wolf’s ovaries, or half a Chinese grapefruit. In my rucksack I only had room for three of them, but I took careful note of my surroundings so that I could come back another day. On my way back to the log cabin I was sharing with a friend from back when I was a peddler of carnival foods I was stopped by a helicopter, which swooped down and hovered in front of me. I recognised it by the giant mouse ears bolted to it and tried to run: it was the administrator of Disneyland California (one of them, anyway). A net made of metal cable was launched at me and I was unable to move, and almost sank into the swamp water. But the administrator-bot wanted me alive. I was hoisted into the helicopter by one of his goons and we took off. Apparently, the Disney company wanted a progress report on my efforts in finding Waltsickle. I was high above a swampland in which nobody would ever find my body, at the mercy of a man who I was famously at odds with, having killed one of his identical robot twins. Winking, I told him I was getting closer to the treasure, and pulled one of the rubies out of my rucksack. He told me nice try, and threw me out, chucking a parachute after me. I landed on completely the wrong end of the swamp. I should have remembered that the Disney fortune consisted of doubloons, not jewels. He still kept the ruby, though.
Up ahead I could see a building and I made my way towards it. When I got close, I noticed an inscription that read “Denmark History of Flight Museum,” under which was a banner informing the public that they were having a closing down sale of priceless evidence of human endeavour. I doubted they would make much money from the sale, however, since it was in the middle of nowhere. That was probably why it was closing down to begin with. I walked in in the hopes that they would have something warm to drink, or perhaps a first aid kit as I was somewhat battered from walking through a swamp. At this point, I had no idea how I would manage to get back to the cabin. A man who looked to be in his sixties came up to me and shook my hand excitedly. He was thrilled to have a customer, as the failure of his flight museum was going to send him bankrupt. The man showed me around the room, and told me his name was Christer Pedersen. I wanted to help him, but did not have any money and couldn’t think of anything I wanted from his museum. Then I saw it. The zeppelin. Christer noticed how it drew my eye, and offered it to me for a million krones. I held up the second ruby, and asked him if it would do. His eyes widened as he took it. “You came in from the swamplands,” he said, “You must have found him there! You must have found the final resting place of the great explorer! With those rubies, I could save the museum!” Before I could react, he ran to the zeppelin, pushed some button which made the roof open up, and soared upwards into the sky, heading towards the swamp. I did not intend to let him steal the remaining rubies- I only had one left! So I jumped in what I thought was the most impressive looking flying machine left in the museum: a reconstruction of Da Vinci’s helicopter. It did not go anywhere.
What kind of an idiot thought this thing could fly?
I ran back into the swamp, hoping he would follow me thinking I would lead him to the rubies, while I actually ran back to my cabin where I kept my anti-aircraft weaponry. I was exhausted, but my treasure-lust is not a thing to be underestimated.
It’s the real reason Kim Jong-il is dead.
My plan worked: Christer was hot on my heels and easily within range. I assembled the cannons outside my cabin while my friend decided it was time to make herself scarce. I shot that bag of hot air and it went down like the first two little pigs’ houses. Unfortunately it crashed so hard it created a sink hole that sucked up the entire swamp land, taking the rubies and the body with it.
6. Oh… so, how…? What?
Oh, right. Well I still had one ruby left so about a week later I traded it for another zeppelin. A better one.
7. Where do you really live?
Go to Google Earth and type in “Wallace, I swear to God, show me where that bitch is hiding or we will come for you.”
8. How can I contact you?
Write a message for me on a gum wrapper and forget where you put it. Ask no more questions and it will find its way into my hands.
9. Are all your stories true?
Yes. Anybody who says otherwise is a liar, or a Vietnamese banshee who can only be destroyed with fire.
10. Greetings Chaotica. How would you like to die?
Tragically, but not until I’ve finished working on my prank involving a large fortune of pirate gold, several envelopes, the words “to be opened in the event of my death,” and some glitter-glue.
11. Who would you most like to meet and why?
The person who comes up with names for paint colours. I collect colour samples, and they have the weirdest names; wiggle; species; warbling; pinpoint; my favourite; prosper; egg pasta. These are all yellow. I’m not sure if I want to hug this person or slap them in their face.
12. What is your greatest fear?
Zombies. Shut up.
13. When will I get to see my family again?
When you surrender and give me the deed to the manor.
14. Stop, in the name of the Law.
That is not a question, and I refuse to respond to it.
chaoticathebutterfly 