What kind of darkness lies in a man's soul? Take the charming Chris Phipson, a friend to all, and generous moderator of MOCpages. Considered by most to have a good sense of humor that often makes him the "butt" of many jokes, Phipson secretly makes note of these jesters and their transgressions. His motto is <i>"Nemo me impune lacessit."</i> "No one insults me with impunity."
The thousand injuries of Mister Bones I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. He had a weak point - this Mister Bones - although in other regards he was a skeleton to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in ABS Plastics. In this respect I did not differ from him materially: I was skillful in the purchasing, and bought largely whenever I could.
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of Brickworld, that I encountered my friend.
"PHIPPY! How's it hanging!" He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore a pilot's garb, having just come from judging a contest of aeronautical creations.
"My dear Mister Bones, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today! But I have received a crate of what passes for Translucent Purple, but I have my doubts."
"How?" said he. "Translucent Purple? A crate? Impossible! And in the middle of Brickworld!"
"I have my doubts, and was foolish enough to pay full Translucent Purple price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."
"I have my doubts."
"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Kevin Walter. If anyone has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me --"
"Kevin cannot tell Translucent Purple from Blue-Violet. Come let us go."
After some back and forth, I allowed Mister Bones to take my arm and we departed to my palace.
"Why are we in steam tunnels?" the inebriate asked of me.
"It is here and nowhere else that the Lady Phipson allows my collection to reside."
"Dude, you are so whipped!" His insults heaped more fuel upon the inferno of my vengence, but I tempered my anger and handed him a torch.
"Are you certain that you are up to this my friend. It is quite damp, and I would not want bone-rot to set in."
"Nonsense, I'm fit as a fiddle and I just got all my bones re-scotch-guarded last week."
"Very well, but you should use all proper caution. A nip of this brandy will defend us from the damps."
He swallowed a great draught and we proceeded.
We travled on, the darkness close about us. Mister Bones steps faltered and his voice grew more slurred from the drink with which I plied him.
"Phipster, I've been meaning to ask, why the hell are you wearing sunglasses underground?"
"Worry not, for we draw nigh to the treasure we seek."
There at the end of the tunnel we perceived a recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. In vain Mister Bones lifted his torch, endeavoring to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.
"Proceed," I said; "herein is the Translucent Purple."
He stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately on his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered.
A moment more and I had fettered him to the rock. In its surface were two iron loops from which hung chains. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was much too astounded to resist. I stepped back from the recess.
"Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power."
"The Translucent Purple!" ejaculated my friend; not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied; the "The Translucent Purple."
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of rubble. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.
I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Mister Bones had in a great measure worn off. A low moaning cry came from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man.
I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain.
"Dude! What the F@!$*@Q!"
My task was drawing to a close. There remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. But now there came from out of the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Mister Bones.
"Nice one, Phippinator. You really had me going. We'll laugh about this over a beer. Let's go."
"Yes," I said, "let us be gone." "For the love of God, Phipperino!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"
But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply.
"Mister Bones!" No answer. I called again: "Mister Bones!"
No answer still. I forced the last stone into its position.
"My dear Master Shifu Leo J, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today! But I have recieved a crate of what passes for Translucent Purple, but I have my doubts..."
Fourth Wall: I had planned on doing Poe's dark tale "The Cask of Amontillado" for the classic literature category, but so many Poe entries were being created that I had started to rethink doing it. The nail in the coffin for the idea was brought to me by Nannan Z. and his entry "A Jingling of the Bells" depicting the final scene of "The Cask of Amontiallado", and which netted a well-deserved perfect score from the judges. While I could have posted my own version, I decided to recast the story using two of our beloved judges and thus my story "The Cask of Translucent Purple" was born.
Fortunately for me, this recasting allowed me to also adjust the clothing as I do not have a jester's motley (thank you, Lee Jones and your minfig hoarding! Seriously, check out any of a number of his creations where he has hundreds of the same fig). Also lacking the hair/suit for Mister Bones most common appearance, I opted to make him a jaunty pilot. Score another for artistic license.
Some shots of the build in better lighting. I definitely tried to use lighting to set the mood on this, I was not completely satisfied but I learned alot and will have to try something like this again.
My thanks goes out to all the judges, for your willingness to not only judge the competition, but subject yourselves to some degradation from the builders you would be scoring. A shout out to Leda Kat as well. Sorry I didn't get a chance to work you in somewhere, but at least you weren't stripping this time :).
And of course, my thanks to Mr. Edgar Allen Poe for his distrubing tales and poems of which I am a huge fan and from which I drew the content and tone of much of my text. Glad to see that he is getting his props during the competition.