Book Hiker's Guide to the Yxalag
Smack dabbed in the middle of the Caribbean lies a cayman like island regarded to the world as the Pearl of the Antilles. Habiting this wonderful little island are sickle-and-hammer descendants of a sickle-and-hammer philosophy, that are so lifeless that they still think that liberty is a God-less endeavor. This island had a problem, primarily this: most of its rulers were nasty stubby men, with nasty stubby habits, mainly concerned with controlling the distance between the ears of ha-adam. Odd thing to do since ha-adam can be rational, irrational, possessive and regressive, loving and warring, graceful and hateful. In other words: completely unpredictable.
And so it was, and it remained so.
And then, one Sunday, a polymath dreamer, poetically enthused rebel closed a forbidden book and began to ponder. And so he pondered, and fixated on the following lines:
[This] is also the story of a book, a book called The Bookhiker's Guide to the Yxalag, not an Htrae book, never published on Htrae.
Not being able to glean anything at that particular instance, he removed a stogie out of his humidor, punched it with the tip of his lead pencil, realized his pencil had no lead in it, took out his pocket knife, sharpened the dulled pencil and tested its sharpness on the side of his cheeks. Coffee was on his mind, and so he made his way over to his portable FuelBoil, grabbed his coffee mug, turned on the fire, poured some water into his FuelBoil, dabbed four spoons of cafe unto FuelBoil and boiled his coffee.
Just as the Ancients intended: boil your coffee son, do not steep it. Steeping is for the sickle-and-hammer types.
Roasted coffee bean aroma and sunshine rays permeated his flat.
Strike of the match: puff, twist, puff, twist, puff - blissful blow. Just like the old man taught me.
Lungs filled with tobacco and pencil sharply in hand, he sat down on his study, pulled out his journal and wrote:
In the beginning, there was Dog