Dear current holder of the flame of Brintok,

Our records show that you are 623 years behind on your ethereal methane payments for said flame of Brintok. We have sent several querries to the office of Mystical doo-dads as well as directly to the flame enchanted desk of Zaratok (also deliquent in payments for the last 346 millenia). Please sent the required 4,276,523 dagobats in the form of a cashiers check or we will be forced to extinguish said flame and revoke your DeJaVu gold membership card.

Thank you for your time and prompt payment,
MumRa The Ever Living Collections Manager

By what craft is this?!!! Surely you make jest from within the all swirling cosmic vortex of hilarity. To claim that I, Morlock Rocksbane the Blue, would ever dare fail to deliver a payment unto anyone in the know multiverse, and the unknown multiverse. Truly there must be a clerical error of epic proportions caused by a seismic quake of miscalculation, resulting in nothing less but the grinding of T.P.S. report tectonic plates!!! In all my travels and studies across all the realities I have never stood in the nexus of such impertinence, such ridiculousness, and such foolishness. Not even the three Ley Lines of Stooge ever conjured a state of mistakenness thusly. To think that I, the Mage Supreme of this plane, would be stripped of the tools and office of the Magi due to a lack of payment. If this is to be surely there is some from of credit that could be extended unto me or perhaps a Grand High Exalted Master Supervisor I could speak with? Nay, nay, I deny this untruth and cast it back into the face of mine enemies, much like a slush ball of hate. It is against all the written and unwritten rules of this universe to claim these accusations against my personal, known from this point on as the first party. There must be an explanation for this horror….Of course.
So distraught I was by such grave news I had failed to realize your one mistake. Perhaps in your eagerness to deny this Wizard that which bends the magics of the world the idea of leaving your true name off of your communication abandoned you, fearing the wrath that is I. I see now through your feeble ploy Mumra. In my many journeys through time and space I did come across one of this world’s heroes, Lion-O. And over several games of backgammon and catnip bong hits he told me about your exploits and devious ways. Now I see that even I am not immune to the pestering of long dead Egyptian rulers and their clerical schemes. So know this, dark one, if ever I lay mine eyes upon thee my wrath will be the stuff of legends. If you shall dare to acquire the mystical items in my charge again I will erase your presence from existence so hard your parallel self will feel it. Do not challenge my claim. Now be gone forever.

From the Flame Enchanted Desk of Zaratok,

Morlock Rocksbane the Blue


P.S. If in fact I am delinquent on the payment would you be so kind as to place me on some kind of payment plan. Thank you.

Dear Morlock,

What, in fact, WOULD Jesus do???

- I.P. Freely

Greeting unto thee mortal. I, Morlock Rocksbane the Blue, master of the mystic forces and keeper of the flame of Brintok, will answer your query.

First, I must vehemently and profusely apologize for the lateness of my response. While having traveled a great many realities and have gazed upon mysteries as yet undreamed of by mortal man, it was well within my power to dazzle and amaze you with false tales and fables, distracting you from the most egregious of societal faux pas. But I did not. No mortal, as a wizard supreme it is of the utmost importance that truth be all the spills from mine lips…….I was watching my soaps. Aye mortal, tis true. I was entranced and enthralled with the great telling of Mandy, and her evil twin sister who seduced her fiancée. Yay, I watched verily as the gay boxer found the will to fight, the hunky Latin Roberto was reunited with his daughter, and the large bosomed Josephine found love in a snowed in cabin with the French airline pilot. Ah, truly these are tales for the soul. But no matter, I have erred against thee. If only I were able to rise up the great magical piñata of Metrona and fill it with candy made of chocolate covered apologies. But alas, I used it last Sunday at my nephew’s birthday party.

Now, to thy query. You ask what would Jesus do? To my divine knowledge Jesus would probably first trim the hedges, mow thine lawn, and clean the leaves out of the swimming pool. Then on days off granted to him by his master, he would take a portion of his earnings and send it via Western Union to Mexico where…..oh….oh by the blood of the gods, you where implying the Christ child, not Jesus Rivera, my grounds keeper. Well, even the greatest of all Wizard Supremes gets to make one mistake per millennium.

Now mortal, you ask what the enlightened being of on high would do? Well…..that’s a little vague. In what context are we speaking? In thine mind is there a specific situation or series of circumstance for which you seek the knowledge of this most divine and abstract thought experiment? Tis baffling of how many possibilities a question such as this spins and ponders even within an expanded mind of a Mage Supreme.

But forth-with and to, I shall not let such a hindrance be a cosmic hurdle in my 400 meter dash of truth. Jesus would play Dance Dance Revolution all day and all night. The offspring of the heavens above would dance mightily all day, all night, grooving and stepping to the beats of Japanese pop bands in an arcade surrounded by cheering 12 year old girls and adult gay men, marveling at how smooth and ‘cool’ his dance strides were as he graced the four way arrowed pads with his holy sandaled feet, preaching to his flock about the intrinsic beauty of all mankind while executing a perfect box step to the lyric ‘Move, groove, Donkey a-go-go”. Ye, as the Savior, son of man, grooved, his flowing robes drenched in the sweat of heaven, he would sermon against hate and mistrust, foster love and understanding, bless the peacemakers and children, all while getting down and getting funky.
So mine mortal friend. I hope this at last sates the curiosity welling in your minds palette. If you shall ever need my expertise in this world or any other, fear not to request me by name, or phone extension. Fare thee well.

From the flame enchanted desk of Zaratok,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

Dear Morlock,

What should I do for a job?

Dearest Mortal,
A thousand greetings and a billion salutations. I, Morlock Rocksbane the blue, am here to answer your querry. But first, let me apologize for the lateness of my repsonse. For you see, a questions, such as yours, requires much thought, preperation, and the steadying of nerves, even for the mythril nerves of one such as myself. That, and the fact that I got really smashed on Friday night. If one thing you gleen from this day mortal, let it be this, if ever anyone hands you a shot glass and says it's an 'Infinite Bananna Boat Scream', simply turn away and make haste in as many opposite directions as possible. If you do choose to imbide, I recommend that you inform your friends again, in the unlikely likelyhood that they have mayhaps forgotten, that you would prefer not to be on the front page of your local paper with only a head band on while riding any number of farm animals into a local toll booth, demanding all the Kings pudding. Just a tip from me and all my ancient learnings.

But now mortal, to your original inquisition. To find the perferct occupation for any entity in this multiverse requires careful divining of the etheral aura that surrounds the essences of the very being itself. Of course I can't do that now due to privacy laws. So my two options were to either tear into the fabric of all that is real and unreal, peering into the very living fiber of this plane, it's ebb and flow teeming with knowledge, but also hungry for destruction of any fool who even dare hint at it's very existence, or pull something out of a hat. But I couldn't find a hat. So, after sailing the magical winds of the lifeblood of the universe, of this I have learned, when I peered into the pure nucleus of
the self known only as 'you'.
1: You tend to dress your best on Thursdays.
2: You could use the contents of your car to start a British New Wave Band.
3: If you were to ever be locked in a death-combat with a great Tri-headed Platypus of Zanzibar, your only chance in victory would be dance moves you learned from watching Michael Jacksons "Thriller"
4: You're the exact height you need to be to be the height you are.
5: Your knowledge of ancient Slovakian languages is severly lacking and brings shame to you and all your decendents.
6: If you were to train in the arduous arts of a Magi Supreme you would become so powerful, so full of mystical energies, charged with enchantment, that you could heat up any left over Taco Bell product with just your mind.
7: You are so well organized in three space triangulation and four dimensional sense perception that to all the world you seem as a slob.
8: If you were exposed to deadly gamma radiation you would either become a great hulk of a creature, with no being in world able to match your unstoppable power, or become a little bit more tan.
9: The Croatoan Race, spawned of Saurian-Brain pods and the great Fungi Giants of Ventitus, known conquerers of Galaxy Z-18, fear the day that you learn Amish sewing techniques, for it will spell the end of their civilization.
10: Your belly button is an innie.

And from this knowledge I have bent all the powers within my great mind, searching, questing, probing, delving, hunting, getting distracted, and accidently stumbling upon the occupation that you should focus all your untapped potential unto. My good sir, the ultimate field that you should seek to be employed is....Wood Shop teacher for any school district in Wyoming. Now, while this nuggest of pure learned gold may seem absurd, unlikely, and probably made up on the spot, fear not. For while it may seem more mundane that hoped, it will bring you to the plateau of ultimate enlightenment and intimate knowledge of all the world...that deals with wood.

If you should have further need of my great mental prowess, feel free to call upon me. Until then mortal, fare thee well.

From the Flame Enchanted Desk of Greystone Tower,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

Morrie, baby!

Long time no staff! What has it been...1000 years since we last shared some hemlock at the Upstalsboom? So, tell me, big fella...what's a guy like you doing on a site like this?

What Ho there Mortal,

As usual I must beg thee for forgiveness in the lateness of my response. Again, your message did not reach me due to completely unexplainable reasons. If I was to even attempt to explain unto the the reasons why I did not receive your message, I couldn't, for they are unexplainable. Even the slightest attempt would warp and distort the basic fabric of all that is and ever shall be. And so to even mention the thought of doing so would have dire consequences for all involved. And so, that why my Mortal friend, I can not explain them.

Now to answer your query. I cruise the ways of cyberspace to facilitate my ever increasing knowledge of all the world mystic. For in the untold fathoms in the fabricated realms of pure information lies yet another path towards nigh-unatainable pure enlightenment. Also, I have met a nice young lady here. Yes, that is right, I Morlock Rocksbane the Blue, traveler of the Ethereal Plane, Keeper of the Flame of Brintok, defender of the mystic ways, have met another kindred soul in this space of cyber. We met in the Britney Spears chat room. Twas truly a magical meeting. When I queried about her, she mentioned that she was some sort of buxom blonde maiden, who earns money for her schooling in the arts of Rocket Science by performing at a local house of erotic dance. Also, according to her tales, she was a champion Scuba diver, a licensed airline pilot, had learned Kung Fu at a Shaolin temple in China, had cured colon cancer, and had won the Gran Prix in Monte Carlo. Needless to say, I was thoroughly intrigued. How wonderful it was to meet another sentient with such a diverse array of skills and experiences. My infatuation grew ever more when I received her file "Big Boobs.jpeg". Truly then I knew I had found my love of this age. In all my experiences, this is one of the greatest. After all, since these web-sites are based on information, and information is truth, then this 'World Wide Web' is bound by the honor and code of truth. So while this fair maiden's stories to seem to grace the edges of untruth, they must be valid, for it was on the internet.

And so, with that my Mortal companion, I must bid thee farewell, for you see, my greatest love doth call for me over the mystical "Instant Messenger" Fare thee well.

From the Flame Enchanted Desk of Krothar,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

Dear Morlock,
What did Isaac Newton mean by "the lingering essence of a departed quantity", anyway? I mean, can you divide by zero or not? How did Lagrange find those points if they're not here on earth? You certainly can't find them in the beer locker at 7-11! Good thing these fuddy duddy mathematicians aren't politicians, or we'd be in real trouble! -Fred

Greetings Unto you Good sir Fred,

I must apologize for the slight delay in my response to you.  For while I did receive your letter, I was unable to read it.  For you see, I had taken the great spectacles of Wortuth, magical glasses gifted unto me by the Moose Queen of the north for defeating her ancient and hated enemy, the wretched, powerful, and most diabolical warlord known as 'Earl'.  These lenses, whose power allowed me to see into the 27 known dimensions and under women’s clothing.  But alas they were in a set of frames that did not go well with my current state of fashion, so I took them to lens crafters.  And after a series of clerical mistakes, they gave a pair of rose-colored monocles.  Now while rose-colored glasses do please me, as well as the dignity afforded to one with a monocle, I am afraid that two of them made my face hurt on many of levels.  Consequently, reading was a truly impossible task.  But now I have a goblin companion who reads unto me the letters I receive, as I poke him with stick.  Now, to your question. 

Isaac Newton, who was a dear friend to me, was a great man whom I hold only in the most highest regard. He shaped the world of mathematics and science in ways that still affect modern thought. His mental prowess was unmatched in his time. Even to one such as myself who has traveled a myriad of alternate planes. And there is a great secret to Newton’s mental capacity. Something which I shall share with you now. 

He got stoned…a lot. In all my travels and wanderings through a plethora of worlds, in all my meetings with creatures of myth and tales of yore, in all the years I have known the giants of time, have I never met a sentient who smoked as much of the wacky tabacky as Sir Isaac Newton. I mean, whoa. Newton is the sole reason that the economy of the Netherlands stayed afloat during the 17th century. So, when he said “the lingering essence of a departed quantity”, he was referring to the inefficiency of the stone bongs which were in use at the time. Many moons later, he had used his new found science of Calculus to create a mathematical design for a more perfect bong, which he kept in his closet at Cambridge. Oh, and he did find a way to divide by zero, but the resulting blast of dark matter energy opened a small worm hole where his assistant was sucked into an alternate reality where life was like a musical. People dancing to and fro, and singing a song about what they were doing. Entertaining at first, but annoying after about the second month.

As too your second question, I am afraid I cannot give unto you an answer. And here is why. Many a year ago, Lagrange and I were truly friends in the purest sense of the form. Our days would be filled with sunny afternoons, Lagrange and I frolicking in flower filled fields. Splashing around in ponds, carving our names into trees, and pushing each other on swings. And during the night, making campfires, telling secrets and having a roast of marshmallows. It was during one of these times that Lagrange bestowed upon me the secret of where he had found his ‘points’. I was appalled, shocked, and a little jealous as he regaled me with the story. A story to which I chuckle to even this very day when I think of it.  A story that took but a handful of minutes to tell, and a thousand lifetimes to comprehend. A story that…well, it’s would blow your ass off, Mister. No, literally, ass, off... blown even.
              
I hope this has put to rest some of the wandering in your mind. If ever you feel the need to call upon my services again, please feel free to do so. Also, tipping in encourage. That’s what the jar is for. Fare thee well mortal.

From the Flame Enchanted Desk of the Ancients,                                      
Morlock Rocksbane The Blue

Dear Morlock,
What does it mean when there is no full moon, yet I have a hankering for the nightlife of the ancient world of moss and lichen? -Ihavagnawinfeelin

Most dearest feeling of gnawing'

I must apologize for the lateness of my response. You see, a most wicked and foul thing was beset upon me. I was struck from behind with a candle holder and put into a coma. I was whisked away to a secret hospital in the United Arab Emirates. Meanwhile my evil, despicable twin brother took my place. His plan was truly a devilish and diabolical one. He went out to ruin my good name and hoard the wealth of my Star Wars collectible glasses that I had hidden in a secret safe, guarded by my minions, incantations, and a lock that needed a decoder ring to figure out. Unfortunately I forgot to lock it. But his plan was thwarted when my beloved, Bessie, did place a kiss upon him. And on doing so did realize that this was not the suave and smooth Morlock Rocksbane the Blue that all have come to know and admire. She soon subdued him with Judo moves she learned in 4H. When my location was finally realized and my consciousness finally given back to me, the first thing I did was check my mail. And now, with that out of the way, let us address your question, young mortal.

First off I must say that your report of there being no full moon and you having the strange and inexplicable need to dance and sway to the music of lichen and moss is most disturbing. First off, it means that the moon has been covered in moss, lichen, and fungi of all kinds. Showering the earth with their transmissions and influence. They could be a truly monumental if not disastrous turn of events for all of us sentient's who are not attached to a rock, or tree, or brick wall, and grow to the north. Also... I really hate the music that moss plays in nightclubs. Using their dreaded 5:4 time instead of 4:4 time like a civilized person, uh life form...thing. Bah, bah! Bah! I say. We must take care and proceed carefully. Now, if anybody from the Green Party asks you for your vote quickly set them aflame and run and tell the nearest adult. Do this because one - that person is nothing but moss and lichen disguised as a human seeking to overthrow all governments everywhere, and two - because it's funny. The glow a bright green flame. It's really cool to look at, especially if you are high. Also, don't trust any one from an Ivy League college, for they are under the power of the moss and lichen. Their brains subdued over a period of 4 to 8 years of studying and cocktail parties and sweaters tied around their necks. They have been utterly corrupted and will probably try to sell you a car. One that's good for the earth, they'll say. A green car. Bah, bah. Such treachery I have nary seen in over a millennia, when Rodrick the Snide sold me a bridge in a place called Brooklyn. Knowing full well it wasn't built he doth sold me the afore mentioned bridge, and I have never forgot this slight since.

But no matter. There is one last thing you mush know mortal if you are to survive the coming moss onslaught. A secret that will keep all of you and yours safe during this time of turmoil. And you can find it in my newest book, called "How to survive the Moss Holocaust" by Morlock Rocksbane the Blue. It's only $19.95 in the US and $23.50 in Canada. Get it shipped to your house today. Well mortal, I hope I have been able to address your query. Until next we meet, keep thine backside to the wind...so it'll....push you...or something......Farewell!!!!

From the Flame enchanted Desk of Morlock Rocksbane,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

Dear Morlock,
Why doesn't Jeffrey Jensen want to be with me? -Jena

Greetings unto you Mortal Jena,

First, I must apologize for the lateness of my response.  It would seem that even a wizard such as I am not immune to misfortune.  I found myself recently battling demons and beasts of yore on the planes ethereal. These foul creatures manifested themselves into the neighbor kids who kept stealing my mail.  Little bastards.  But none of that for now.  Now we must address your most urgent quest for knowledge.  Why this Jeffrey Jensen does not wish to be with thee.  There are three possible reasons for this.

Reason Number 1:  The possibility that you do not acutely exist, and are nothing but a swirled, theoretical mass of loose thoughts and consciousness, a by-product of the psionic menageries surrounding this planet, coalescing into the fleetest of existence in a singular point on this eight dimensional plane.  So maybe this Jeffrey Jensen does not wish to be with you since you do not actually have a corporal form in which to interact with.  Also, if that is true, there is no point in writing this piece of mail, and if that is so, my wizardly intellect tells me that I should get a sandwich.  I like pickles on them.  But never the less.

Reason Number2:  It could also be that Jeffrey Jensen is but a dimensional wanderer.  In my far travels I have stumbled upon the knowledge of using powerful spells found in the outer realms, and focusing them through M'Kareck crystals, giving shape and form to a traveler during his time in any one plane of existence.  Perhaps this entity known only as Jeffrey Jensen, senses that his time to continue on his mystical journey is drawing near, and must continue forth.  Or possibility..

Reason Number3:  He's a bastard.  

But know this young mortal.  I will take it upon myself to scrye into the magical forces of this Earth and seek the answer that is the be sought, in such a way that it answers that which we are seeking....I think.  Of course I can't do it when my soaps are on.  Darren's evil brother is back, so it's bound to be a full week.  Fare thee well mortal.  And if you seek further knowledge into the inner workings of reality, feel free to lob your questions at me, much like a questing monkey throwing his query's in poop form.  Farewell.  

From the Flame Enchanted Desk of Ternak
Morlock Rocksbane The Blue   

Dear Morlock,
How many dwarves does it take to change a light bulb?
Does it depend on whether nor not they are blond? - A Brunette Amazon

Dear Mortal,

Tis I, the great and powerful Morlock. You have come to me, seeking the knowledge of the ancients. Fortunately, I have some with me. You have asked upon me the number of dwarves it might take to change a light bulb. But here, in your question, is a myriad of of nouns and verbs. And those nouns and verbs prompt me to respond also with nouns and verbs. And I will do so, and because I am the mystical Morlock, I will even put them in an order that makes sense. First off, you must know that Dwarven light bulbs are not of the same nature as your human light bulbs. While human bulbs are based upon the concepts of electron motion, Dwarven bulbs are based on the theories of quantum... things. Now, these quantum... things, are not unlike the glowing beattle-buds who thrive within the bowels of the ancient volcano's in the land of Ratiem. The light and heat generated are caused by the following causes... WAIT. Why did I not see it before. BETRAYER. I see you for your treachery. Your question of dwarven light bulbs, poised by a brunette Amazon. You seek the knowledge of dwarven bulbs so that you may sabotage them and cast them in eternal darkness, thus ending the war between Amazons and Dwarves, dooming them to wander around forever more in the dark, never knowing light, never knowing the world, never knowing where they put the remote, or even if they are dressed properly. BAH....BAH!!!! Your dastardly ploy will not avail you. But this deed will not go unavenged. From this day forth, you shall be cursed. You will receive junk e-mail about refinancing your home or debt consolidation. You will also be plagued by pop-ups that have nothing to do with what you seek upon the mystic plane known as the "Internet" May your new found plight be a message to all others who...do....not....nice....things. Yeah. Farewell mortal. If you ever feel the need to atone for your misdeed or seek true knowledge, Morlock will there. Not outside your house or anything, because that'd be a little creepy. You get the idea. Fare thee well.

From the flame enchanted desk of Morlock,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

P.S. As a side note, it has never been determined how the factor of a blonde dwarf might affect the changing of a light bulb. For you see, most blonde dwarves do not come out of their home because they are depressed. They are depressed, because being blonde naturally makes them want to go surfing, and there are precious few waves in their mountain homes. But good question. Farewell... again.

Dear Morlock,
Why did the old lady swallow the fly? -Suzanne

Dear Mortal,

First, I must apologize for the lateness of the answer for which you seek. I was traveling in the outer realms of your reality, where reason and logic warp and curve like a toilet paper tube. But I have returned, and now, the answer for which you seek.

You seek the answer to the eternal riddle "Why did the old lady swallow the fly?" Well Mortal, the old lady for which you refer in none other than Verbathachacha, the master of all things dark, evil, and stuff that tends to be rather icky in nature. It is, as we say in the magical community, not very good. Most mortals, when they are told of Verbathachacha and her vileness, vomit so hard that their clothes will fly off their convulsing bodies. But you are a seeker of knowledge, so prepare yourself.

The reason Verbathachacha, the old lady, swallowed the fly, was to suck the very essence of life from the most insignificant of creatures. To savor that which was most precious from a being that could never pose any harm or challenge to her, for the sheer satisfaction that she could. Needless to say, it makes her very unpopular at all the wizard parties. Oh, you know how it goes. You're talking to some friend in the corner about finding good house elves and his recent vacation to a kingdom of magic, where a mouse king rules, and she just comes barging over, weaving some dark magic. She does it just to get attention you know. She's all like, "Oooh, look at me, I'm conjuring some demon from the abyss." Or, "Hey everybody, watch me rip the fabric of space-time and cause karmic suffering across the entire psychic spectrum." It is sooooo a cry for help.

Well Mortal, I hope that answers your question. If next you seek the answers of the ages, always be sure that I Morlock the Rocksbane, will answer...when I have time mind you. I mean, yeah sure, I'm a wizard and all, but I still have laundry and stuff to do. Fare thee well.

From the flame enchanted desk of Morlock,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue

Dear Morlock,
I like bow ties... why doesn't mine work? -Shane

Dear Mortal,
Ah, the bow tie. A truly confusing concept that has confounded even the most learned of scholars since the beginning of last march. But never mind this young mortal, for I shall help you unravel this mystery, hopefully not unravel your bow tie. But, before we begin, a quick lesson in history of how that which is the bow tie came to manifest itself in our reality. Many moons ago, when old people were not as old as they are now, there came Nagistar, a truly ruthless, but well dressed, wizard of the black robes. He had joined the black robes because their outfits gave him a rather nice slimming effect, but that is another tale. He would take whole towns under siege and force the local populace to wear his latest designs, which usually included uncomfortable neck garments. Now, this is the important part of our tale mortal. The people, then began to rise up against him, by wearing clashing colors that offended the evil wizards sense of fashion. He fled into the dark lands, which later became known as Iowa, to which he was never found. Since then, the people have worn bow ties to remind them to always be on guard against evil wizards, and to always dress a least a little professionally.

But, if you say unto me that your bow tie does not work, it can only mean one thing. That the evil Nagistar plans his return, and I must gather the forces of good to stop him and his ilk on the outer planes of existence, so that we are not engulfed in another dark time, a time marked by suffering, and cumbersome pants that always itch in the crotch. Either that, or you just really suck at tying yours. You should hang out with some boy scouts or something to help teach you some basic knot tying. It couldn't hurt. That is all I have to say upon this matter young mortal. If you seek other answers from me, well too bad Bucko!!!!.....I mean, feel free to ask at any moment,
for I, Morlock, will be there. Fare thee well.

From the flame enchanted desk of the Wizards Alcove,
Morlock Rocksbane The Blue

Dear Morlock,
are ther any other poor holes we might be able to find other than scotland? -Ralph

Dear Mortal,

I do so humbly apologize for not responding to your query sooner. I was battling monsters and demons of yore on the ethereal planes. Also, my neighbor Chris had all my mail and he was out at Wal-Mart when I got home. But it matters not. You seek other portals for which you can traverse the earth, do you? Well, know this mortal traveler - passing through the inter-space gates is a dangerous thing without the guide of one who is mystically enchanted, or who is certified on a mac. But, if you shall seek them, then I shall tell you where they can be sought. In strange and square land known only by the chilling name of 'Wyoming', you can find a place, a park even, which has several yellow stones. There you will find a great geyser which is both old, and faithful. There if you stick your head into it's gapping maw before it erupts with the fury of a thousand suns, you can peer into an inter-space portal, that will transport you to a really nice ristorante in Naples, Italy. There the bread sticks are so good, with some nice melted butter all over them. Oh, the the sauce is so good. It's thick with spices and ripe tomatoes. And it has the best tortellini this side of anything. Mmmmmm.....oh. Sorry.

Also Mortal, you can find another Portal of travel in the third urinal of the gift shop near the Eiffel tower. There if you flush twice, wait 30 seconds, and flush three more times quickly, before you will open a portal into the outer realms of your reality. Where that which meets that which is not. A sight that few mortals can gaze upon with out embracing insanity. I would try to describe it to you, but the few words in any human language would not suffice. But if you do go look for a guy named Harry. He's nice and he'll show you all the best places to stay in the outer realms. Just tell him Morlock sent you. I must go now, for many matters of great import demand my attention. Also, my soaps are on. Fare the well, Mortal.

For the flame enchanted desk of Morlock,
Morlock Rocksbane the Blue