The Quest of Edmund and Victoria: Lost Island of Lambooshka

The Quest of Edmund and Victoria

Just behind a narrow strait containing two lofty and luminous waters were the principle streets and pavements of the early 19th century London city of Bloomsbuggah.

The streets were always beautiful and bustling-brilliantly refined and well-lit-but never too imposing or garish. The deliciously cool and crystalline opaque waters were always a fine sight to see for the travelers and adventurers coming in from courageous expeditions on their horses and carriages, gently trit-trotting along the pavements and bridges seeking to exchange goods with merchants and engage in the fine luxuries of trade and business.

One such traveler was a young man dressed in a dark black suitcoat with designs at the bottom that almost would make you confuse him for a pirate.

This young lad was named Edmund Chapman. He was a nutmeg salesman by trade and had been scouring the lands in search of rare spices and goods-usually coming up short. Struggling to make ends meet he would enter all assortments of contests and competitions such as target shooting, submitting architectural design plans, and even cheese crafting. He dismounted his horse and went to 1852 Petunia Street to give his annual report of sales that had been made that year. But there was something peculiar about the goth old gargoyle statue laden building that was unkempt and dilapidated. Peculiar in that the building was entirely empty today.

Edmund slowly opened the door and found himself nearly slipping in some distasteful brackish liquid that had been left there. He slowly navigated his way through the dark corridors and circular stairways downwards with his trusty lantern-taking care not to make too much noise in case some horrible kidnapping or arrest had been in process. When Edmund finally made his way to the bottom floor he saw an old man whom he had never seen before.

"Ah, have a seat. You look malnourished. Have some refreshing Chamomile tea and buttered biscuits-finest in all of Bloomsbuggah" said the old man.

Edmund simply shrugged.

"That's all well and bloody good-but who the hell are you?" asked Edmund.

"That is no concern of yours," replied the old man in an oddly embarrassed tone. Edmund looked even more confused.

"Where's Mr. Baker?" asked Edmund.

"OH, Mr. Baker. Haha, yes old chap. Mr. Baker how could I forget the man? He took the day off to help his daughter get that job at the pet shop he did. Forgive my manners. My name is Typhoon. Monty Typhoon-not my real last name obviously. There's reasons for that I'd rather not go into at this time" said Monty disengaging his neck from its current position-stretching forward like a turtle coming out of its shell. Edmund laughed.

"You have to understand where I'm coming from. There was nothing posted-no closed signs-absolutely nothing. Yet I'm supposed to come down here into this sodding place. I mean quite honestly it looks like a scene from Edgar Allan Poe," protested Edmund.

"You wouldn't be wrong in making that assumption. People have died down here looking for a portal" replied Monty.

"Forgive me-but-you speak of a portal?" asked Edmund.

"Yes, it's sealed off now most don't realize it. A portal to an alleged land known as Lambooshka, I don't really believe in it. I think it's nothing more than

a good news story" said Monty.

"Oh really? How about the fact that I lost my father to wild geese this week? They ruthlessly butchered him" said Edmund. Monty laughed.

"Haha, no they didn't, silly lad! Geese don't kill people!" said Monty.

"But-but in this case they did. You have to realize something when geese are highly disturbed they are dangerous" said Edmund.