Dear Reaedsers,
I apoplogise for my pooro typinpg, butt i am currentlrkty at the boattom fo the sea . I can oly get air frosm the upside#donw boart i hgold over emy haedae. Mothewr Paulualuualualuluaualauualauuaualualauaulaulaulaulaulaululaualual turewned out tiio bre e somenone who a ;pooks like Paula, bbut isntd, as is obvious from her blooooogs.
zI asm now tryingto makwe my qway to newe yyouk evem THOUASGH I WAILWLL PORBABLY RUNT OUT OF ARI BEOFR E I GTRT E THERE. DANMEAL CAPS ASLOOKC!
I jmusy atejll you a moste imwprtyanhrt pierce fo infirmantion: fsdfcauhycone riyagcrbgwr oraw87erg fbudsh snfohdi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thiw lkca fo oyxgge,
J. Lo
2.03.2007
1.21.2007
Dear readers,
Again I owe you an apology for not updating.
After setting up fort in Paula's house, quite confident that nobody could enter, I became aware that I had not blocked the fireplace. Unfortunately, before I could do so, Paula dropped into it and produced a bread knife from her jacket. She seemed angry and was not bamboozled by my makeshift palm-habit disguise.
Immediately I un-barricaded the door and ran outside, only to be confronted by a large, talking cactus. Paula failed to see him, and continued to advance on me with the bread knife, demanding to know just how much I had learned of her past. I told her I knew nothing (a lie) and that she had lost her mind.
She looked as though she was going to stab me, and she probably would have had she not been interrupted by the talking cactus (calling himself Sanchez), who seemed to recognise her. I ran for it.
As I approached the shores of Traulasia, I found a confuddled group of nuns in a large cage. They called out for help, so I approached the cage to investigate. They told me that they had been locked in their prison by Paula. I asked them if they knew where the key to the enormous lock that was containing them was, but they said that they did not. I told them that I was going to find the key and confront Paula (a lie) and that they should wait there, which I later realised was a rather stupid thing to say.
I ran to the beach and found, luckily, a kind of paddle boat operated by placing your feet on a bar and making a cycling motion with your feet. I wondered whether Charlie was on the island, but I was saved the trouble of finding a paddle-buddy by the appearance of another nun, dressed more elaborately than the others. She looked familiar, but she wore sunglasses that covered half of her face.
I approached her and she identified herself as Mother Palula. She told me that the only chance of finding the key was to paddle to the Americas, and then to find our way to New York city, where we had to find a man called Mr. Scoppetta, who could give us the key to the cage.
And so now I sit here in the paddle boat with Mother Palula, typing this message as Traulasia slowly (and I mean VERY slowly) fades from the horizon.
With leg-achedness,
G. Caprice
Again I owe you an apology for not updating.
After setting up fort in Paula's house, quite confident that nobody could enter, I became aware that I had not blocked the fireplace. Unfortunately, before I could do so, Paula dropped into it and produced a bread knife from her jacket. She seemed angry and was not bamboozled by my makeshift palm-habit disguise.
Immediately I un-barricaded the door and ran outside, only to be confronted by a large, talking cactus. Paula failed to see him, and continued to advance on me with the bread knife, demanding to know just how much I had learned of her past. I told her I knew nothing (a lie) and that she had lost her mind.
She looked as though she was going to stab me, and she probably would have had she not been interrupted by the talking cactus (calling himself Sanchez), who seemed to recognise her. I ran for it.
As I approached the shores of Traulasia, I found a confuddled group of nuns in a large cage. They called out for help, so I approached the cage to investigate. They told me that they had been locked in their prison by Paula. I asked them if they knew where the key to the enormous lock that was containing them was, but they said that they did not. I told them that I was going to find the key and confront Paula (a lie) and that they should wait there, which I later realised was a rather stupid thing to say.
I ran to the beach and found, luckily, a kind of paddle boat operated by placing your feet on a bar and making a cycling motion with your feet. I wondered whether Charlie was on the island, but I was saved the trouble of finding a paddle-buddy by the appearance of another nun, dressed more elaborately than the others. She looked familiar, but she wore sunglasses that covered half of her face.
I approached her and she identified herself as Mother Palula. She told me that the only chance of finding the key was to paddle to the Americas, and then to find our way to New York city, where we had to find a man called Mr. Scoppetta, who could give us the key to the cage.
And so now I sit here in the paddle boat with Mother Palula, typing this message as Traulasia slowly (and I mean VERY slowly) fades from the horizon.
With leg-achedness,
G. Caprice
1.06.2007
Dear Readers,
I have set up fort in Paula's old house. I have discovered many important pieces of information in her many filing cabinets. She has done unspeakable things in the past, and I must prevent her from doing the same in the future. Here is the information that I can give you safely:
Paula used to work for a company called Phoenix AG, a manufacturer of rubber-based products (including conveyor belts) based in Hamburg.
She took over the company seven years ago.
She created a palace of rubber, designed by Ikea founder Ingva Kamprad, five years ago.
The building caught fire four years ago, and continues to burn to this day.
I will continue later, as Paula is approaching the house holding what would appear to be a metre-long breadknife.
Alyss or Charlie, Help!
With something,
G. Caprice
I have set up fort in Paula's old house. I have discovered many important pieces of information in her many filing cabinets. She has done unspeakable things in the past, and I must prevent her from doing the same in the future. Here is the information that I can give you safely:
Paula used to work for a company called Phoenix AG, a manufacturer of rubber-based products (including conveyor belts) based in Hamburg.
She took over the company seven years ago.
She created a palace of rubber, designed by Ikea founder Ingva Kamprad, five years ago.
The building caught fire four years ago, and continues to burn to this day.
I will continue later, as Paula is approaching the house holding what would appear to be a metre-long breadknife.
Alyss or Charlie, Help!
With something,
G. Caprice
1.01.2007
Dear followers,
Dear me, it has been a day. I awoke this morning (New Year's Day) to find huge banners hanging all around the Isle of Lost Nuns reading "HOORAY, HOORAY! IT'S CANNIBAL DAY!" Needless to say, I was alarmed at the prospect of eating another human, until I read a nearby poster nailed to a palm tree. It read:
Dear me, it has been a day. I awoke this morning (New Year's Day) to find huge banners hanging all around the Isle of Lost Nuns reading "HOORAY, HOORAY! IT'S CANNIBAL DAY!" Needless to say, I was alarmed at the prospect of eating another human, until I read a nearby poster nailed to a palm tree. It read:
Cannibal Day Dishes
MAINS
Caprice, Garhuckle Leonard Ulrick Sherlock Torrence Ignatius
SIDE
Houston, Sister Whitney Elizabeth
Of couse, I was alarmed, not least because they spelt 'Ulric' with a 'ck' and immediately hid myself in a cave. I planned to craft a makeshift gondola to escape upon.
When I entered the cave, however, I found a trapdoor. I entered and found myself in a dirty passage, clearly dug by an inexperienced tunnel-digger. There was a sign on the wall reading "Welcome, near-eaten sister, venture forth toward escape or stay ye put for garlic-scented doom". Naturally I was more inclined towards escape than said garlic-scented doom, and so I crafted a makeshift habit of palm leaves to disguise myself as a Lost Nun.
I followed the passage for (I assume) many days. Eventually the passage began to ascend, and ultimately ended in another trapdoor. I pushed it open, and the sight that met my eyes made me speechless; I was staring at Paula's livingh room from beneath a rug. I exited the passage, and replaced the rug that had been concealing it.
What now, I do not know. I am disconcerted by the suddenly apparent shadowy mysteries of Paula's past.
With an interesting, yet unpleasent emotion,
G. Caprice
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