Sir Tom’s Quest for Love continues…at the beginning, with an introduction…
PART 1: A Quest for Love…Sir Tom’s troubled journey
Sir Tom is a gallant soul, an unusually gentlemanly gentleman of his age…and boy, it’s a biggun! His age that is. His journey through an exceptional life, though some may term it dreary (well, most people in Fact…wherever that is, although Census figures indicate it has quite a large population), has been paved with cobblestones of primitive manufacture…and therefore rough…since stone tools have been the norm for the greater part of his journey through prehistoric times until the precisely recent, and therefore present, now. And the one true, and quite correct, constant in his quite remarkable journey has been his never-ending Quest for Love. Why never-ending? Well, to put it in simple terms, a quite apt endeavour when you consider Sir Tom’s simplicity, it has, in Fact (but he gave up looking there a long time ago, and has now searched extensively elsewhere), never…ummm…ended.
Why you ask? You didn’t?! Well, pardon me for bothering!! But I shall, for I must, for I should tell this epic telling because I’m bored, for I quite like babbling, and for sure you will not rest until I do…maybe. So these are thus…not the telling of the tale for there’s a heck of a long way to go there, I can certainly assure you. These thus are the reasons why his Quest for Love has never ended.
The first of many that I shall soon expound upon with some expansion, reasons that is, and it’s a barely acceptable reason in my book, or in my Red Bubble Writing Bloggy Thingy, is the inconsequential (or it should be in matters of the heart!) matter of his appearance…or the disappointment of it thereof to the far too many unfortunate enough to view it. Now…far be it for me to comment on said appearance…but I will, since this is my telling of his tale, and his appearance has great relevance to said telling tale…but reason number one, and the first, is that Sir Tom has less than what may be termed “aesthetic appeal”.
He is a man of extravagant vertical excessiveness, optical inadequacy, nasal preposterousness, follicular insufficiency (although the 53 strands remaining are quite luxuriant), chronological decrepitude, and multi-levelled chin. Pathetic isn’t it? No, not his appearance!! The fact that shallow aesthetic appeal, or in Sir Toms’ case repulsive aesthetic disgust, has weighed so heavily against a man of such gallantry, such gentlemanly demeanour, such cheeky humour, and such intellectual achievement (well, he has got a well thumbed Thesaurus), in his Quest for Love.
Hence why I’m writing this missive, or the purpose of this diatribe, or it’s “raison detre”. It’s…(how does one say it in English? Which should be easy for me since English is a language wot I is kwite proffishant at, and French not at all, although I’m partial to it’s aural pleasures…quite mellifluous sounding isn’t it?)…it’s…it’s…for unnecessary want of a more accurate translation…it’s “reason for being”!
It is, and therefore now exists…the telling tale that is…to detail the leviathan lows, the mundane middles, and the hardly happened highs in his said, and to be told, Quest. To expose for all the world to see (or at least the few that can be bothered and have an internet connection) the tragic injustices in the failure of his said, and to be told slightly less of now, Quest. Soon you will see (I hope, for it would be quite challenging to read this Otherwise…if that is, in reality, your name), that Sir Tom’s pursuit of romance…or the dating game, the finding of a soul-mate, the odd bottom pinch even, and if I may be so bold as to proffer such a smutty phrase, the extremely rare bit of Nookie…has been less than Triumphant (and he has an appalling record let me tell you!), and sadly saddening to anyone who knows him well (and has been fortunate enough not to actually see what he looks like).
And, if there IS such a thing as justice in this harsh, cruel, and quite cliched, world, perhaps to offer him a glimmer of hope…a shining light at tunnel’s end…a chance to take a nibble of his forbidden fruit…a beacon of luminescence…a ray of phosphorescence…in his sad, sorry, said, and even less to be told now, never-ending Quest. That one day a reader of this telling tale, with an attractively feminine bottom, will see beneath Sir Tom’s truly, totally, tacky exterior. That one day this reader, for I cannot imagine there could be more than one, will proffer him the chance to end his Quest triumphant. That one day (not next Monday though, he’s got to do the shopping) a reader will give him the Love for which he so stridently strives. That one day (next Tuesday’s free for him) a reader’s soul will soar toward the Heavens (somewhere near East Gippsland in country Victoria in case you haven’t got a map, not too far from Fact), and unite as one with his.
And let him cheekily, joyously, lovingly…and any other adverb of apt and suitable expression…pinch her bottom. When she hasn’t got a headache, of course.
So let the Quest for Love continue, and my telling of Sir Tom’s tale (who, coincidentally and by way of an aside, has quite an attractive tail himself) begin! Just beyond this beginning…in the next post…
This is a (hopefully humorous) tale of my strangely altered ego, Sir Tom. He was invented a few years ago when I was heavily into Yahoo writing groups.
It will soon become obvious that in writing this all rules of the English language are either ignored, or stretched to their absolute limits…but that’s the point. Sir Tom is a buffoon, and that’s the way I wanted the writing to portray him. He’s a man of extremely undeserved belief in his own self importance, a particularly verbose vocabulary, a rather unattractive physical appearance, and monumental age…and for some reason he still thinks the girls love him!!
So this is the tale of his search for a love that has, and most probably always will, elude him…not surprisingly….as you’ll soon discover if you can endure reading this.
Hope you enjoy…or even just ‘getting it’ would be good :)