 - Last login: 33 hours agoTextuous
- Textuous is a 51 year old guy from Near-N-Yondered, Texas, USA.
- Likes 6 pages • 79 fans • Received 48 reviews
- Member since Mar 30, 2006
Antique Cowboy with tarnished six-shooter, rusty spurs, and swaybacked steed. Garage kept, housebroken, and mannerful. Grammatically textuous, with traces of chivalry and dance-floor etiquette. If you read the blog...the least you can do is leave me a smile.
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Striking a match by which to see, the chemist was almost struck breathless. Here, in the master's chambers, beneath the lone window, was a casket of the most elegantly polished black hardwood. He thought it odd that there was nary a speck of dust anywhere upon it, but he quickly forgot this when he noticed that the wood was inlaid with the most intricate decorations...of pure gold.
Within seconds, Luden realized that he was rich. The coffin alone would more than cover the purchase price of all three houses. Lighting one match after another, he inspected his prize with great care. Tomorrow, he would return for his treasure.
Suddenly, he thought of robbers and theives of the night...and so intense was his feeling of greed that he forgot the match in his hand until it burned his fingers. No...he must not take a chance on losing such a fortune...he must secure it tonight.
The casket was mounted on one of those heavy carts with wheels, and it was no problem to manuver it out of the room and pull it quickly down the hallway...(other than the constant need to replenish his light source). Upon reaching the end of the hallway, only then did he remember the board, and the missing stairs. Striking yet another match, he surveyed the situation for a few brief seconds before the match flame died away, leaving him in total darkness.
Reluctantly, Luden realized that he would never be able to get the coffin down to the ground without several good men and a wagon load of rope and rigging. He would simply have to leave the thing there, and return the following day. Yet he took comfort in the fact that no one could steal the treasure during the night.
Feeling with his fingers, he noticed that there were only two matches left...one with which to negotiate the board, and the last to light his way outside. Striking the first match, he turned for one last look at the gold reflecting in the light from the flame.
At that precise instant, the two front wheels on the cart collapsed, in part from the years of holding up the weight of the coffin, and in part from his mad dash down the hallway. Luden's eyes widened as he saw the casket, now tilting precariously forward, begin to slowly slide towards him. Once again, the match burned his fingers, and he shook his hand violently.
As he fumbled to strike his last match, his feet began to search frantically for the end of the board. When the flame finally sprang to life, he turned quickly and began his precarious, wobbly, tippy-toe journey down to the second floor. With a loud crash. the coffin slid completely off the cart, and glancing backwards in terror, he saw that it had perfectly balanced itself on the board with him, and was quickly gathering momentum down the slope.
The mind of the young man began to race. He doubted that the board would support the weight of both him AND the casket, especially once that weight reached the center of the board. Should the wood break, not only would the coffin smash itself to worthlessness below, but he would probably be killed in the process. Stumbling slightly, he felt the casket bump solidly into his leg on it's way downward, and he reached behind him in a futile effort to impede it's progress with his hand. That's when he felt the lid of the coffin move slightly, and begin to open of it's own accord...and he suddenly remembered the lack of dust on the lid.
As the final match blistered his fingers one last time, he let it go, and as he watched the glowing ember fall away into the nothingness below, he suddenly knew there was only one thing left to do.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cough drop, popped it into his mouth, and the coffin stopped.
Meyer
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