Re: The End of the World!

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: : Hello, hello...attention Mohicanlanders, it is I, Sissy Doomsayer, Sassy's Sad Sister...is anyone there?  I usually keep to my dark room, where I spend my time muttering & moaning to myself over the price of tea in China, the state of the economy, the lapse of good taste everywhere, and the miserable condition of the world at large.  But once in awhile I am compelled to venture forth, shrieking my tales of gloom and doom at the rooftops, and hurling my predictions of death and destruction at any old wattle hut nearby.  Such is my mood today!

: : It's all coming apart, you know...first She-Who-Tracks vanishes into the trackless forest, then Sheriff Benton (just call me Bent) Twigg wanders away, leaving poor Miss Marcia to disappear by her lonesome lone, as well. (I'm afraid they will never be seen alive and well again.  Probably perished of starvation in the woods somewhere, alone and afraid, each and ev'ry one of them!) Then Ye Olde Town Crier quits crying, and the various traders aren't trading, and Bumppo's Tavern has a clearance sale on Old Frothingslosh (the pale, stale ale with the foam on the bottom, brewed from the murky waters of the Upper Crudney River)due to no one showing up at the tavern to drink the stuff!  And then, when things look their bleakest, up pops some smarty pants Efficiency Expert trying to tell us how best to spend our time. It's all going to Hell in a handbasket, I tell you!  The world as we know it is coming to an end!!  The sky is falling!!  Ack!! Urk!!  WE'RE ALL DOOOOOOOOOOOMED!!

: : Run for cover, ye who are left!!  Run far, run fast!!  It's your last chance!!  

: : Glumly Yours,
: : Sissy Doomsayer
: : Motto:  It's always darkest....period.

: Dear Sissy Doomsayer,

: It would do well to advise you to calm down, hush up, and stop your doomsaying before you find your sad self before a magistrate. Our Traders have requested that we correct your falsities before you bring about a bear market. The prices of Tea in China and elsewhere are stable and fair. The state of the economy, as judged by the Traders' purses, is as shiny as a new shilling. Good taste for all things marketable is evidently flourishing as the publics' consumption of various merchandise is on the rise. As for misery in this large world; who cares? As long as the cash flows as freely as does the Brandy, all's well.

: Our Traders have furthermore requested that we publicly proclaim their intention to sue you for every last pence should you hurl so much as a pebble at their wattle huts.

: Regarding the disappearance of She-Who-Tracks and Sheriff Bent Twigg, we should remind you of the dangers of following this trail. The Courier Editors have already cast unfounded suspicions upon our noble Traders and consequently, legal matters are at hand. Should you persist in spreading tasteless rumors about She's & He's predicaments, you may very well find yourself in shackles. 

: Ye Olde Towne Crier hasn't ceased crying. She's merely enjoying her new found stardom and is wisely making the most of it. Those new BLACK SATIN treads have proven to be just the right attire for Mohicanland's Ballroom where Ye Olde Towne Crier can be found each evening dancing the night away. She'll cry again, not to worry. The Traders are trading and Bumppo's is still bumping.

: Our Traders have further requested that we inquire of you the results of your panic stricken run to the Spanish Territories in the early hours of the First Day of January? Have you located the infamous Fountain of Youth? 

: In closing, Miss Sissy Doomsayer, we must firmly demand that you amend your doomsaying ways and find a hobby to occupy your time in less damaging manner. Our Traders take their business seriously and are not inclined to permit your doomsaying to lessen their profits.

: Respectfully Yours,

: Traders' Esquire and Spokespersons


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