Robert Peachy was perched upon the side of an extraordinarily difficult Arctic ice shelf when he spotted a figure nearing him, scaling the cliff at an impossible pace. The figure paused next to Robert, panting. "Yoo-hoo!" he said, waving a letter. "Sign here please, thank you." As the messenger descended, Robert read the letter.
The dense jungle was a riot of color and at its periphery stood an small figure in khakis and a safari hat. With a sigh, the figure pressed on, disappearing into the darkness. Many days later, diseased and starved, the figure stumbled into a clearing, uttering, "Mr Livingstump, I presume?" The famed jungle explorer turned from the plate of charbroiled gluteus maximus and said "Indeed," accepting the messenger's proffered letter.
The sun beat down upon the messenger half mad with heat and thirst clutching at a galloping camel. His kaftan whipped in the abrasive wind, and the keffiyeh upon his head was wrapped tightly around his nose and mouth. The camel eventually shambled into an encampment of billowing white tents. He fell from his camel and attempted to gasp through a parched esophagus: "L-l-aw-" A silhouette slid into view, blocking the sun. "Shh," the figure said, pressing a canteen to his lips.
The cold ate to the bone, and it was the most he could do to wave his limbs feebly for a handhold as the river carried him deeper into the deliriously dark cave system. He laboriously snapped a glow stick and in its light narrowly averted the separation of his face from his skull by a crag. An eerie green glow in the distance neared and the messenger managed to snare a outcrop and haul himself up. Sopping wet he stepped up to Alf Marcel, extending an arm that terminated with a limp, soaked letter.
The warm water was murky with a reddish substance. Jacques Cockteasu peered through his goggles and discerned it came from the swimmer that neared by the minute. Carrying a harpoon and a bag, the swimmer clutched at Cockteasu's shoulders, sending a vermilion cloud swirling between them. Bubbles burst from Cockteasu's regulator as he brought his own harpoon to bear and impaled the burgeoning shark. The visitor held up a metallic tube.
The porthole afforded a beautiful view of the Earth in her splendor, and of the stars that moved past her like the torpid surf of a cosmic sea. Buzz Glenn smiled, turning his attention to the last of his meal. Slurping down godawful reconstituted peach, his eyes wandered once more to the porthole where he yelped, propelled backwards by a reflexive kick of surprise. After a half hour of working the air lock, he had the unprecedented and impossible visitor safely inside the ship. The smell was overpowering: the man had vomited inside his suit. It was all over everything, even on the letter addressed to Buzz Glenn.
"Thank you for coming, gentlemen." The speaker nodded to each one of the gathered. "I realize your time is valuable, but this is an urgent matter that shall decide the fate of the world." A pause. "You are the elite of the elite, and your expertise will be a valuable asset to our mission. As of this moment, strange and wondrous beasts with murderous intent are rapidly—"
"Sir..." It was Buzz Glenn. "If I so may respectfully interrupt, I would like for one William Cody, to be included within this group. His courage and versatility in the face of impossible odds and great danger is unparalleled."
William Cody, messenger extraordinaire, seemed embarrassed when this was met by riotous applause.
Word Count: 599