From Below

  Meanwhile The Dead Poets Society members were circling the inky aperture.

     "'Tis indeed a yawning maw," intoned one.

     "Ripped it is, a wound so raw," marvelled another.

     "I seek to know its contents rare," said yet another.

     "Go right ahead, but we ain't going down there," shouted the Society in unison.

     "Damn poets," muttered Eloosive as the entire crowd jostled for a better view of the hole. 

     There was another long groan from below: "Gggrrraaahhhgggoowweeennnppppghawaagaaaahhh."

     "Sounds more like a grackle. I wouldn't have spelled it like that," said The Mist to Bucknuck.

     "But we're not writing this chapter," answered Bucknuck.

     "But that's Sly's groan," argued Redhat, "No author should put birds in his mouth."

     The patrons began debating the proper prose for painful pronounciations.  Then, the value of forced alliteration. The Dead Poets Society joined the discussion, shouting arguments in iambic pentameter.

     Finally, Sly ended the argument with irrefutable logic..

     "That's not my groan. I'm right here," he said.

     "No you're not," he said.

      "Holy Dung," yelled Kellan, who was staring into the depths.  "This you've gotta see."

      McKenzie peered into the hole.

      "Wow. Looks like....like," he said. "But it's hard to make out from here. It's about a ten-foot drop. Mist, why don't you and K-Man just float down and see what all the fuss is about?"

      The two patrons descended slowly into the abyss. .

      There were whistles and exclamations of amazement from far below.

      "What is it?" asked Bella breathlessly.

      "Whistles and exclamations of amazement from far below," answered Archi tersely. The two exchanged stony stares.

      "You'll never believe it," yelled K-Man. "There's a grave and a headstone down here."

      "Wait!" wailed Mist from below, drowning out K-Man. "There's another grave over here. It ain't got a headstone. It's got a...a....a periscope."

      Upstairs, there was a sudden burst of joy. The patrons laughed and hugged and danced in jubilation.

      "What is it?" asked a Dead Poet. "What's going on?"

      "Finally," laughed Rose. "Finally. Don't you see? Finally this story has a plot.

      "And a sub-plot."

The End

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