Now we know what happened to unicorns.
Hugh Laurie singing “Mystery” a song that he wrote that first appeared in “A Bit of Fry and Laurie” a BBC production featuring both Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry!
This peom, entitled ”An Enigma” is one of my favorite works of Edgar Allan Poe.
An Enigma :Edgar Allan Poe.
“Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce,
“Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet-
Trash of all trash!- how can a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff-
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.”
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles- ephemeral and so transparent-
But this is, now- you may depend upon it-
Stable, opaque, immortal- all by dint
Of the dear names that he concealed within ‘t.
“His vestibule is bleeding!” “No,his vestibule is not bleeding, you imbecile. If you knew anything of basic human anatomy, you would know that a ventricle is part of your heart, and a vestibule is a room at the front of a house that the front door opens into, hand me the scalpel, would you?” “Oh, uh, these?” “That is a pair of scissors, a scalpel is that sharp knife thing-y over on that tray.” Jenkins picks up the scalpel and brings it over to me. But it was too late, the man was dead. “Call the Mortician, Jenkins” I said “then you can have the rest of the day off.” “Thank you, Sir. I’ll get right on it.” he says and hurried off, onto the cold streets of London. I sighed, Jenkins’ incompetence had cost many men their lives. It was just another dreary day, the streets were dotted with groups of people and littered with fallen leaves. At least the sky was a clear, pure periwinkle blue. There were rain-clouds on the horizon, but the rain was yet to fall. I went over to the corpse and pulled a sheet over the dead man’s face. I go over to the coat closet to fetch my coat and hat. I pulled the collar of the coat up to cover my neck against the chill. Then I stride of the door, locking the door behind me. As soon as I stepped onto the street, it began to rain, “Just my luck”, I mutter then sigh and head down the wet, dreary, leaf-littered street. Just another day, another rainy afternoon, and, just another man dead.
Yours,etc. With a great ammount of creative and linguistic help from a certain L. Mck.