by Tom Graves
Barrister Horatio T Neville reporting on the last will and testament of the right honorable Colonel William (Willie) G Mustard. As has been reported in the news of the past week Col Mustard was killed in a most horrible manner by savage and most certainly uncivilized natives of the Amazon basin. However, Col Mustard's will requires me to read what claims to be the true account of his death so that his family and friends will know the true facts surrounding his disappearance and alleged death at the hands of savage tribesmen of the Amazon. According to eyewitness reports from a handful of survivors and sworn to secrecy, here are the facts.
January 14, 1887 - Somewhere in the darkest reaches of the Amazon basin. Six hunters of renown, having bagged every big game animal known to man, have paid dearly for an opportunity to hunt game that was both unknown to educated men and larger and more dangerous then any that has been hunted by civilized man. Joining them, two guides claiming to have hunted the biggest of the big game animals and not only survived to tell about, but have brought home at least half of the paying customers (which half they didn't say). Noteworthy gun bearers were also in abundance and nearly as heavily armed and as skilled at the hunt as their Victorian pay masters.
Rather unfortunately things had gone wrong with the expedition fairly early and rather often and we found ourselves pursued by at least 200 natives armed by the Russians, no doubt, with relatively modern firearms and a burning desire to eat man flesh (oh wait, different movie). We made a strategic withdraw to a valley into which our guides assured us they would not pursue us.
Seems they were right for as soon as we passed the narrow defile into the valley the shots and shouts died away immediately. Oddly enough to be replaced with strange grunts, hoots, howls, splashing, thrashing, and crashing as I had never heard before in all my days in the wild. Plants and insects right out of some mad paleo scientist's fossil collection swayed in the breeze or flew through the trees.
Something was definitely amiss in Denmark. Our empty canteens of water and the threat of the angry natives working up their nerve drove us forward. I spotted water and drove off the rutted track to fill my canteen. Lucky I did for the poor chap that was following close behind had the top of his head removed by some flying monstrosity the size of a man.
Suddenly huge paleolithic creatures were ambling in all directions and then just as suddenly were scattering with thunderous bellows in all directions as a huge creature with great fangs and claws appeared in their midst. Well that was it for me and I put a slug through him. It collapsed on the road to be dispatched by others as I reloaded my gun and refilled my canteen. Oh yes, I had to dispatch a six foot lizard creature with my pistol as it sprung out of the small spring, I put all six slugs into him before he went down.
Actually things went pretty rapidly downhill from there with all manner of reptilian beasties springing out of the jungle, the water, the sky, the trees, the rocks, and holes in the ground to assault us from all sides. We carried on as we had no way of turning back. My gun bearer was chomped in two by a great beast that we had put three shells into, but failed to slow down much. A sixty foot crocodile kept us hopping for some time, till we brought up the field artillery piece and put a shell between its eyes. Even then, it took a long time dying.
Shortly after that five beasts only about six feet tall burst from the jungle and I pointed my pistol and the nearest and pulled the trigger, click, click, click... "Oh Shit! I forgot to reload!" were the words I want to be inscribed on my tomb. -- Col Mustard in the Jungle with the pistol
(Since it was an eventful evening I can only give this brief description of one of my characters)
Sailor Jack, the two fisted brawler working the "Queen's Trawler", has no widow to grieve for him, so the survivors speculated. He never spoke of a woman waiting back at Sussex and the other member of the expedition did not have the stomach to go through his pockets after he was trampled ( Yes, trampled AGAIN! no escaping destiny for me). Sailor Jack had been been with the expedition when chased by hostile natives. He had seen other members eaten or attacked by a large bird. He had made his largest contribution by helping the expedition get past the 60' crocodile, over the stone-bridge, back onto the cobblestone path but was in the way when the panic brontosuarus fled from a surging 15' crocodile. Being one of the last to die, he go no marker (not much left to bury really), no moment of silence and die flat broke.
