The Lounge is rated PG. If you're about to post something you wouldn't want your
kid sister to read then don't post it. No flame wars, no abusive conduct, no programming
questions and please don't post ads.
For once I'm not sure, but if my guess is right you won't find them here.
I was wrong as I thought it was "A Few Good Men"
Panic, Chaos, Destruction. My work here is done.
Drink. Get drunk. Fall over - P O'H
OK, I will win to day or my name isn't Ethel Crudacre! - DDEthel Crudacre
I cannot live by bread alone. Bacon and ketchup are needed as well. - Trollslayer
Have a bit more patience with newbies. Of course some of them act dumb - they're often *students*, for heaven's sake - Terry Pratchett
Well in recent times Cat has been attacking binmen with samurai swords, Kryten has been doing voiceover work wherever he can get it, and Lister has got himself a job as a proper actor (ish). No idea what Rimmer has been upto.
Every man can tell how many goats or sheep he possesses, but not how many friends.
< published under CPOPL: CodeProject Open Poetic License, original copyright remaining with author, Bill Woodruff>
Summary: Case #∞Aleph
Report by: Thomas Manchester, Vehicle Patrol Officer, Second Class
| Animal : Lulu
| Species: Bos Taurus Hybrid
| Origin of species: Nepal
| Victim : Mr. James Burley
| Name of animal, if any: "Lovely Lulu"
| Time theft reported: 02:02 GMT
I parked my patrol car at Mr. Burley's house, and, following directions given by his wife, found him at what appeared to be an unusually small cattle barn.
He appeared disheveled, face bruised and swollen, arms scratched. Appeared to be crying, softly. No sign of weapons on his person, or in the immediate area.
I approached Mr. Burley, and asked him what the problem was, and he said: " 'Lovely Lulu' ... she ... has been kidnapped."
I asked him who "Lovely Lulu" was, and he screamed:
"A dwarf from Nepal ! Don't you know what a Lulu is ?," and became highly agitated, and began intense weeping.
I told him to take his time and recover, and then, when he felt more in control, he might continue to please give details.
I looked around, while waiting for Mr. Burley to regain his composure: noticed the very small stalls, with gates no more than three feet high, and small animals' heads, somewhat like cattle, that were peeking over the tops of the gates.
After a few minutes, Mr. Burley regained his composure, and began to speak.
"Tonight, see, I comes home from me pub, and go out to me barn to say goodnight to all my Lulus, and to give a special treat, as always, to 'Lovely Lulu:' but she's not in her stall !"
I interrupted him: "Mr. Burley, Sir, are you saying that 'Lovely Lulu' is not a person, a dwarf from Nepal, but one of these small animals I see here ?"
Mr. Burley became agitated again: this time he was shouting:
" 'Lovely Lulu' is better than any goddamn person to me, damn-site better person than my wife, for starters."
I tried to calm him: "I regret your loss, Sir, but I'm here to help you, and do need to know all the details, to help you get 'Lovely Lulu' back."
That seemed to calm him down, and he began again:
"A Lulu is a rare Nepali interbreed of yak, zubu, and European cattle. Every animal you see in this barn is a Lulu, many of them bred here from an original stock of four brought back by the Nazi expedition to Tibet in 1938."
I began to question Mr. Burley's sanity at this point, and I asked him:
"Mr. Burley, this is a fascinating story, but may I ask you how the original herd survived World War II, and came, here, to England ?"
"Himmler: it was Himmler: the expedition members were all SS, you see, and when they got back, he had the herd moved to a remote area on the Austrian border, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, near the great Zugspite mountain and its glaciers; moved under high-security to a farm, there, in the kind of high mountain environment they grew up in.
They were sequestered, at the end of the war by a special branch of the English SIS in charge of finding and taking charge of all possible aspects of Hitler's military-related biological research and technology, in the mistaken belief the herd was in fact some special breed being used to develop unknown biological weapons."
"Fascinating, Mr. Burley: do go on."
"The reasons the SIS team went for the herd was related to a strange entry in one of Dr. Goebbel's recovered diaries, that mentioned the Lulus, in the same section of the diary where he talked about the V2's about to be unleashed on us. It was assumed the German phrase "Lulus unter Zugspite" was a code-name for a biological weapons program hidden in the caves in the Zugspite area."
"Then, how did they get to England?"
"The SIS team did not want to look foolish by bringing back nothing from their difficult journey to that high-altitude Zugspite area, so they brought back the four Lulus, and they were about to be roasted for a party at Allied HQ, on the anniversary of the end of the war, when Sir James Cecil Thompson, QED, Ibid., MIA, FRCSE, of the SIS, a vegetarian, put his foot down, rescued them, and had them shipped to a farm here run by my grandfather who was an old, trusted, retired member of the original "Secret Service Bureau" that became, later, the SIS, and then, later, MI6, etc."
"All right Sir, Mr. Burney; now that we understand what Lulu is, let us focus on how she was taken, and who might have taken her."
"Isn't it obvious to you ?" said Mr. Burley.
"No Sir, begging your pardon, Sir, it's not: what do you believe happened ?"
"The Germans, the ex-Nazi secret organization took her."
"Mr. Burley, the war has been over for over seventy years; there are no ex-Nazis left."
Mr. Burley became excited again then, and shouted: "No ex-Nazis left, you say ? Who do you think Eichmann was, for gods'-sakes, how about in the United States that fellow Demjanjuk or Damnedjunkjan hmmm ?"
"Mr. Burley, Sir, calm yourself: have you had any other case of theft of one of your herd ?"
"Have you had any attempts at theft of any type ever, here ?"
"Isn't it true, Mr. Burley, that people who would steal livestock, would normally steal them either to eat themselves, or to sell to some restaurant whose specialty is ..."
Don't even say that !," screamed Mr. Burley: "no one stole Lovely Lulu to eat her !"
I continued on in a calm voice: "Steady-on now, Burley: assuming the motive is not for consumption as meat, what else could there be: to be used in a freak-show; perhaps, to be used in a circus ... ? What ?"
"Oh," said Mr. Burley, sadly:, "you are so cruel to even name such horrors, but you are so wrong: there's a reason they took Lovely Lulu, and only my Lovely Lulu !"
I was getting impatient; I knew my sergeant was waiting for me to call back with an update: "Mr. Burley, Sir, please stop flogging the bushes, and tell me why anyone would steal only the one in the herd you call: 'Lovely Lulu'."
"All right," he sighed: "Lovely Lulu, and the herd, were a genetic experiment, and the actual genes of Adolf Hitler's mistress, and companion in suicide in the Reichstag underground bunker, Eva Braun, herself, were implanted into them: only in the ancestral line of Lovely Lulu were Braun's genes passed down uncorrupted."
I was in a bit of shock at this point, realizing that I was dealing with a lunatic paranoiac with a herd of dwarf cattle.
Summoning up all my stiffness, I said to Mr. Burley:
"Well, Mr. Burley, Sir, it does seem to me that you raise a matter of some larger significance here, than just your average livestock theft.
But, Sir, if I may, let me ask you one final question before I go ... and I must go, and radio my sergeant that I am all right, and let him know what's going here, before: he dispatches another squad-car unnecessarily ..."
"Well, get on with the question, Captain," Mr. Burley interjected, rather rudely, I thought.
"For your information, Sir, I am not a Captain, merely a patrol car policeman, but the question remains, and is:
Why would someone, assuming they knew that Lovely Lulu had some genetic material of Eva Braun inside her, want to steal her: what good would that possibly do them ?"
Mr. Burley gave a laugh that sounded strangely like a horse's whinny, and, at this sound, all the little creatures in the barn, made a kind of whistling-hoot sound, as in response.
"May I ask what is so funny, Mr. Burley ?"
Burley looked at me with a smile that was almost a sneer, and said: "Does the name Dolly mean something to you?"
"No, Mr. Burley, while the word 'Dolly' could have all kinds of meanings, there's nothing comes to my mind that's relevant in our current situation."
Mr. Burley looked at me with another strange look, this look suggested bemused puzzlement:
"Haven't you heard about the cloning of Dolly the Sheep, young patrol-car man ?"
"Oh, well, yes, Mr. Burley, have done, but surely you are not implying ..."
"Yes, young fool," Mr. Burley shouted:
"Lovely Lulu has been taken, to be cloned, because: they have cloned Adolf Hitler, and now they want an Eva Braun to complete their plans for unleashing chaos and disaster throughout the world, leading to the re-birth of the Fourth Reich, where Adolf and Eva will reign as absolute rulers of a Nazi-fied World ! Can't you see that is as plain as the checkered-squares on your service-hat ?"
I recalled my training, and my instructions, on how to deal with the possible dangerously mentally ill who are paranoid: so, I said, slowly:
"Mr. Burley, what you've just said has very sinister implications, indeed; now, please, excuse me, while I go and radio-in to my sergeant, who, I am sure, will pass this on up to the highest channels, who I am sure will dispatch both the SAS, and a special biological-forensic team out here."
Mr. Burley seemed calmed by this statement, perhaps, reassured he was being taken seriously, something that I recall reading was quite a helpful technique dealing with your paranoid types.
"All right, my fine young patrol-car policeman: go and make your report, now. I will go back to the house and have another fight with my wife."
I should not have done this; it was sheer impulse on my part, very unprofessional, but I couldn't help but ask Mr. Burley:
"Why should one expect to have another fight with one's wife, Sir ?"
Burley laughed again, that same horse-whinny laugh, and all the other Lulus in the barn echoed his laugh, once again, with their whistle-hoots.
Burley looked at me quizzically; I had the feeling my entire face and body were being scanned, and then, said to me:
"Son, you may be just too young, and naive, to understand this, and, my guess is you grew up on city-streets, not on a farm:
But, as you drive back to the station-house, please, think ... just think ... about why I might have called her 'Lovely Lulu.' "