New Species Discovered

By Alice Sycorax

Bamboozle Times Chronicle Herald

A new species has been discovered just off the cost of Fergaria-Finbarton on Birthday Island by the country's top scientist, thinkers, writers and law enforcers.

This rare species which resembles a big brown furry dragon was discovered when it had kidnapped journalist Sarah Evans, took her to her nest and forced her to say unspeakable names to enjoy the effects, much like alcohol and ice cream is enjoyed by humans and Neptunian's alike because she resigned as reporter at the now defunct Bamboozle Chronicle Herald. Something thought to be legend but now appears to be true.

"I warned Miss Raven Hair when she walked out those doors," said Adrianne Lawrence Co-Editor in Chief of Bamboozle Times Chronicle Herald.

"I wished Bertha had eaten her and her womanly bits," added Nigel Bottington, who thinks he is also a co-editor in chief but not really.

Sarah has since befriended this new species called Brown Fergarian Ridgeback and is known to scientists as Brown Fergus Finbrownstin Fergalarius.

"It was quite an odd experience," said Ms. Evans, who tells of her experience with the big brown furry dragon named Bertha.

However, Sarah noted it shied away from the names that causes headaches, chicken behaviour and the one associated with board games and favoured the unspeakable names that mad you laugh and have a good nap. These names will not be written due to their devastating affects on readers.

"She was quite intrigued by unspeakable names, which I think are quite ridiculous. Nevertheless she had me say them over and over again. One of the names was of my good friend, but it causes headaches so she wasn't too keen on it," said Ms. Evans.

Oddly Bertha didn't keep Sarah for the six months as the legend indicates but for three months because she figured she was "a writer rather than a journalist." It was later found out that her time with Bertha was punishment for leaving her post at Bamboozle Chronicle Herald despite the fact that she has a mandatory order from the court not to practice journalism for six months and serve six weeks of p.o.l.m. duty for her libel case against Mrs. Lachlan's Mum.

Luckily, Ms. Evans her friend Finbar, a big brown dog rescued Sarah by convincing Bertha to allow Sarah to attend her p.o.l.m. duty sooner, reminding her kidnapping and holding Sarah against her will was a criminal offence, regardless of journalism folklore.

"I guess someone forgot to tell Sarah that journalists are secretly supposed to practice reporting anyways," says Co-Editor In Chief of Bamboozle Times Chronicle Hearald Adrianne Lawrence. "That's what pen names are for. She should have been informed of this!"

"There is no word yet if Ms. Evans plans to return to our newspaper," she adds. "And denies any accusations that's Ms. Evans is in fact Eva Rhasans, the author of the best selling tell all book regarding the Song of the Superheroes agency and the Paris Teddington Scandal, based on inside facts from Amelia Writer Features, Captain Finbar Fergarious of the FFBI and thus written like a parable for children, but in fact very much adult.

Nigel Bottington who still thinks he is co-editor, blames everything thing on Sarah, but wouldn't "mind having her on the team for some odd reason." Ms. Evans has yet to comment.

In an odd twist Bertha was kidnapped by a Bamboozle Times Chronicle Herald journalist Amanda Beaverton soon after Sarah's safe return in hopes to use Bertha as a heater for her trip to Alaska.

Top scientist at Fergaria Finbarton National University Professor Date Keakin was baffled by this turn of events and demands Ms. Beaverton return Bertha to her native habitat so the university can fully study her.

"So far we have determined that Fergarian Ridgebacks are hydro breathing not fire breathing and all she (Ms. Beaverton) could hope to use Bertha for is to make a nice cup of tea," said Prof. Keakin. "Something of which Ms. Evans said Bertha was very talented at."

Sarah Evans being seen at Amanda Beavertons house has neither been confirmed or denied, says Ms. Lawrence.

Three months later…

Ashleigh is taking a walk through Balderdash Park. Philis is visiting her eldest sister Phoebee in Tomfoolery Terrace against Ashleigh's strict warnings. However, Philis pointed out her "fat life" is in no danger as Gerry the Carnivourous Giraffe is Phoebee's pet and is nothing but a big scardy.

Recently Ashleigh took on a job writing scripts for the Bamboozle Dinuba Dinner Theatre as well as her duties as planetarium manager. She takes walks to think of new nerdy art house ideas and to get a break from Philis who fulfilled her life long dream and now works as a waitress at the dinner theatre. Ironically it is the first and only restaurant in Bamboozle to hire a heavyset waitress. It is common knowledge it wasn't just a dinner theatre Ashleigh and Philis worked for, but no one could prove it, not even Sarah Evans.

Ashleigh continues her walk through the beautiful rainforest walk. It is so elegant and glamorous the beautiful Officer Octogenarian might have felt threatened in the presence of the gorgeous fauna and flora. In fact he is which is he is thought to never go there. It is thought that he is afraid he'll blend in and no one will notice his beautifulness anymore. It's the perfect place to build a dinner theatre, the perfect place for the Dog Army. Bamboozle's notoriously beautiful crime fighter would never ever be seen here…

Her nirvana is suddenly interrupted.

"Ashleigh, Ashleigh, terrible news!" says Roland, a black Labrador, with an adorable yet annoying smiley type face.

"What?" Ashleigh replies, a bit annoyed at the announced interruption.

"Our Author friend has died," Roland whined. "You know Sarah Evans. I saw her book this morning you know that means she has passed on to writer heaven. You know the system of signs, the place all great writers go."

"What?" Ashleigh repeats, dumbfounded. "Eva Rhasans?"

Someone obviously said double-unspeakable names, probably at the bookshop they frequently sneak into (being NERD nerdy retard weird dogs and all), where they saw Sarah's book, most likely no one had a dictionary as a precautionary measure. Ashleigh was only able to remain grounded in reality as she had her thesaurus with her.

"Yes but it's an anagram of Sarah's name and therefore Sarah, ergo she is an author," says Barthes, his Husky companion continues. Husky as in the dog not husky as in husky, but you know the breed of dog…

"Ummm why is that terrible?" Ashleigh asks. "Besides you're supposed to keep that a secret!" She sits down on the park bench hoping to talk some sense into Roland and Barthes. "You walked by the literary theory section didn't you guys?"

"Maybe," says Roland.

"Quite possibly," Barthes adds.

It had happened before once a university student studying journalism, culture and literature at FFNU inquired about Roland Barthes to a nearby librarian. As both dogs often sneak into the university library ignoring the no dogs allowed rule and gather research for the Dog Army. This one simple question set them in to hysterics about Jacques Derrida and his dictionary metaphor as the university student happened to be standing near the section about post-structuralism and deconstruction. Ashleigh who frequents the library had to beat the university student who turned out to be Sarah as well as everyone within a five metre radius with an old 1964 version of the Fergarian Oxford Dictionary. The vein of literary theory library patrons were obsessed with eventually stopped and the four of them have been friends ever since.

"Well if she's an author she is dead!" Roland remarks, completely ignoring Ashleigh. "DEAD!" The unspeakable affects still apparent.

"Yes and I she must be pregnant too," Barthes adds.

"Let me guess they are all readers," says Ashleigh. "You do realise that an author's death is only metaphorical."

"What?" says Roland.

"Sarah isn't dead," says Ashleigh. "She was merely the first reader. Readers are the ones that say what a book is about. Therefore there are no authors only readers and the author therefore enters a symbolic death."

"I don't understand!" says Barthes.

"Sarah's isn't dead," says Ashleigh. "It's to do with the system of signs. Language doesn't belong to the author. It belongs to everyone. Therefore there can be no authors anyways only interpreters."

"But she is an author not an interpreter!" says Roland. "Authors die. Interpreters work at pregnant old lady man conferences and translate old Fergarianese."

"And then readers are born," Barthes continues. "But when they become an author they die."

"You're misconstruing an entire theory," says Ashleigh.

"So are you coming to the funeral?" asks Roland, completely ignoring Ashleigh's intellect and seeing it as nothing but nonsensical answers.

"AN ENTIRE THEORY!" Ashleigh bellows.

"You're are so disrespectful," Barthes growls. "Have you no respect for authors? No respect for your friends?"

"She is being disrespectful to authors," a lonely dejected voice in the background calls. "Lets get her!"

"Yeah! Good idea Watson lets get her!" says Roland.

Ashleigh is suddenly chased from the park towards a dirty alley way by a black American cocker spaniel, a black and white Shih Tzu-Terrier of all cuteness, (both of which are important enough to be named later as nothing of ill will is intended towards them) and the aforementioned Roland and Barthes, who are coincidentally named after the French structuralism literary theorist Roland Barthes who actually conceived the idea, that was misinterpreted by the Ashleigh's pursuers.

Her predicament became direr as she is currently being chased up a tree by four dogs all with names, two have been introduced and two are to be mentioned momentarily.

"You're so disrespectful," Roland still insists.

"Sarah isn't dead!" Ashleigh shouts back.

"But, but," Barthes begins.

"Hey Ash-Lady," says the black, balding and docile looking cocker spaniel who began the pursuit, (but only showed up now because he is a pregnant old lady man dog and has very little energy.)

"Watson!" says Ashleigh in surprise. "It's, it's…"

"I know, I know its Ashleigh, not Ash-Lady, like mother like daughter," Watson replies with mild uncaring. "Anyways I was thinking back to earlier…"

"Before or after you had these two numbskulls chase me?" says Ashleigh.

"Yes, yes before we chased you," says Watson. Although, you wouldn't call what he did chasing. It was more like angry relentless walking.

"You said authors were interpreters, but technically I believe Roland Barthes said they were the first readers."

"So!" says Ashleigh, annoyed that she had been corrected, but more annoyed that she is stuck in a tree. "Eavesdropping on peoples conversations again?"

"Just thought I'd clarify that!" says Watson.

"So, says Roland. "If Sarah isn't dead, then how come we can't find her?

"Last time I heard she was doing P.O.L.M. duty," Ashleigh snapped.

"Hey," says Barthes. "Don't talk to Roland like that."

"Shut up!" says Ashleigh.

The little white and black shih-tzu-terrier puppy that decided to join in on the fun cannot figure out why his new friend Ashleigh is so angry at this very moment. I guess the fact that she was chased up a tree escapes his small, small but cute little wittle mind. Was it mentioned that he is the cutest most adorable puppy in the entire world? Apologies go out to him if it wasn't.

"ALBERTICUS!" says Ashleigh. "What are you doing here?"

"Every won was dowing it," he replies. "We were off to the store to get vitamin E for Waston's earws."

"Hev-Lady, I mean Hevlynn isn't going to be mad at you," Ashleigh warns. "She blames everything on you Bert."

Yes, yes she certainly does…

"Why would she be mad at us?" says Watson. "I am so despicably handsome with my cuddly brown eyes and fro-hawk and well Alberticus that is self explanatory!"

"Wewl just cawl you a wiar," says Alberticus.

"Shut up!" says Ashleigh. "And stop pretending you have a speech impediment because it's annoying."

"But it makes me cutter if I have a speech problems," Alberticus replies.

"Hey," says Roland. "We don't want to shut up! And don't go pick on Bertie just because he chooses to have this so called speech impediment. "

"Yeah so there," says Barthes. "You disrespectful author hater."

"SARAH IS NOT DEAD!" Ashleigh shouts. "Alberticus is only talking like that because he is going through some identity crisis and can't figure out what he is even though it's pretty obvious he is a shih tzu- terrier."

"Yeah, I forgowt to tewl you guys that shew was a polm conferwence," Alberticus replies. "By the way I am a Great Dane."

"But Barthes and I already told Officer Octogenarian that she's dead!" says Roland.

"Oh oh," said Alberticus. "That might expwain his sudden appwearance with Sam-Wady. Did I mention that I think I am a Great Dane?"

"Yes," says Roland, "several times. Wait! Didn't you think you were a Golden Retriever yesterday?"

"I think it's pretty evident that you are a shih tzu," Barthes adds. "But enough about Bert's identity crisis. Sarah is not dead? But actually was attending a POLM conference?"

"Well I was going to tell you but you insisted on bugging the know it all here, "says Watson, annoyed as hell, about Alberticus's identity crisis.

"Go away!" says Ashleigh. "Or I will tell Hev-Lady on you."

"She is going to tell Hev-Lady on us," says Watson. "Lets get her.

"Yes wets," says Alberticus. "Because I will gewt bwamed for wit all as aways."

The canines advance towards the tree that was safely harbouring Ashleigh, but they realised it maybe more difficult for them than previously thought.

"Hey Ashwey, aren't you supposed to be on POLM duty too," Alberticus remarks.

"I have a justifiable excuse," says Ashleigh.

"Which is?" the dogs say in unison.

"You nit wits chasing me up a tree screaming and ranting about an author friend who you believe to be dead, but really isn't, because yet to be named douche bag said the double-unspeakable name whilst you two were at the book store."

"Maybe she chocked on a hotel while playing Monopoly with the Polms," Roland suggests.

"Or maybe you're an idiot and she isn't dead," Ashleigh insists.

"You're mean," says Barthes.

An hour passes…Ashleigh feels restless and anxiety as two dogs below her wait patiently to either pester her about nonsensical anxieties relating to literary theory. The other two, a pregnant old lady dog who will most likely be passive aggressive towards her for not believing the other two will rub his pregnant old lady dog ear smell all over her and of course the other one who believes at this point he is a Great Dane will attempt to bite her toes off and steal her socks, just because, knowing it has nothing to do with what the other three dogs are concerned about. Seeing as he already somehow stole her shoes or confiscated them when she tried to drop him on his cute little head. Which is kind of an odd character flaw?

My goodness if I have to make another trip to Fido-Mart for socks I'll have blown my weekly budget, Ashleigh thinks. Not that she is concerned she does get a 2.5 % discount.

"Hey NERD come down here and face us like a woman," says Watson.

"Ashwey?" says Alberticus. "Can I have your socks?"

"NO!" Ashleigh bellows. "These are my last pair you shit head!"

"Come on it's been hours!" says Roland. "Just admit that you're an author hater and will let you go."

"NO!" says Ashleigh. "I am right and you are wrong! Admit that and I might come down!"

"But, but we have substantial literary proof from Roland Barthes right in very essay," says Barthes. "I've read it several times there is no denying my logic. I am a smart Husky you know."

"Husky cross," says Ashleigh."

"No way I'm a purebred," he insists.

"Your mom was border collie, husky cross, (may she rest in peace) and your dad is Australian sheep dog/ German Sheppard/ poo head," says Ashleigh. "You're a mutt get over it."

"He's a mutt!" says Watson let's get him.

"Let's not," says Roland. "You hurt my Husky friend and I'll poo all over you."

Perhaps now would be a good time for Ashleigh to make her escape as the dogs are arguing. Unfortunately a few minutes Ashleigh hears the distinct rev of a chainsaw bellow her, slowly eating away at the bark, her safety zone. Her socks are still of primary importance to her after all.

Hey you," says a ruggedly handsome lumberjack. Ashleigh suddenly appreciates the view. (He was far too handsome to be a lumberjack.)

"What?" says Ashleigh still apprehensive about climbing down from the tree, but not completely as she was overcome with desire to make sweet, sweet love to him. If she could sneak over to the café next door (Not to be confused with the trendy pink one Mrs. Lachlan's Mum and Princess Jo visited the other day before her untimely demise.) and buy him some refreshment in the form of red cordial and seduce him…Wait the café next door! She notices a raven haired beauty in the distance. Her heart sings as she hasn't seen her in many months, no thanks to Bertha the Big Brown Furry Dragon.

"This tree is scheduled for demolition." The lumberjack interrupts her thoughts.

"Since when do park trees get chopped down?" Ashleigh replies, still focusing intently on the café next door.

"Since I need kindling for my fire," says the lumberjack.

"You douche! I'm hiding from those dogs seeing as they can't climb up here and attack me."

"Which dogs?"

"The ones right there!" Ashleigh points to the furry quadrupeds hiding behind the massive tree trunk.

"Ummm hello?" says Watson appearing from behind the bark of the well aged tree.

"What do you want again?"

"To cut down this tree," says the lumberjack. He revs his chain saw for effect.

"We're in the middle of an argument. Go away!" says Roland.

"Beat it!" says Barthes. "Come back later or Bert will bite off your shoes and steal your socks."

"Well that won't do," says the lumberjack. "I like my shoes and socks."

"Hey guys," Ashleigh shouts down the tree to the expectant dogs and the perpetually confused lumberjack. "Sarah's not dead!"

"Liar!" says Barthes.

"No it's true!" says Ashleigh. "I can see her from here!

"How do you know?" says Roland.

"Because she is in that there writerly café and I have a very good view from this tree, no thanks to you douche bags."

"Now, now, you need to talk a little nice to your furry friends," says the lumberjack. "You need to spread the love. How about you four guys go and check to see if this nerds observations are correct so she can climb down and I can continue with my work?"

"He is going to cut down a tree let's get him!" says Watson.

"Let's not!" says the lumberjack.

"Well then we shall take a look," says Barthes. And sure enough Ashleigh is correct. Sarah sits in the Writerly Café despondent and tired, whether it was from her abduction by Bertha or three months of enforced Polm duty in which she watched pregnant old lady men fight over a monopoly game, meanwhile making sure they didn't swallow any of the pieces (particularly the hotels.) It was a dastardly stressful job. However Sarah found solace in this café, a place of many assortments of herbal teas, coffee (which of course she never drinks), cookies, donuts, dictionaries, thesauri, journals and harmony. These wonderful things were disrupted by a certain visitor a NERD nerdy retarded weird girl visitor as well as her canine companions outside.

"Hey Sarah," says Ashleigh apprehensively. "Wow it has been a while." The words spilled from Ashleigh's mouth awkwardly.

"Six months!" Sarah replies coldly.

"Yeah so ummm...what have you been up too?" Ashleigh says casually forgetting to notice how terribly annoyed Sarah is. The stink eye or the look that says "I go away I hate you" is hard not to notice but whatever. She has scowl that could send a pregnant old lady man to an early grave.

"It's been all over the news!" Sarah snapped.

"That's why I am asking," Ashleigh replies. "Because you never can tell if it's accurate these days since all the good journalists have gone missing."

"Some friend you could have written!" says Sarah.

"Where too? Sarah Evans C/O Big Brown Furry Dragon also known as a Brown Fergus Finbrownstin Fergalarius named Bertha located on some mysterious island possibly in Fergaria Finbarton postal code unknown?" says Ashleigh. "Oh yes mister postman please deliver a letter rain or shine to a friend whose address is unfortunately not known."

"Ever heard of e-mail," says Sarah. "Bertha had Internet. Dial up mind you but it still worked."

"My Internet connection hasn't been so great lately," Ashleigh explains. "I still thought we were good friends that our admiration and caring for each other would stand the test of time..."

"Gosh," says Sarah. "You haven't talked to me in a year. It's been so long nor did you try to contact me. I may has well have been dead to you."

Oh the irony.

"Sorry?" says Ashleigh. "First you say it has been six months? But now it's a year? What are you playing at?"

"Oh I'm sorry," says Sarah. "I'm just testing the boundaries of fiction," Sarah replies matter-of-factly.

"What?" says Ashleigh dumbfounded.

"It's just something Wild Will mentioned too me when I was investigating the dog rights rally," says Sarah.

"Don't tell me you're a convert to his fictionalism theory?" Ashleigh laments.

"Why not? His theories make perfect sense. I am mad at you, which is totally rejecting my characterisation," Sarah explains. "I am purposely sending a signal to the Writerverse. She knows I am aware."

But she actually isn't...

"She?"

"Of course it's a she!" says Sarah. "The universe as we know it is actually created by some timid nerd named Melissa." (Or Alyssa, Maria and many other characters she has used to insert herself directly into the stories she writes.)

"Don't tell me you believe all this nonsense?" says Ashleigh.

"Of course!" says Sarah.

Clearly the big brown furry dragon hit her on the head or something!

"I'm searching for this writer, the interpreter, the first reader, the one to bring us into this world. If I found her and proved Wild Will's theory..."

"You'd either be incredibly famous or labelled a villainous loony," Ashleigh interrupts, "just like that good for nothing Rottweiler."

"Well I believe he was the first character ever created, not just for this world," says Sarah. "He claims to have inter-story travelled."

"Yeah, yeah I know," says Ashleigh. "I read your story about it, but I didn't think you'd actually convert."

"Oh well I did!" Sarah says enthusiastically. "I am officially recognising my fictionalism."

She actually isn't.

"Good for you," says Ashleigh tentatively.

So...perhaps we should get to the part in the story where Ashleigh tells Sarah about Roland AND Barthes, the characters not the philosopher.

"So...I think I should get to the point in my chance meeting," Ashleigh starts.

"In this story," Sarah adds.

"Yes..." Ashleigh growls. "The part where I tell you our old friends from university Roland AND Barthes..."

"The characters," Sarah contributes once again, aiding to the nerds bewilderment.

"Yes," says Ashleigh. "not the philosopher...? Look Sarah could you just put aside the fictional spiel your on for a moment so I can tell you what is happening?"

"If it will ease your mind," says Sarah. "But if the writer is enfusing her holy pen of narrative correctly she'd find some other way of informing of what happened rather then first hand character witness."

"SARAH!" Ashleigh shouts.

"OH MY GOODNESS!" says Sarah. "If you want to tell me what happened and if it is meant to be told by your lips then so be it."

And so Ashleigh eases her nerdy mind and tells Sarah what happened, the tree entrapment, the dog chase, finding her in the writerly cafe, etc, etc... Because the writer is apparently too lazy to show what is happening...And ummm the authoress demands Sarah stops thinking about fictionalism. THE END! LANE CLOSED! Now back to the narrative which you dear readers have been entranced with...

"Well..."Sarah begins.

AUTHOR SAYS LANE CLOSED! Sarah means to say...

"Oh my goodness."

That's better.

"You mean they think I am dead because I'm an author and as they have figured out my pseudo name and I've been out of contact for so long?"

Duh!

"Precisely," says Ashleigh completely ignoring her supposed fictionalism like a good character should.

"So," Ashleigh suggests. "Maybe you should go outside and explain how you are in fact living and not dead to our two long lost dog friends, I'd say undead but they then may think you're a zombie or something..."

"Sure of course," says Sarah. "Despite the fact I could have sworn I've only known them and there existence for a mere two chapters and a paragraph of back story."

"STOP IT!"Ashleigh barks.

YES STOP IT or the writer will smite the Sarah Evans and ummm...shall we continue?

"Just kidding," says Sarah, purposely thinking of saving the argument for when Philis is around, to gain a rise out of the other equation of the duo.

"Since when do you joke around?" says Ashleigh.

"Since I dropped my snobby attitude from before," Sarah replies.

"But you were only misconstrued to be snobby because you possessed a superior intellect and a flare for words," Ashleigh says.

"Truly?" says Sarah. "I thought it was because I had high morals and a sense of what is right. My confidence was merely mistaken for arrogance."

"And I guess a night with Oliver Octogenarian changed all that?" Ashleigh says.

Sarah scoffs clearly disgusted because it was partially true. Officer Octogenarian clearly didn't meet her standards that night. Take that Sarah Evans!

"I would have said it's because no matter how hard I try something or someone who has an absurd sense of humour happens to destroy it!"

"And by that you mean a certain scarlet woman named Mrs. Lachlan's Mum?"

"Yes her too," says Sarah. She is of course referring to the writer of course.

"She ruined my reputation! A few lines in a story which I believe were edited to say she was incompetent and untrustworthy, etc, but because I had my byline on it the horrible woman sues me for libel."

"Edited?" says Ashleigh.

"The editor embellished a little!" says Sarah. "I mean I was tempted myself but I never did."

"And she didn't inform you of this?" Ashleigh smirks. Thinking back to many strange conversations Sarah told her about her editor.

"Not funny Ashleigh!" says Sarah. "It wasn't my idea."

"You're an idea!" Ashleigh replies.

"I know!" Sarah responds matter-of-factly.

Ashleigh narrows her eyes, sending an ominous towards Sarah.

"So you say Roland AND Barthes are outside?"

"Yes," Ashleigh remarks.

"Oh I see them," says Sarah she waves at the four dogs though the window.

"The no-dogs allowed rule is so pretentious and discriminatory don't you think?" Sarah adds after a few seconds of waving and a few seconds of seeing Roland AND Barthes dumbfounded expressions realising Ashleigh was entirely correct. ENTIRELY CORRECT! Rah! Ashleigh takes these moments to revel in her awesome I know it all correct glory. THE END! It's not really the end of the story because it would be entirely abrupt.