Panama Jack's page

They each, independently, rescued me from sinister looking fellows in top hats with monocles on separate occasions. They each thought I was Chilly-Willy though, and left me there, but that's okay with me. :P

What-what!?

I remember when I first met Dr. Leaf-Jones. It was in the sweltering, Jap-ridden summer of '42 I do believe. I was in BURma.

I was relaxing in the officer's club and I said to my aid Reggie, I said, Reggie! Who is that American chap with the striking mamasan who is obviously a spy for the Japanese? That is when the famous name of Dr. Leaf-Jones, which I had heard so often before, was finally put to a face. A fine, heroic, intelligent face that said, All your artefacts and honies iz mine. Now just how it turned out that he escaped her attentions unharmed is quite a story...Where's my pipe?

Looks like we have a lot of seamen in this thread. <elbows and winks>

They sail the ocean blue!
And their saucy ships are beauties!
They are sober men and true!
And attentive to their duties!

I heard there were some whiggish numbskulls roundhereabouts. May Jove, Britannia, and John Bull have mercy on their miserable souls...

Righto, ol' chap!

Hear, let me add another jigger of rum to yours.

Rather quiet in these parts come late afternoon, what-what? Just the sort of thing that reminds me of the time goliath tiger fish swarm on the Luabala. Did I ever tell you about the time Reggie thought it would be a good time to go skinny dipping and fishing at the same time in the Luabala? HAW HAW!

::From a bar set up in the stern of the boat::

I say, Reggie, what a sad lot, what-what?

Ship ahoy! I believe I'll mix up rounds of dark-and-stormies for everyone! What do you say?

*Rubs oils on the ladies in the thread.*

I'll take my imperialism sunny-side up, please!

Set down to catch his breath, breaks open a bottle of Black Seal rum and pours himself two fingers and drinks it before he is on his way.

Jerry!

26. Tumbling with Jill! HAW HAW!

***

PANAGRAM

***

Adventure ever complicating STOP
Itinerary keeps changing STOP
Will probably return when least expected STOP
Hope building project is proceeding STOP
Sending several barrels rum & crates ginger beer with this cable STOP
Use well STOP
Yours, PJ FULL STOP

~TRANSATLANTIC CABLE~

11. The story that never ends.

Which reminds me, did I ever tell you about the time that I was charged with recovering General Gordon's body? The entire Sudan was aflame with messianic expectations after the fall of Khartoum. I remember it like it was yesterday. The winds whipped out of the desert like...

TELEGRAM

Dear Inquirer[stop]
Am away but my recommendation is clear[stop]
Become a Jack[stop]
Yours Col. J. J. Jackson GBE aka "Panama Jack"[stop]

Jolly Good! Louge wants smiting, as his posts are at least coherent.

The rouged jester has yet to construct a meaningful post!

Continues thrashing with Cane of Coherence, greater. Draws hardback first edition of Dune from his coat pocket and hurls it at Louge's head.

You will not foul my ears with that republican, regicidal cacophony!

It's rather beside the point for you to try to fight back now, Louge.

YOU ARE DEFEATED.

Catches Crimson Jester eying his posterior.

Why, thank you, CJ. I'm flattered, but the cane doesn't swing that way, what-what!

Seeing that the whiggish foes have some kind of immunity to verbal devastation (a benefit of Illiteracy?), PJ brandishes his cane and delivers a thrashing to them both.

I do believe our little ranine friend is here as a spectator only...or, to use a word that Sharoth and Louge might understand, a "fan".

It's painful how penalized the slow-witted are in intellectual initiative...

If "Nick" (ahem) be his true name...

Well...I'm holding my readied action, Mr. Louge, craven insulter of Her Britannic Majesty...

Insult the queen just once more, base villain, and thou shalt get thy comeuppance!

I'll start it off:

1. Callous Jack is our Fearless Leader
2. One must be a Jack or a Jill, or some variation thereof, to be admitted to the club.
3. Most Jacks are golems...or robots...bit of a debate there...
4. Most Jacks share the same avatar.
5. There's a good deal of boozing and
6. Wanton destruction.

With a scuttle and an acrobatic swing, the small green fellow acrobatically gets himself down from the roof.

And to conclude answering your questions, sir, he addresses Panama Jack, I am a member of an offshoot of the dragon family, and as a sort of handyman, I guess you could call me a 'Jack of All Trades'. The Witch Hunter General is my boss, and during the Witch-Hunting season we drown and burn fake-witches, and execute the ones who don't drown or burn.
Anyway, during the current economic downturn the politicians have suddenly decided that dotty folk who put hexes on inconvenient journalists for them are suddenly a valuable resource, and making some excuse about 'falling numbers' and 'need to restock' have banned witch-hunts for now. So cash is a bit short right now, and so I'm picking up odd jobs for cash, such as the handywork here. I've just cleaned out your gutters, repointed your roof and cleaned your chimneys - one of them had the remains of a big fat bloke who seems to have had a beard and to have been dressed in red robes with white trim in by the way.

I say...things are tough all over. I'm glad we had some work to toss your way until things get better...you seem a conscientious little chap. I'll have Reggie bring you out a drink on your break. You look like a mojito man.

Just toss the corpse over there...the Ape'll get it.

On his way back into the clubhouse after a diverting game of squash, PJ catches a glimpse of the industrious little flunkie, stops and reads his name-patch.

I say, little chap, what are you? Imp? Pseudo-dragon? Quasit?

And who is WHG? How did you come to work here?

I say, KC, you've got a body again but still haven't regained your cleaver, eh?

How unlucky for us...well, at least you stopped by.
Come back any time, my dear.

His hand to his heart, he bows.

I see that you are a lady of refinement...I'm one of the few partakers that I know!

Takes of the proffered snuff with one hand as he draws out his handkerchief with the other.

I say, Righto, we have a guest of the gentle persuasion.

Even better...welcome, my dear.

Pours two dark & stormies.

Gents?

Pours DJ a mojito.

Pompous self-regard can worship itself without you just as well, eh, DJ? <guffaw, guffaw>

Deathskunk Jack?

Sure, why not.

Panama Jack wrote:

Couldn't have said it better m'self, Righto.

Jacks do unto others, not unto Jacks...unless "do" is a good thing, what-what?

"Does" another round of drinks for his fellow Jacks.

"Hey can I barrow that +5 ironwood cricket? I have the feeling I need smack something by next week."

Hands over bat.

Couldn't have said it better m'self, Righto.
Jacks do unto others, not unto Jacks...unless "do" is a good thing, what-what?

"Does" another round of drinks for his fellow Jacks.

"If I were to become a Jack, would I have to stop attacking people and releasing my fury in their faces?"

Define "people"...

Actually, ol bean, he's larger, sometimes.

But the other points are well taken. Jack vs Non-Jack. Invited vs Uninvited. Sleeps outside vs tries to sleep in our house.

KC, why don't you just convert Cousin Joe into JoeJack finally and play around in the clubhouse with him?

Ah...too bad about your golf club, there, Demo.

I say, I've got a +5 ironwood cricket bat I hardly use anymore, if you like?

I say, Demo, if you shoot from the promontory on the back lawn, you should have a decent shot at driving him to the further frog pond.

Although, on this point, the marble is right...

I say, Demo ol boy, wouldn't worry about that if I were you. Jack-of-all-trades comes through here every once in a while and fixes everything, I do believe.

By the way, a little Infernal comes in handy with Jackin from time-to-time. He's a Greater Fiendish Dire Monstrous Gorilla, or something along those lines...

Steady there, ol boy.

Ape, this is Demo Jack. Demo Jack, this is Ape.

The Ape reaches forth to shake Demo's hand, and his hand encases him, bobs him easily up and down, while the Ape hoots in what seems a friendly manner, something like apish laughter.

Whoa, there, Jackin...the hairy boy doesn't know his own strength, what-what!

Panama Jack steps over to the corner where hangs a large brass gong which he strikes.

G-O-N-G!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reggie (my aide) and I usually use more civilized methods, as you have guessed...saber, rifle...of course, in a pinch we've been known to resort to dynamite.

When something needs smashing, I usually call in my ape. Have you met?

Welcome, Demo. There's usually a surplus of folks who need destroying, but just right now, things are pretty quiet...it seems you have the bad luck of catching us at a down time.

Have a drink and hang around...there's sure to be a poodle or two run through the house.

Mojito or Dark & Stormy?

And who might that be, my large draconic inquirer?

I say, Righto, if Dr. Jones' father can do it, then so can we! He's a manly man, by Jove!

Great Scott! Hammer is a natural! Just look at him.

As long as she remains old, vain, sour, and man-hungry, sure, make her a ninja! Room for creative license, what-what!

Too bad there aren't more Jills. If Jacks play the ladies, we need Jills to play the men's parts.