The Hamptons

Notes from the Intergalactic Travelling Companion::3

deborah moulton :: Hamptons Intergalactica

Alas, I fear that due to escalating unrest, I can no longer recommend the planet Morn as an ideal winter getaway. Like so many other parts of the galaxy, it has fallen prey to social unrest and economic turmoil, primarily due, of course, to the growing Muvin influence.

I do not wish to alarm you. But the Muvins are here in the Hamptons.

Just yesterday, as I walked alone on the empty winter beach, I saw figures approaching from the distance. At first, I thought they were small children. As they drew closer, I thought perhaps they were small children dressed up as burlap sacks. However, as the sacks grew closer and I saw the hint of a reptilian tail dragging on the sand, I began to have suspicions. Then, when the sacks drew swords, I realized I was in the presence of four Muvins. It was very difficult to understand what they were saying – due in part to their guttural speech patterns, but also due to the fact that their mouths were covered with brown burlap. Finally, in frustration, they tore off their sacks, brandished their swords wildly and yelled in a most blood thirsty manner.

Determined to appear calm, I offered to buy them lunch contingent upon them putting away their swords and climbing back into their sacks. Their leader, a fearsome Muvin named General Grunch agreed as he did not wish to cause unnecessary terror to innocent bystanders. Ergo, I took the group to Barristers where they dug into their hamburgers with rather a rather appalling display of table manners. (While the far gentler Gorbuls are vegetarians and true mushroom aficionados, Muvins enjoy meat – the rarer the better.) As my guests were still disguised in their burlap garden bags, I pretended to all that I was hosting a children’s costume party – which proved quite effective until a waitress happened to trip over one of their tails.

After lunch, the three soldiers, still in disguise of course, opted to explore the village and check out Job’s Lane – leaving General Grunch and I alone with our coffee and pie. Keeping his tail well concealed and with his four feet barely dangling over the edge of the chair, the General explained that the reason that Morn was in such a dire state financially was that the Gorbuls were hording all the mushrooms. He vowed revenge against my dear friend, the ambassador, who he claimed is an extremely corrupt government official. He said that the Gorbuls have all but ruined the planet Morn and that the Muvins are planning to over-throw the current government in a gloriously gory violent battle in which all Gorbuls are going to die terrible horrible painful deaths.

Understandably, I was deeply dismayed at the general’s words. Of course I fear for my Gorbul friends’ lives. However, I am also fearful that the Muvins may decide that they prefer life in the Hamptons to the conditions on Morn.

So, I must ask the question, are we ready for the Muvins?

Deborah Moulton – Official Scribe of Morn

In Deborah Moulton’s own words: When my children were very small, I would spin them stories about faraway places filled with imaginary characters. When my children were slightly bigger, I wrote several books. When my children got expensive (as children do), I stopped writing and entered the job market. After a long twenty years of teaching and desk jobs, I have returned to writing and have just put back into print my first book, The First Battle of Morn ( sci-fi) which was published in 1988 and am half way through the sequel. lifeguard stand

March 16th, 2009 Posted by | imaginary tales | no comments

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