Cy, where are you taking us?  We have been spinning within your clouds for hours.  It is quite nauseating.

Cy: Who is that?  Who’s talkin’?

PF: CY!  Have you forgotten you have been carrying us away from Professor Island?

Cy: Ooooooh.  No?  Yes.  Sorry, man.  I just get used to the swirling debris I pick up, I probably thought you were just another one of these Kicky Huts.

Kicky: Hello!

PF: Well can you please release us?  I have emptied my stomach contents one billion times.  I have lost meals that in the third grade I et!

Cy: Sure sure!  Sorry about that!  Pa-TOOEY!

PF: Sweet demise, I will soon kiss your tootsies!

Current Mood: Falling!
Discoveries Made: Tears shed from terror fall at the same rate as a paunchy Professor.

Blobby, are you safe?

Blobby: My files are getting wet…

PF: Roy, have you expired?

Roy: Alive and well, PF!

PF: Oh how frabjous! Let us get our bearings here, eh?  Well, we currently float in some kind of circular river that circumscribes a great and delicious-looking castle.  The water is warm, murky, and surprisingly tasty.  The river bed is made of stones and…

?: Who goes there!

PF: Whassat?  *gasp* Remarkable!  I am looking at a creature I have not ever seen before!  It is a red thing without any mustache at all.  It is pointing a two-pronged spear at me that is like a trident – a bi-dent perhaps.  Perhaps this thing knows where my wicker basket came from.  Perhaps this thing is the Emperor of the Wicker People.

Emperor of the Wicker People: Who are you talking to?

PF: It is communicating!  OH GREAT WICKER EMPEROR, I AM NOT HERE TO HARM YOU.  I AM JUST GOING TO DISCOVER YOU.  PLEASE REMOVE YOUR FINE WICKER ROBES SO THAT I MAY DOCUMENT THEM.

Emperor of the Wicker People: Get out of the moat!

PF: I DO NOT MEAN TO ANGER YOU, OH GREAT ONE!  PLEASE DO NOT EXACT WICKER JUSTICE UPON ME!

Emperor of the Wicker People: Do not move too quickly now.  And stop yelling.

PF: Sorry, your highness.  I wish only to win your favor, Emperor of the Wicker People!

Not the Emperor of the Wicker People: I’m not the Emperor of the Wicker People.  I have no idea what that means.

PF: Oh.  Well I wish to Discover you regardless!

Not the Emperor of the Wicker People: You do not make any sense.  Come with me!

PF: Yes, of course!  Get a photo-painting of this fellow, Roy.

Not the Emperor of the Wicker People: Who?

PF: Nevermind, my good sir.  If you do not mind me asking, who are you?

Sausage Cadet: I am a Sausage Cadet, and I’m taking you to jail!

PF: Delightful!  Splendid!  DISCOVERY!

Current Mood: Caloo! Calay!
Discoveries Made: A Sausage Cadet!!!

Here we are!  In sweet sweet PRISON!  It is like, I am SO honored.

I cannot believe we have Discovered a new Creature, Blobby, a new People.  That is to say, we have made the highest degree of Discovery that there is in all of Professor Island.  SO HONORED.

The great watchers in the sky must have been very confused about what the heck I was doing these past few weeks.  I am grateful they have not abandoned me in my searchings and guided me to this great place.  PRISON.  HONORED.

The Sausage Cadet Fellow (who did not appear to be made of wicker at all – I AM FASCINATED!) said that I will be here in this cell until they figure out what to do with me.  He also said I better not try to chew through my delicious bars.  He also gave my bottom a stab with his bi-dent when I tried to tag his face with my Official Discovery Tag.  He also had a cute little hat!  Did you see his cute hat, Roy?

Boy.  Oh boy.

Current Mood: I am just TICKLED.
Discoveries Made: Prison!

I have spent the night in my little cell and I am still on Discovery Overload!

Sometimes I hear them whisper about me.  HELLO!  Hello, whispers!  Shpspshsspppshshshhs.  That is what it sounds like when they whisper about me…

Sppspspsshhs spshspshssshp Crazy shspshshpshpshs Moustache spshpshsppshspshshsthhh.

That is what it sounds like.

Current Mood: SpshspthtshspsssIamnotcrazyyet!spshspshh
Discoveries Made: The dust here is New Dust!

Okay, the buzz has worn off – I am tired of being imprisoned, albeit a delicious captivity.  I believe I have Discovered all there is to Discover in this meat pit.  I am so moody!

I must do whatever is necessary to get out at the Greater Wicker World beyond these sausage bars!

Current Mood: Blarg!
Discoveries Made: Blerg!

To pass the time, I will now begin tallying my days here in jail by making hash marks on the wall.  I have not been reading the timestamps of my Blobby Log, but I shall assume I have been imprisoned for at least 700 days thus far.  Time to start scratching 700 lines into…

Sausage Cadet: You still down here, Loopy Larry?

PF: Dear man, I have told you before, that is not my proper name!

Sausage Cadet: Whatever you say, Larry.

PF: Good sir!  I have a mind to chew through these tantalizing bars and let loose what for!

Sausage Cadet: Oh please don’t be difficult, Loopy Larry – I am having a real bad day…

PF: Is that so? Do you hear that, Blobby, an invitation for emotional bonding!  I shall manipulate this poor fellow’s feelings in order to acquire my freedom from this penal kielbasa torment!

Sausage Cadet: What’s that?

PF: Nothing, nothing, my good man.  Please, tell me of your bad day.  Open up to old Loopy Larry, I will not exploit your feelings!

Sausage Cadet: Whatever.  I’m just stressed because the Hot Dog King has been yelling at me all week.

PF: You poor thing!  Why is your King so enraged?  Were you indolent?

Sausage Cadet: He’s always mad since he lost his crown.  That crown was the only thing he ever loved…

PF: Goodness!  Well you must allow me to speak with your King!  Why, I am an Expert Discoverist!  I could Discover your King’s crown in a jiffy!  With all my Discovery skills!  That I have!  Let me out!

Sausage Cadet: I don’t know man…

?: Let him try, Sausage Cadet!  He is clearly intensely harmless.

PF: Who is that?

Sausage Cadet: Yes, ma’am!  All right, Larry, let’s go.  We’ll see if you can really discover this crown…

PF: O sweet freedom!

Current Mood: Phew!
Discoveries Made: FREEEEDOM!

Take good dictation, Blobby, we are about to have audience with the Hot Dog King himself!

Sausage Cadet: Ladies and Gentlemen, rise for the perpetually delicious, gracious and munificent, King of the Hot Dogs!

!: All hail, his bun-less glory!

PF: …bunny blurry!

Sausage Cadet: Everyone, please be seated.

Hot Dog King: I am grumpy!

Sausage Cadet: Everyone leave, his highness is grumpy today!

*shuffling sounds*

Sausage Cadet: Our sincerest apologies to the Ketchup and Mustard Ambassadors from Foodlandia.

Ketchup Emissary: That’s okay, now we can go to the festival!

Sausage Cadet: Sorry, Larry, back to jail!

PF: Goodness no!  I shall be cooked for sure!  WAIT!

Hot Dog King: Who is that noisy pastry?

PF: Your highness, I am no pastry at all!  I am Professor Frederick Fliggins and I have come to find your crown!

*audible gasp*

Hot Dog King: My crown?

PF: Yes, sire!  I am a Professor Island University Thirteenth Level Junior Discoverist!  I have been training my entire Life to Find and Discover, and I see no Reason why my Skills may not be transferred to Discover your lost crown.

Hot Dog King: What is this loopy pastry talking about?

?: Sire, we have imprisoned this foreigner without charge and I have deemed him to be useful in the search for your crown.

Hot Dog King: What’s that, Hilda?  Well, if YOU think so…  Tell me, Mr. Pastry, how do you suppose to find the most sought after possession in all the Hot Dog Kingdom?

PF: Yes…  Yes, well.  Well, I will tell you.  I will tell you, your highness.  So, in my training…  I, hummm, I, hrmmmm.  Yes.  Okay.  Where did you last leave it?

Hot Dog King: On my head!

PF: And you checked there?  Yes, of course.  Um, did you try looking under things?  Whenever I lose something, it is always in the last place that I look… Heh Heh… Oh dear…

Hot Dog King: Someone skewer this fool and cook him over the flames of Mt. Feroshi!

PF: *ulp!*

Hilda: Oscar!  Just because you are grumpy doesn’t mean you have the right to sentence every pastry you meet to be roasted over lava!

PF: Oscar?

Hot Dog King: Ugh.  Very well.  You are lucky, little pastry.  *ahem* I release this moustachioed lunatic to the care of Hilda Frankfurter, Minister of Diplomacy and Sweet Pickle Relish – so speaketh me!

!: Hail!  The King spaketh so!

PF: Hail!  Thank you, Osc… your highness!  I promise to find your crown for you!

Hot Dog King: Hilda, take your new project out of here before I have him kippered.

Hilda: Of course, your highness.

Current Mood: *phew!*
Discoveries Made: Hot Dog Mercy!

What an exciting day, Blobby!  I have moved from hated prisoner to guest of the High Hot Dog Court!  Tomorrow Ms. Hilda will be escorting me through the Hot Dog Kingdom and debriefing me on all that I need to know in order to re-Discover his highness’s most precious crown.  I am honored by the responsibility…

You know, I wonder what has happened to my Gingerfizz Kerchief Dirigible…

I also wonder if the other Professors on Professor Island hate me or think me extinguished…

If my story were better forethought, I probably would have made more friendships at home so that I may now long for them on this cool Hot Dog evening.  But I did not have any friends there.  My friends are Knowledge and a pushing forward through the fogs called Future.  Discovery.

Oh – and of course I am also friends with Blobby and Roy.  Of course…  I love you, gentlemen.  I really do.

Current Mood: Pensive.
Discoveries Made: Appreciation.

Ms. Hilda!

Hilda: Good morning, my funny little pastry!

PF: Yes.  Pastry…  What is on this morning’s crown-hunting agenda?  Are we to clue-gather and witness-grill?  Hey, I said grill!  That was an accident, but it is quite funny, as you are a Hot Dog!  Do you get my joke?

Hilda: Ohhhkay.  Calm down, buddy.  Let’s just go for a walk, all right?

PF: Yes, madame!

Hilda: So this is my beautiful Hot Dog home.

PF: Oh goodness.

Hilda: Over there is the world-famous Hanging Bratwurst Gardens…

PF: …oh my…

Hilda: …and here is the mysterious Drive-Thru Window of Destiny.

PF: *salivating sounds* So… much… Discovery…

Hilda: It’s just a tourist trap, really…  Hey, what are you doing?

PF: Tagging Discoveries!  Taking Photopaintings!  I must catalog your entire home…

Hilda: You’re putting tags on individual flower petals..?

PF: Discovery.  Discover.  *Wheeze* Famous.  Must collect ’em all.  *Huff*

Hilda: *SMACK* Get a grip, man!  Why are you labeling everything?

PF: *Ahem* Well, my dear woman, it is my sworn duty to Discover the World thoroughly.  By tagging everything in your Land, I will be able to bring our two countries together, thereby taming the Entire Known UNIVERSE.

Hilda: Fliggins, I don’t know where you got that idea.  I am not too sure what Professor Island is, but there aren’t only two lands in the world – there are hundreds.  Thousands perhaps!

PF: But… I…  I don’t have that many tags…

Hilda: No, I’m sure you don’t.  Fliggins, there is no way you can discover everything.  Even if you were able to visit all the lands in all the world, there are forever new things created from the old.  Newness is inevitable.  I mean, discoveries are endless!

PF: Hilda, you are blowing my mind right now.

Hilda: Why don’t you maybe focus on one discovery for every new land you visit, and just collect those for now.

PF: I do not know…  That goes against my Oath.

Hilda: Fliggins, rules are an important foundation, but they don’t come with a mind.  You have to supply that yourself and decide when rules should be followed, and when you should write your own.

PF: I see. NEW rules… ReDiscovering Discovery one Discovery at a time…

Hilda: Yes.  One at a time.

PF: I will try.  This is hurting my brain.

Hilda: Good, that means you have one.

PF: Perhaps we should just focus on the King’s crown then..?

Hilda: Yeah, about that…

PF: Hey!  My Dirigible!

Hilda: Your what?

Current Mood: Suprise!
Discoveries Made: Personal Philosphy.

My once mighty airship is in shambles!

As Hilda and I were taking one of the loveliest strolls I have ever strolled, there was the Dirigible,  in a pathetic heap upon the ground, the wicker weaving of the basket horribly torn, the Ginger Fizz fuel reserves broken and totally depleted by greedy rodent pillagers!  I could see them, bloated and hiccuping in the bushes, fizz-bubbles still trapped in their whiskers!  That sight has made me simultaneously upset and thirsty…

I will not be able to fly out of the Hot Dog Kingdom now, meaning I will not be able to find the enraged Hot Dog King’s crown, meaning I am to be cooked for sure!

Current Mood: Trapped.
Discoveries Made: Broken ship, broken dreams.

Fearing my imminent skewering by the King for my inability to Discover his lost crown, I have constructed a sausage rope-ladder to escape out of my bed-quarters window!  I will shimmy away from all of my problems!

Hilda: Fliggins are you here?  What are you doing?

PF: I am shimmying away from all of my problems!  Good-bye, sweet Hilda!  May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Hilda: Get back in here, you ridiculous pastry!  These sausages won’t support your girth, you’ll fall!

PF: So be it!  A fitting end for someone so irresponsible!  Ow!  You are going to tear my moustache off of my face!

Hilda: Stop… Struggling…

PF: Ow ow ow…  *huff huff huff*  You may keep those hairs you are still holding.

Hilda: No thank you.  What were you doing?

PF: Oh, Hilda!  I cannot Discover your King’s crown!  My airship is in shambles and under the guard of those meany Sausage Cadets!  And I am feeling like a sub-par Discoverist.  Why, I could not Discover the plaid on my slacks…

Hilda: Let’s leave this pity-party, okay?  I talked to the Ketchup and Mustard Ambassadors from Foodlandia: they will fix your dirigible’s basket, but it will take some time.

PF: I do not have time!  Hilda, the King!  He is going to hate me!  He is going to make the Cadets poke at my bottom again!  My bottom!

Hilda: Fliggins, the Crown doesn’t want to be found – he’s free and happy and far, far away from here.  He sends postcards sometimes – see.

PF: I see.  What does this mean?

Hilda: It means you can’t find the Crown, it means the King will always be cranky and he’ll soon forget that you even existed, to be honest.

PF: Oh.  So I do not need to escape from this place in terror?

Hilda: No.

PF: Oh.

Hilda: You still need Gingerfizz fuel, yes?  Why don’t you visit our annual Beans and Franks Festival with our neighbors in the Bean Village.  They might have some Gingerfizz.

PF: Beans?

Hilda: Yes! The Beans are our closest allies.  You could wander about the BFF while we fix your ship.  You’ll probably make all kinds of great Discoveries.

PF: Now you are talking my language!

Hilda: Get some sleep, Fliggins.  No more running away, okay?

PF: I promise.  Thank you for this bounty of kindness.  I owe you so much.

Hilda: Good night, Loopy Larry.

PF: !

Current Mood: Swoon!
Discoveries Made: Only the sweetest lady I have ever met!

Sausage Cadet: Hey, Larry!  I’ve been ordered by Madame Hilda to escort you to the Bean Village for the Beans and Franks Festival.  You ready?

PF: Nearly so.  I have just a few more items to label…

Sausage Cadet: What the…  There’s tags on everything – this is going to take forever to clean up!

PF: You better not clean this up, good sir!  Specimens are not to be disturbed until retrieved by the Professor Island Museum Curators.

Sausage Cadet: *Sigh* Whatever.  Madame Hilda wanted you to have this note as well.  She apologizes for her absence.

PF: A note!  How lovely.  I shall now read it aloud.  *Ahem*

Dear Fliggins, You’re about to embark on your first unescorted venture outside.  You will Discover so many things you may lose your grip on reality – practice your breathing exercises and stay calm.  Please try to shake  yourself of that annoying habit to put tiny labels on everything – that will only serve to irritate and enrage foreign heads of state.  I think this world away from your home will feed your Discovery addiction, but I worry that you have much to Find about yourself before you can survive in a place that might not always have your best interests in mind.  Be careful, little pastry.  I haven’t been interested in Discovery until I met you, but I am now glad to have Discovered you.  Thank you for crash-landing in my moat.

xoxo
Hilda

Mr. Cadet, I believe that Hilda is the sweetest Hot Dog I have ever met.

Sausage Cadet: She sure is!

PF: The note is even scented with her special meat-perfume.  You know, perhaps I should follow Hilda’s lead and make the Discovery of specific Peoples my most valuable Discoveries.  This is something to ponder.

Sausage Cadet: Whatever you say, buddy.  Let’s go!

PF: *Sigh*

Current Mood: Accomplished!
Discoveries Made: Structure...