Smoke upon Troubled Waters

     Dear reader as you may recall, I ventured to the Teapot the other day, at approximately 1 of the yard-arm to meet the genocidal Dr. Nemo, on a matter urgency. Let me relate to you the events of that day.

     On entering the aforementioned establishment, I had a brief encounter with Ernest T Jones, the part-time barman. After a brief conversation mulling over the weather, and the question of whether I had encountered any new pot holes and the like -it matters not –he handed over a vermillion envelope that had been left for me.  I retreated with my murky ale to my preferred snug.

I studied the envelope with newfound curiosity; it smelt faintly of kelp…

The Very Article in Question

Breaking off the wax seal with the image an amphibian melted into it- (a Nemotoad if you like –I opened the unexpected communiqué. What was the man doing in Spain?

I hope that's not octopus ink.

Let me relate what the anticephalopodic fiend had to relate:

“Dear Erasmus, I was surprised to hear from your after our last encounter ended on such a sour note. However, I understand that you have a mystery afoot. You be pleased to hear that I have adapted the energy-transfer mechanism of my minisubmaranic apparatus to suit your needs. Unfortunately I rather tied up with the infamous Cuélebre in Cantabria. I will be back as soon as I can….”

Just as I was reaching the curious reference to the legendary Cuélebre, I felt an eerie presence, almost 32 centimeters, North-Northwest of me by the Etherington Compass. Turning sharply, I drew my eyes upon a strange looking figure. Let me describe him to you. He was almost entirely enshrouded in an enveloping black cloak. His face was obscured by a pall of grey smoke, a panama hat perched awkwardly on his head.

“To whom do I have the opportunity of speaking?”

“I come not to speak, I come to smoke,” he replied enigmatically. As he finished his sentence, he unrolled a series of complicated blueprints in front of me. To my amazement I realised that the figure, whom I shall refer to as The Smoking Man, was the curious inventor of a type of flying saucer. Some of the details were beyond me, but it seemed gain its energy from special crystals developed by the smokey one. The purpose of these crystals seemed not only to be folding space-time, but also ironing it popping it in the draw. Now the stranger chose the time to talk.

“I am here to help you investigate you gaping chasm, Sir.”

I blinked, partly from the acrid smoke. It seemed that he was the very person that I required.

So, the game is a-foot!