Dave Ruder - Harkenbak the Four, Page 1

The following constitutes Notes from the Reconquista by the noted reconquerer, Harkenbak the Four.

While these entries are numbered, the are not presented in numeric order, but rather by the order that makes most sense for the narrative.

Please see "The Passion of the Roe" in the Musical Items section for more information on Harkenbak the Four.

Day: Prologue

A conquest. Or reconquest. Lemme tell you something great about it: I surely can't tell if this mustache is ironic or post-ironic. Will ask Medicine Lou later, he may well have an answer.
Also, thought earlier I was made of string. This proved false when Dowager's cat approached me and junked me straight away. Conclusion: am not string.

Well, looks like I should go conquer something back.

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Day #2

Woke up late today.
Frankly, I'm frightened of Mtenda Lions pouncing as I exit my domicile/tent-icle.
I've started calling it the "tent-icle". Ha. Chortle.

Anyways, we've got Jazz/Tap III at 10 this morning, and the girls are expecting me to provide the Randy Jackson. So I've got some catching up to do. This is really the soul of reconquering, the freestyle, funk-based dance routines. I've got a retinue, might as well use it, know what I mean?

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Day #X+3

Boo. My parade got rained on. In a bout of good news, however, I developed a device that fixes the problems of ending sentences with prepositions. That's what I built it for.

I encountered, in Lower Rebria, a donut so large, I had no choice but to go around it. Although I could have ordered the men to eat through it, or tunnel under it, or just pick it up. But we would've needed schematics and shovels. How anachronistic. I'm no floozie.

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Day #6.5

Assessed the validity of prime fractions. This required a pot of coffee, for which I threw a rock at a helmet, and a bird brought my piping hot Joe straight away. Was relieved at Medicine Lou's lack of forearm upon inspection, after drinking java.

Hate birds.
- Talk to whales today, they know about reconquering things. I saw it on a movie picture, anyway. Whoops.

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Day #7

Seven layer noodle cake or seven layer pasta cake?
Frank said "oops! I dropped the ball" and I slapped him. Hope that was displaying strong leadership to the men & women. That'd suck if they started to fear me and shit. Maybe I can remedy this by reconquering something?

Whales were informative yester-half-day. They showed me how to use my blow hole and search out krill. I introduced them to Shanda's sister, and I think they hit it off pretty well. We'll know soon enough if we keep reading the whales' live journals. (http://www.bloggerforhope.co.whale/)

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Day #48

Viewed a Rod Steiger movie. What a guy. I respect him for more than his work: I respect him for his good ideas. Just like Chiefly Anne. I respect not only her, but her ideas independent of her. Like her calculated bear bag knots, those are good. Really good even. And her rickshaw carpet bomber. That was a strong concept. And her automatic Confederate-era tampon generator. Good, solid idea.
But what I can respect more than a good idea is a good swinging bunt, and I sure as heck had one of those today. Today being Cinco de Maio in this country, traditional day of infield hits and low-flying planes.
Palabra.

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Day #36

Performed a commemorative strip tease for the first-born in camp today.
My pasties represented the holiness of words. My g-string stood for my good will towards the whale-people of Eastern Rebria. The unwaxed ass-hair many observed was there to signify the widening gap between my soul and my gullet. And the shaking in my hips was central because I respect myself.

Don't talk to me about the pigeon fiasco, enough people are already asking me about it.

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Day #3

Hit 'em fast.
That's it.
I feel like there's this weird tension between Cowboy Loretta and me. I can't quite put my finger on it - she always calls me slow poke, but I always call her SlowBro, and I think she prefers Polywhirl. We've stopped slapping each other five every time we spur our horses. This saddens me because I was really grooving on her convertible boombox and her peach-lemon squares. Gosh those morsels are tasty.

Found some chitlins. Thinking about reconquering my father's spilled seed. Those lil' guys could be my sisters and brothers!

Day #13

Big trouble in camp today. Some no-goodnik posted a sign that looka like this:

I, of course, tore it down and immediately yelped in pain, pain of the low abdomen. There's where I felt it.
I held up the sign and asked Chiefly Anne,
"Who did this?"
She said, "You're fat. Fuck off."
Then I ate a whole cheesecake. It was blueberry.

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