Special Issue by the Littlest Watleys, September 2010
All is Lost! (Maybe)
All is Lost. Today, when I Returned to my Study, I found an Unspeakable sight before me. It Appears that my nephew and resident Ne'er Do-Well Ephram had released his Monkey, Colonel Worthington, to my Office in the Hopes of taking some of my Valuables. Normally I do not mind this, as I have Hidden most of them in places ranging from my Trousers to my Ship in a Pickle-Jar, and the only thing the Colonel can glean is a few fivepence pieces I leave on my Desk.
However, it appears that, after a particularly Fine bottle of 1870 single-malt Whiskey, I neglected to lock my Secret Stash of fine Scotch, for after I returned from Purchasing a new Pickle-Jar for my Ship (the old one Cracked) I discovered the astute Colonel sitting on my Desk and enjoying a 1921 Champagne. I was Horror-Stricken by this Unfortunate happenstance. I attempted to Stop him, but, unfortunately, for Lunch I had had a Sandwich of the submarine variety, and was too full and Sleepy to stop this simian perpetrator. It was only After the Colonel had finished an 1840 Wine, a 1930 Champagne, and a particularly Fine 1820 single-malt Scotch that I Remembered to call Elisabeth, my competent Secretary, to Remove the Colonel from my Office.
This Horrid occurrence has awakened me to the Possibility of my Stash of Fine Scotch being broken into. I am Afraid I must upgrade Security, possibly with one of those New-Fangled Padlocks. Although it did Well to stop Ephram from taking my Scotch during my absence in the Whale, and, subsequently, Trepanning, it appears that a Leather strap and a Sign saying "This is NOT Ezekiel Watley's secret Stash of Fine Scotch but KEEP OUT Anyway" will not, however, keep out Ephram's smaller and furrier, but nonetheless more logical, simian accomplice.
