Day 231 – The Mythical Papuloa Shell of Istinka


The mythical Papuloa SHELL of Istinka

Day 231

Sea Shell by Amy Lowell

Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing me a song, O Please!
A song of ships, and sailor men,
And parrots, and tropical trees,
Of islands lost in the Spanish Main
Which no man ever may find again,
Of fishes and corals under the waves,
And seahorses stabled in great green caves.
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing of the things you know so well.
This has nothing to do with sea shell wind chimes, but it came to mind when I shot this.  The piece is a bit of silliness written for an extremely non-serious writing challenge I participated in a couple of years ago.

It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes. ~ Douglas Adams

The search was proving to be irksome; an almost impossible quest: The mythical Papuloa Shell of Istinka. It was rumored to have amazing powers and she coveted those powers. She needed those powers. She was willing to risk all for the ability to transmogrify, for the power of the “Banshee Yodel” and for Wonder Twin power even though she had no twin, save the one she talked to every day in her mirror. To be sure, the other powers were great – Blue Glass Eye, Afro-burn and Power Toe, but she really wanted to yodel.
She entered the cave at the foot of the limestone cliff, the sound of crashing waves almost deafening and knew she had only minutes to spare before the tide rolled in. She activated her super web finger pack and her stiletto stilt waders. Then straightening her spine, she entered the darkness. “Blast!” she thought as she remembered the forgotten flower power head lamp left lying in the dash of the topaz colored Edsel at the top of the cliff. But there was no time to waste, so she pulled out her super handy Black and Decker snake light and began to search.
Her hands moved quickly through the water and the sand, picking up and discarding ordinary zebra mollusks and hermit crabs. Then! Shazam!!! Out of nowhere, there it was on the strangely glowing rock shelf 2 feet 4 1/2 inches to her left, right at eye level. As she reached for it with trembling fingers dripping with water and the sand caked under her fingernails, she heard voices. It sounded as though they were right outside the mouth of the cave. She quickly grabbed the Papuloa Shell of Istinka and extinguished the super handy Black and Decker snake light. At this time, she realized that she was glowing with that eerie green light. Suddenly the cave exploded with the splash of big feet and clank of metal things. She whirled. She kicked. She elbowed. She pinched. It was fluid chaos at its finest. it finally dawned on her after several toe stubs and having her hair tangled around one of the metal things one time too many, that she had resources at her disposal. With a deep breath she unleashed the Banshee Yodel, “CHARGE!!!!” It echoed with terrifying clarity, bouncing off the rocky walls and causing spontaneous combustion. The screams were incredible; the carnage appalling. She reached the sunlit shore and activated Power Toe, quickly pirouetting and leaping to the top of the tall cliffs. She stood there breathing heavily, heart racing, adrenaline coursing. Her cell phone vibrated in the top pocket of her hand crocheted Kevlar smock. As she looked at the text message displayed on the screen of her Puce B245836.7 Amazon green wax phone, she sighed for the 856th time that day. “The Golden Cheeto is on the Titanic.” And she knew right then that she needed Super Elastic Neck, Crunchy Coater and Foot Caster. This time she would not forget the Flower Power head lamp…
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6 thoughts on “Day 231 – The Mythical Papuloa Shell of Istinka

  1. Okay, coolness overload here.

    The shell wind chimes look like a pretty collection of silver dollars suspended in air.

    The poem is charmingly, disarmingly singsong-y and I could just skip rope to it (if I didn’t so inconveniently tend to trip on jump-ropes).

    And Our Heroine’s quest for the Mythical Papuloa Shell of Istinka is one heck or an inspired bit of over-the-top (over the cliff?) silliness that induces SWUL (an acronym ChgoJohn forced me to coin not long ago which means “Snorts with Unladylike Laughter”–or is that my destined native-American name?). Now I am *dying* for a hand-crocheted Kevlar smock. Please? Please!!!

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